Page 36 of My Girl

He spits it all into my mouth. Without thinking, I swallow it. His lips part, his tongue skimming across his bottom lip. Heat rushes between my legs.

Why does this turn me on?

He unlocks the handcuffs, and reflexively, I curl into myself again.

“Don’t hide from me,” he growls.

“Go fuck yourself.”

He grabs my face, pulling me until our eyes are locked. Maybe it’s my eyes adjusting to the darkness, but I swear I can see those black, cavernous eyes staring down at me, warning me with a single look. I’m so lost in his gaze that I’m numb to the pressure of his needled fingertips on my cheeks. My stomach rolls with nerves.

“You may have video footage against me,” he says. “But you want me, don’t you?”

Without hesitating, I nod. Idowant him. I know I do. He’s the only person I can’t figure out. And maybe that’s all he is—a challenge, a game, a puzzle—but I can’t get enough of him.

Crave stands, then goes to the corner of the room, removing a small water bottle with a broken seal. He lifts it to the dim light. The liquid is tinted yellow, like an electrolyte drink. I doubt Crave wants me to stay hydrated though.

“What is it?” I ask.

He hands the bottle to me. “Poison.”

“So this is your way of killing me?”

He snickers. I roll my eyes. I take the bottle, holding it up to the light to see the toxins.

It’s a clear, yellow-tinted liquid. Completely unthreatening.

“I’m not going to drink that,” I say.

“You wouldn’t use a knife. Not a baseball bat. Not even a gun,” he says. He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him again. “But poison? That’s more like you. Watching someone die on the inside. The agonizing waiting period of knowing that you didn’t have to lift a finger. They’ll disintegrate before your eyes, giving you their power.”

He closes his mouth zipper, then ascends the stairs, his shadow disappearing. I study the bottle, my nervous system in overdrive. An overwhelming urge burns inside of me. I want to tell him to stop. To explain what he means. To confirm my own thoughts about whether or not he’s right.

Would I poison someone?

Would I enjoy watching them die?

I imagine my mother drinking from the water bottle, watching her fall to the ground in the hotel lobby, the tailored staff members rushing to her side. Would she call out for me with her last breath? Would she suspect I had poisoned her, the daughter of a killer?

I imagine Ned drinking it too. Collapsing in the food court. Death by food poisoning.Literally.

By the time I center myself, the stairs are empty. I hastily stuff my underwear and stockings into my purse, fix my skirt, and rush to the front and back doors on the ground floor. Cacti and rock formations loom in the darkness. The stars light the sand for every nocturnal predator, but there’s hardly enough visibility for people like me.

The desert is empty again. Crave is gone, and yet, I can feel him staring back at me.

I don’t want to kill Ned or my mother. That’s not me.

But as I look into the darkness, I imagine it.

Chapter12

Rae

The next day,I stow my purse in the boutique break room, then I meet Penny in the food court. My shift doesn’t start for a while, which is a good thing. My brain is filled with fog from last night’s chaos. A bubbly, know-it-all teenager will distract me from those thoughts…maybe.

“You’re ten minutes late,” Penny says. “We barely have enough time to go over everything.”

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I was?—”