But it was complete silence.

My pulse thundered in my ears, and sweat cooled my neck as my breath blew a strand of hair hanging in my face that I was too afraid to budge an inch to move.

I could hear him breathing.

I knew he was there.

I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, but instead of uttering the safe word, I drew in a breath, feeling his eyes on me. Every inch of my skin became sensitive and aware of my clothes suddenly chafing my skin. My lacy bra and sweater irritated the points of my breasts, and the skin of my thighs stuck to the leather pants, my belly quaking and heat settling between my legs, making me throb.

My heart filled my throat, and I was so scared, but I…I wanted to yank my sweater down and be rid of it. It was hot, and it was like every hair on my body vibrated. What the hell?

All of a sudden, a gang of chains shook and swooped, there was a loud, deep growl, and someone started charging. I opened my mouth to cry out, but he clenched my neck in his fist and shoved me into the wall, jabbing something into my stomach several times. It didn’t hurt, though. It was probably one of those prop knives that retracted, but the fear of the moment still overtook me, and I screamed as I was thrown down on the ground, landing on something soft.

I didn’t have time to guess what it was before he was on top of me, forcing my arms over my head with one hand. I gasped and opened my mouth to cry out again, but then he shot his knife up to my neck, pressing on the skin as he breathed down on me, and I stopped, aware of the skin of my nipples, burning under the itchy fabric of my sweater and his weight on me. He felt like fire on my skin.

“I’m hungry,” he whispered down on me.

I smelled a wood fire on him, and cinnamon wafted off his breath. I smelled cigarettes, too, but they weren’t like Damon’s.

Music pounded somewhere, shaking the foundation, and I guessed I was lying on a mattress, another creepy prop that I was glad I couldn’t see.

“Give me your tongue,” he growled softly. “I want to eat it.”

I shook my head slowly. Was I taunting him?

Why wasn’t I screaming?

The prop knife left my neck and dug into my side, retracting on impact. I sucked in a breath, the blood there throbbing instantly, but I was safe. I knew I was safe.

And somewhere, deep inside my head where I felt the burn of shame, but no one else could see or read me, I’d missed this. I’d missed my mind racing, my heart trying to jump out of my chest, and someone not handling me like I was a glass ball. Where, in the inch of space between him and me, I reveled in the dirt on my skin and the terror of his words.

Why wasn’t I using the safe word?

The actor’s weight eased off mine as he pulled up a little. “Are you okay?”

His voice was soft now. Normal.

“Yes,” replied.

“You know the safe word, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You don’t want to use it?”

I swallowed and shifted my leg, pulling it out from under him, but then I realized now he was between my legs. He settled in, slowly lowering his body on top of me again.

“Last chance,” he whispered the same low growl as before.

I breathed hard, the heat pooling between us, and I tipped my head back, taking his wrist and putting the knife on my neck again.

“Keep it there,” I told him.

God, I didn’t care. I liked the illusion. I liked that feeling again, and I didn’t fucking care—here and in the dark where this dude would never see me again, because I would never come back here—that I needed this. He did this to me. I hated it and hated him, but I wanted to see. Needed to see. See if I liked it or to prove to myself that he, and what he did to me, didn’t mean anything and that I didn’t want it.

“Or maybe I’m hungry for something else, Little Girl,” he threatened.

Pressing the knife into my throat, he thrusted between my legs, and we both sucked in a breath as our bodies moved in unison. My eyes rolled back, his cock already hard through his jeans as it rolled over my clit. I could feel the wet heat in my panties, and I closed my eyes, diving into the black.

He humped me over and over again, sucking air between his teeth and getting rougher as his narrow hips rolled again and again. He dug the knife’s blade under my chin, and my orgasm crested, starting to roll through me.

“Holy shit,” he said, breaking character. “God, this is fucking awesome.”

And I lost it. The orgasm drifted away, hanging on by a tether until it snapped and disappeared.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I cracked.

Jesus Christ.

Pushing him away, I stopped him and crawled out from under him.

What the hell was I doing?

Music poured into the room with screams and laughter, and I knew others had fallen through the trap door, too. I followed their voices, scurrying past them and out the door.

“Wait, come back!” the guy yelled after me. “I didn’t mean anything. Are you okay?”

No. I wasn’t okay. I’d lost my fucking mind.

