Page 82 of Terror Tuesday

It would besolike my life if she barged in, saw me like this, and put me on blast. Olivia Marie Cardell, on the front page—tied up, gagged, soaked.

Sin Sunday, here I come.

My father would lose his mind. Northview would call it a scandal. And all I’d be thinking about is how I want to vanish.

With Vanq.

He makes my wounds disappear. Or maybe…he gives me the strength to wield them like weapons. In submitting to him, I don’t feel small.

I feeldangerous.

And maybe,finally, I’ll use my blade the way it was meant to be.

Except, when I burn, I won’t put myself out. I’ll go all the way, razing this fucking thing to the ground.

“I’m here! I’m coming! Hold on, Olivia! I’m here!” Sora’s annoying, high-pitched, worried wails make my angry tears dry up.

Now I have to calmherdown while still strapped to my bed.

As she throws open the door, her face goes from panic to stone. “Um.”

“Can you please shut the door behind you and help undo this belt?”

She freezes like she’s never seen a naked body, or she’s realizing it’sme. Her president. Tied to a bed,stripped barewith sex hair and gossiping to ghosts like a girl whose mind has gone.

Her mouth opens once, closes. Then again. Like a fish trying to breathe air in a world it was never meant for.

“Sora,” I sigh, dragging the syllables like a parent sick of repeating themselves. “The belt?”

“Oh, sorry. Yes!” She blinks rapidly, then rushes forward with the urgency of someone whoreallydoesn’t want to see more than necessary. Her eyes stay locked on the headboard, like it might explode if she looks down.

“I’m not going to bite,” I mutter as she fumbles with the leather. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Her fingers stall at the buckle. “Was this…consensual?” she whispers.

That makes me laugh. A sharp bark of something halfway between a sob and a broken bottle smashing on tile.

“Yep. Believe it or not, some of us tie ourselves to beds for fun. Sometimes we even getuntiedafterward.”

She flinches at the tone but doesn’t argue. When the belt finally slips free, I pull my arms down slowly, groaning as blood rushes back. I rotate my wrists, eyeing the deep red lines wrapped around them like bracelets from Hell.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” I say, softer. “You’re the only one I trust not to lose your shit or tell my dad.”

“I wouldn’t unless you told me to,” she murmurs, backing up like I might sprout claws. “But— Olivia…what the fuck?”

That pulls another laugh from me. This one’s quieter. Sadder. More human.

“Maybe I’m grieving or healing. I think I’m unraveling in designer sheets.”

Sora stares at the ceiling. “Do you need me to stay?”

“No,” I say, eyes already drifting toward the closet. “I need you to go before I get the urge to cry again and say something sentimental likethank you.”

Relief flickers across her face as she nods and makes for the door.

“Sora?”

She pauses, one hand on the knob, but doesn’t turn back around.