Page 8 of Creatures Like Us

Fuck, he’s creepy. There’s something off about him. I can’t put my finger on what.

“Well,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’d better be going, then. Thanks for everything.”

“Sure,” Noah says, something stiff in his voice. Stiffer than usual. “But you should eat some more first. Let me make you a sandwich.”

I don’t really want a sandwich, but I’m also too tired to protest, so I just shrug and put the mug down.

Noah returns with his sandwich as promised, and I take a few bites of it, trying to look anywhere but at him yet failing, my eyes dragging to him like he’s a magnet. He’s so focused on me, sounrelenting in the way his gaze always finds mine. It’s not?…?likethat. At least, I don’t think so.

I know how people look when they like me, girls as well as guys. Noah doesn’t have that particular glint in his eyes; he just seems fascinated with me, as if I’m a stray animal he found on the streets. It’s probably fine, even though he’s weird. I’ll just eat this sandwich, regain my strength, and leave?…

I tilt my head back in a deep yawn. Fuck, I’m so tired. Maybe I can just lie down and sleep a little more, and then I’ll go?…

“It’s okay,” Noah says. “Go back to sleep.”

Will you watch over me?I want to ask, but I’m too tired to do more than mouth the words as I sink into the blankets by the fireplace, belly full and mind a haze. I’m warm, at least. That’s something.

The next time I wake up, I’m somewhere else.

Not by the fire.

I’m lying on a small bed, and the only window is a mere sliver, way up by the ceiling.

What the hell?…?Where’s Noah?

When I lift my arm, something rattles by my side.

No way?…

Eyes going wide, I stare down at my arm.

The fucker! He’s looped a chain around my wrist and fastened it with a set of padlocks. Heavy and rusty, the chain leads to a hook on the wall beside the bed.

What the fuck, what the fuck? This can’t be happening!

“Oh, good. You’re awake again.” Noah appears by the doorway at the foot of the stairs. A basement, then. It has to be.

“Wh-What are you doing? Let me go!” I crawl further up the bed, rattling the chain.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to panic when you woke up.”

“This is supposed to make menotpanic?”

I can’t believe this guy. What is this? Some sort of BDSM dungeon? Aside from the handcuff, there’s no paraphernalia I can see, but any second now, he’ll bust out a whip or something.

Fuck, am I going to die?

Sweat beads on my forehead. I feel dizzy, and not in a good way. It’s funny—the thought of killing myself has crossed my mind more times than I can count, but faced with the prospect of dying by someone else’s hand, the pang of resistance is staggering.I don’t want to die. Please…

“Calm down,” Noah says. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Well, excuse me, but that’s pretty fucking hard to believe,” I snarl, voice choked with the onset of tears. My brother, Ethan, always used to say I make things harder for myself by being too impulsive and not knowing when to shut up, but I’m sure he’d freak out too in my position. Who wouldn’t?

Tears of fury spring to my eyes, and I plaster myself to the wall as Noah approaches and sits on a chair in front of the bed. At least I’m dressed again. This would be even creepier if I were still naked.

“Did you drug me?” I ask, voice shaking with anger and fear.

Noah gives a one-shouldered shrug. “You needed sleep.”