The wall slides closed again, this time without that pseudo-earthquake that hit before.
Which means that the mechanisms controlling the walls have nothing to do with the shaking. It’s another trick used to mentally fuck with us. Keep us off balance.
In the quiet of the room, I finally turn to Noah.
His eyes are focused on a single spot ahead of him. That doesn’t last long, however. It takes him less than a second to rip his eyes away, but my heart accelerates regardless.
I recognize that analytical gleam in his eyes. Calculating.
God. All I can hope is that no one watching us on the cameras catches it as well.
Turning away from him, I try my best to pinpoint where he was looking without being obvious about it. I only dare to stare for a second or so before looking away once more. All I’m able to make out is an overturned chair by the wall.
The result of the chaos their fake tremor caused, but I see nothing in that mess that could give me hope.
Just as I’m about to walk into his arms with the pretense of hugging him so I can communicate, the crackle of that bitch returning fills the room.
“I’m assuming you’re both finally ready to behave now? Yes?”
Noah stops next to me and grabs my hand, squeezing it. No translation needed. His message is loud and clear.
I nod at him, and as one we answer, “Yes.”
There’s no response from her for a minute or so.
I turn and Noah instantly opens his arms for me, as if he can read my mind.
“Eh. No. Ivy, back away from him. At least a foot. You two aren’t allowed to touch again until I say so.”
Noah’s expression hardens. “Our best friend is being held captive and being tortured. I just want to comfort Ivy.”
“Since when is her well-being my priority? You should know better by now.”
I move away from Noah, hoping he can ignore this bitch’s spitefulness.
“You see? Apparently, Ivy is finally learning. Who would have thought?”
Neither one of us reply. For what? She’s just taking jab after jab, looking for any excuse to punish Jamie further. To make her pay for what she deems to be my fault.
Because everything is just that. She seems to hate the fact that I exist.
She always has.
Not that I’m under any illusion that Jamie won’t die regardless. I don’t know how long they plan to keep her alive, but if we don’t get out and find her, it’s only a matter of time.
“Both of you on the bed. Now.”
We stare at each other curiously. She just demanded that we don’t touch each other. Why could she possibly want us on the bed if we can’t touch?
Together, we turn and walk back toward the bed. Once we’re in front of it, we stop, wondering what our next move is going to be.
“Sit down side by side, but make sure you keep that foot of distance. Any less and I’ll have to let Clarice and Raoul know that it’s time to play again.”
I’m so sick and tired of her fucking threats.
But they aren’t empty ones, so Noah and I obey her command like good little foot soldiers. Sitting on the edge, with our feet flat on the floor, we make sure to leave what seems like the exact amount of space she wants.
As we do, I can’t help but wonder why she doesn’t want us to touch. Why she doesn’t want Noah to hug me. Although my panic for us isn’t as insane as it was before, my panic for Jamie is at an all-time high.
Did someone watching us on the cameras catch on to our secret method of communication? Is that why we aren’t allowed to touch now?
“It’s time I finally feed the both of you, although I would rather not. Dying of starvation would be a gift compared to what I have planned for you, Ivy.”
Seriously? As if I could even think of eating at a time like this.
Noah, apparently, feels the same way, because he says, “I’m not hungry at all.”
Although I know it’s useless to refuse, I nod my head in agreement.
“As I said. If it were up to me, I’d starve the both of you. But the audience is fascinated by your connection and would like to keep you alive a bit longer. So you will both eat. Either that, or . . .”
She’ll have Jamie murdered. No need to finish the sentence, it’s more than obvious.
Noah bites out, “Fine,” and I once again nod.
Almost immediately after our response, the wall in front of us begins to open again. As confirmed when it closed a few minutes earlier, there’s no rumbling. No quaking. Just a smooth slide.
That army of guards is still there, deep in the darkness, at attention with their guns ready.
Two of them begin walking toward us, and it doesn’t take long for me to make out what they’re holding: trays with food on them.
My stomach actually turns at the sight of it. I haven’t eaten in over two days, and neither has Noah, but the stress of what we’re going through serves as one hell of an appetite suppressant.
The guards approach, depositing a tray on the bed on either side of us.
