Page 41 of Horror and Chill

The cardigan. The house. The girl I used to be.

And they think this is a game.

They think this makes them powerful.

I shove off the counter and start pacing, fingers curled tight around the button. My chest aches, not with fear but with the kind of fury that cracks ribs from the inside. They want to get inside my head? Fine. I’ll let them in. But they’re not going to like what they find.

You want a little doll to play with?

You better hope she doesn’t snap her strings.

I grab my notebook off the counter and flip to a clean page. The pen in my hand feels like a weapon. I don’t even know what I’m planning yet. All I know is they went too far.

They poked the fucking bear.

And now they’re going to find out just how dark I can get when I stop trying to survive... and start getting even.

15

Agatha

I didn’t throwthe envelope away.

I didn’t hide it, either.

I put it on my desk in the filming room, right in the spot where the ring light will catch it in the corner of the frame. A little blur in the background. A smudge of cream paper that will mean nothing to most of my audience. But to them? It will be a flare in the dark.

They wanted to dig up my past. Fine, I’ll make them choke on it.

I take my time getting ready. Not the usual lingerie sets. Tonight I want something that whispers instead of shouts. I pull on a cropped dove-gray cardigan, soft and clingy, and fasten it with a single button. Notthebutton—that’s in the envelope on the desk—but something close enough that it will catch their eye. Beneath it, just black lace. Sheer in all the right places. I slip into thigh-high stockings, black with a run down the side. Imperfect and human.

The camera hums when I turn it on. The ring light paints my skin in a warm wash, erasing the faint bags under my eyes. I sink to the floor in front of the bed, leaning back against it with my knees bent and spread just enough. The cardigan slides off one shoulder as if by accident.

The chat starts filling before I even say a word.

DarkRoomDoll:Ohhh she’s givingsoft dom victimvibes tonight

GoreSlut420:Girl you look wrecked in the best way

NotACopIPromise:That cardigan is dangerous

GraveyardDaddy:I bet that button would leave a mark if she pressed it into your skin

I smile slowly, like I’ve been holding it back all day.

“Some of you think you know me,” I say, voice low. “You think you’ve seen all the versions there are. The good girl. The bad girl. The girl who screams for you.”

The chat flickers faster. I let it roll by. My eyes are on the lens. On them.

“But here’s the thing about people like me,” I continue. “We keep the best parts hidden. The ones you only get if you earn them.”

I reach up and brush the single button with my fingertips, tugging the fabric open just enough to flash a hint of lace before I let it fall closed again.

Some viewers send tips with eggplant emojis. Others type hearts. I ignore them.

“I used to wear this kind of sweater every day,” I say. “Back then it wasn’t for anyone. It was to hide what was underneath. Itwas to make sure no one could see what didn’t belong to them.” I pause, let my thumb circle the button again. “But maybe that was a mistake. Maybe hiding gave people ideas. That they could take whatever they wanted.”

GraveyardDaddy:Ok is this a roleplay or are you mad at someone??