“Winter!” I heard Jade call. “Oh, my God. Thank God. We’ve been looking for you everywhere. You freaked us out. Are you okay?”

“Let’s just get out of here.”

The lost orgasm still lingered, keeping me hot and my head buzzing. I still needed the release.

They led me back to the entrance, and I sucked in lungfuls of air as we stepped outside into the welcome chill.

“Whew,” Isa giggled. “We have to come back. That was fun.”

I chewed my lip, not wanting to think about it. I wasn’t about to tell them what just happened, even though I knew they’d eat it up.

I didn’t hate that I enjoyed it. I hated that it reminded me of him, and that was why I enjoyed it. I still wanted to come. He’d changed my palette.

I didn’t want to understand Damon, but sometimes, I couldn’t help thinking of all the times he watched me but never touched me—confusing me and intriguing me. And how he hadn’t really changed so much.

Thirteen years ago he was hiding from his mother in a fountain, and after what happened in his room tonight and what Isa had told me, he was still hiding. Trying to feel everything through everyone else as he stood back and watched.

But bottom lines never changed. He still took what I never would’ve given him.

They all thought he was different with me, not realizing that I was just a different kind of kink to him. Something to get him off. He fucked with my head just like he did everyone’s, and coerce is still a way to force.

He was as guilty as sin.

No one knew the real tragedy, though. It wasn’t a matter of why he was different with me, but rather, now… I was different because of him.

Winter

Seven Years Ago

“Ugh, I hate this!” I whisper-yelled, yanking out my earbuds, tossing them onto my bed, and stopping the audio-text.

No one used algebra.

No one.

I’d have to sign up for tutoring or something. I needed to keep my grades up or my father would pull me out of Thunder Bay and send me back to Montreal.

Why was I having such a hard time with this? All my other classes—no problem. I mean, math had always been hard, but the teacher… She talked fast and relied a lot on her Smartboard, projector, and all the other little gadgets that were of no use to me.

And it was pretty clear she didn’t want to change what worked for twenty other kids for the sake of one. I thought my mom could talk to her—help her get a clue—but I didn’t want my father to find out. He hated me being an inconvenience as much as I did.

I pushed my laptop, calculator, and braille keyboard away and crashed back onto the bed, taking my earbuds with me. I plugged them into my phone, found my music app, and clicked on one of my playlists. “Is Your Love Strong Enough?” started playing, and I closed my eyes, my mind immediately going to the choreography I always envisioned myself dancing to for every song I listened to. I loved dancing so much, and if my mom wasn’t asleep, I would blast some music downstairs and get to it.

When I danced and all I heard in my ears was the music, that was where I wanted to live forever.

I laid there, moving my head in a little figure eight motion to the music, and without thinking, my hands and arms started moving a little, too.

What if he was watching me right now? He could be in my room, feet away, at this very moment.

But, no. It had been a week, and I hadn’t heard anything from him. He was probably at my sister’s party, and it was probably just a prank. A one-time thing and some kind of joke he regularly pulled. I wanted to ask someone about him—tell them what happened—but I had no idea how to start that conversation, and other than the smell of the pool on him, I didn’t have much to go by. He’d whispered and hadn’t said anything personal. Like where he lived, his family, his friends, his age… He was tall, though, and his whisper was deep. He was undoubtedly older than me, if even just a couple years.

I hadn’t told my parents, either, and I knew how irresponsible it was not to, but… I knew the consequences if my family thought I was in danger.

And he hadn’t hurt me, so…

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t, but I didn’t know. If I told, he wouldn’t be able to come back.

And I wasn’t sure I didn’t want him to.

Stupid girl. The guy terrorized me over the course of a half hour, and instead of running for cover, I was drinking the Kool-Aid.

I was always stupid. I still thought I was going to be a dancer, I ignored the pain my father caused, because this house was my anchor, and I kept my intruder a little secret, because it excited me. Because I never had a secret, and it made me feel like… I didn’t know. A teenager, maybe?

The song ended and the calm whir of the next one began to play, but in the moment of silence between, I noticed the smallest, barest vibration underneath my bed. The same one I felt when the garage door opened or the landscapers brought in their equipment to work on the yard and trim the trees.

I pulled out my earbuds and propped myself up on my elbows, training my ears for what it was I felt.