This time, neither of us move to try and cover ourselves. Modesty has flown out the window at this point and all I have to go on is the faith that we will make it out alive.
So what if they see me naked? No one moves to touch me and that’s what counts.
Their lack of caution proves how unworried they are that we’ll try to jump on them and escape.
Then again, with that army of other guards in the darkness, guns at the ready, it would be a suicide attempt.
Before leaving, they remove the lids from the dishes, and I gawk at the sheer amount of food on that tray. It all looks so delicious—decadent even—but how on Earth am I supposed to eat all of this with the way I feel?
Noah curses softly under his breath, and I know he feels the same way.
“Is there a problem?”
Of course the bitch picked up on it.
Knowing it’s futile, I remain silent, but I can’t stop glancing at all that food as my stomach tightens.
“You do realize we’ve been drugged multiple times and that we’re under an insane amount of stress, right?” Noah asks.
I close my eyes, wishing he had just remained silent. There’s no point trying to reason with her. She’ll force us to do what she wants, and that’s that.
“And your point is?”
“You honestly think we’ll be able to eat all this?”
Noah doesn’t receive an answer, and that’s all it takes for my nerves to skyrocket again. Heart pounding, I look around, my fists clenched in my lap.
Out of nowhere, a small portion of the wall next to the entrance opens, displaying a huge flatscreen. It comes to life. Jamie’s in a large, cement room, tied to a chair, the two slices they carved into her still bleeding. Despite still being gagged, her glare is defiant and aimed right at the camera.
Clarice and Raoul appear in front of her.
Whimpering, I jump slightly.
They wave at us happily.
“Alright. Point taken,” I say, trying to control my wavering voice. “We’ll eat.”
“I thought so.”
Noah and I share a glance before turning back to our plates. I don’t know how long it takes us to finish the food. Hell, I barely even taste it. Each bite becomes a chore. My stomach begins cramping almost immediately after I start, and I end up having to drink water after each bite just to get it down.
The entire time, that wall remains open, those guards silent sentinels in the dark.
Eventually, we manage to finish it. The same two guards that brought the trays in return. At least, I think it’s the same two. There’s no real way to tell. Just as silent as before, they remove everything.
“Now. It’s time for your next dose.”
I blink in confusion.
Next to me, Noah shifts on the bed, and when I look at him, I see the thunderous expression on his face.
“Are you bloody daft? You’re going to drug us with MDMA again after we ate all that?”
His comment makes what she said sink in and I swallow another wave of dread.
Is this how we’re going to go? Via a physiological reaction due to all that food and that fucking drug?
“Don’t worry. This new drug is just as fun and won’t interact negatively with your digestion. Not that you deserve the explanation.” She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slow, loud—heavily into the microphone and I cringe back. Remember all the times I’ve encountered that same sound. Even distorted, it’s beyond recognizable. “At the end of the day, you will do what I say when I say it. You’re going to behave now that I have your precious little friend. Won’t you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I look toward the screen displaying Jamie. She’s still bound and gagged, glaring off into space. Raoul and Clarice are now standing eerily still behind her, as if awaiting orders. The size difference between them is insane.
I nod, because there’s nothing else I can do.
“I want you to answer out loud. Both of you.”
“We’ll behave,” Noah growls.
“Yes,” I agree, feeling slightly numb, eyes still locked on Jamie who I know can’t see us. “We’ll behave.”
“Well then. Now that that’s settled, say hello to your other old friend.”
Who the . . .
Focusing on the darkness again, I notice a huge figure approaching. One just as tall as Raoul. Before I make out any actual details on his face, I notice the curls surrounding the head.
Then, slowly, that gold, beaked mask comes into focus, followed by the aristocratic outfit and the black, rubber apron.
A thunderous growl eases up Noah’s chest and his muscles coil at the sight of him. No doubt he’s reliving the same nightmare from a few short days ago. How he watched Anne die at Jacques’ hands.
This time there is no jealousy churning inside me. We both lost someone who died loving us.
My first instinct is to turn to Noah and crawl into his lap. Without thinking, I begin easing toward him—
“What did I say about space?”
Fuck. I can do nothing but remain where I am, while the insanely huge, psychotic killer that murdered Anne approaches us in his old-fashioned heels, a hop in his step.