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Isn’t staring me right in my stupid, naïve, pitiful face like I should have seen it before?

No.

No, this can’t be real.

This is a test, surely.

God is testing my faith in Draco.

This is… a test?

It must be.

But something in me is screaming, shaking me.

A tear slides down my cheek, hot and unwelcome. I swipe it away with the back of my wrist, leaving a damp streak that feels cold when the air catches it.

What do I do?

I don’t know what to do.

I should call someone.

The police?

My pastor?

My parents, maybe.

But what would I say? I found a mask and some zip ties?

My boyfriend has—

My thoughts stop, and I shake my head.

Boyfriend?

That’s not even right, is it?

I force the thought away and try to focus on what matters.

I need to get help, but who can help me?

No one will believe me.

I know that.

Draco? He knows that, too.

They would ask questions, and the answers wouldn’t make any sense.

Even as I go over them in my head, they don’t make any sense.

Instead, I grab everything—mask, gloves, ties—and shove them back into the coat pocket with trembling fingers. The fabric seems to resist, as if reluctant to swallow its secrets. I’m shaking so hard I almost can’t stand, but I hang the coat, adjusting it carefully so it looks undisturbed, so it looks like I was never here.

He can’t know that I know.

Why not,the voice in my head asks.Why can’t you tell him? You lay with him willingly every single night.