“Calm down,” Ford mutters, still perfectly cool and collected.
“Calm down? How the fuck are you gonna tell me to calm down when Ava’s–”
His voice cuts off as Ford shoves his shoulder to push him back, Wes whipping a murderous glare on his friend. “Why didn’t you assholes tell me about this?”
“Raf thinks you’re going soft on her, said you’d freak out if we told you,” Ford states, as if it should be obvious.
“I’m not going soft,” Wes snaps, though there’s a flash of anger and doubt in his eyes as he jerks his head back in my direction. “We have to get her down.”
“Wecan’t,” Ford says sternly, grabbing Wes by the shoulder and turning him his way. The two of them stare at each other, their silence a language all its own, but I’m too cold and humiliated to care. I just want out of this nightmare, and if there’s a chance Wes might help…
A shrill scream cuts through the lull of quiet, footsteps pounding in our direction. The next group is headed this way.
“Get out of here,” Ford grumbles, shoving Wes toward a small opening in the corner of the room– the same sly, hidden entrance that he used to gain entry. “We’ll talk later.”
Wes jerks a last look at me, anger still simmering in his stormy gray eyes. “I’ll be back,” he promises, hesitating for just long enough that a spark of hope ignites within me. Then he bolts, quickly snuffing it out.
A group of students rounds the corner, their eyes all locking on me. My cheeks flame, but then I think of Ford’s words, of Wes’s look of fury, of the cold bite of the leather straps holding me down. I pull together everything I have and try to find the strength to make it through this.
I smile at my audience, lips stretching too wide and wild as I give them my best Harley Quinn impersonation. Their eyes fly wide, their expressions suddenly unsure as they glance at one another apprehensively.
“Who wants to see her bleed?” Ford snarls as he steps forward, playing the part to perfection. “You?” He jabs the tip of his knife in a girl’s direction and they all jump back with a startled gasp.
“W-what are you gonna do to her?” another girl asks shakily.
Ford grins maniacally. “She volunteered for a little plastic surgery,” he drawls, spinning the knife in his hand with a mad glint in his eye. “She can’t wait for her procedure.”
They’re backing away, their shock and disbelief mixing with fear and fascination. I almost want to laugh at how stupid this is, at how terrible and unreal it all feels.
The group runs off, footsteps pounding down the corridor, and my chest loosens a little. Maybe Ford was right. Maybe if I pretend hard enough, that can override the shame.
He stalks over to me and leans in, his face so close to mine that my eyes cross. “Can’t stay, Ava baby. But keep it up. You’re a natural.”
The tip of his knife grazes my skin, the cold steel tracing a line across my collarbone. I hiss a breath in through my teeth as it dips in, drawing a tiny drop of blood at the point of the blade. Ford’s grin is feral as he leans in, drawing his tongue across my skin and licking it away.
I shiver, and I hate that I don’t know whether it’s from fear or arousal.
Ford’s hazel eyes gleam as he gives me one last, long look. Then he’s gone, and I’m left all alone again, the echo of incoming footsteps stealing my breath. They’re getting louder, and I know there’s no escape. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe if I stop trying to escape, it won’t feel like I’m trapped.
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the next wave. People turn the corner and gasp, while I force my head up and a smile onto my lips.
More and more of them come, gazing upon me with horror and fascination, but I try to stay above it, playing the part Ford gave me. I’m getting good at this, at faking it, at letting them mold me into their perfect little doll. I hate it, and I hate them. I don’t even realize I’m crying until the tears reach my mouth and I taste the salt. They keep coming, no matter how hard I smile, but it plays right into my role, making me look even more goddamn deranged.
‘Nobody will know this is a punishment unless you show them that it is.’
I hope he’s right.
CHAPTER 41
WES
It isn’t easy,but I make it through the Halloween party without punching someone’s face in. Everyone’s talking about how this one was even better than last year’s, and while I’d ordinarily be sipping a beer and getting my dick sucked for a job well done after pulling it off, I’m pushing through the back entry to Ava’s torture room, a ragged breath escaping my lips when I find her still in one piece.
This isn’t right. She’s our Doll, not our fucking punching bag. As fun as the games have been, this was too far, even for Raf.
The screams fade as the last thrill-seeking co-eds stumble through the exit, the soles of my boots squeaking against the floor as I stride over to Ava and reach up for the straps restraining her wrists. She’s completely drained, her body limp like the last few hours sucked every ounce of life out of her. The usual fire in her eyes has dimmed to a dull flicker, hitting me like a punch to the gut.
Ava owned her punishment, putting on a performance worthy of her position as Doll. But it came with a cost, one I’m not sure any of us can afford.
