Page 79 of I Will Break You
P.S. If you could add lipstick kisses to one of the blank sheets, I can imagine what color will stain my cock when I come down your throat.
FORTY-TWO
AMETHYST
Agony pulses through my temples, forcing me out of a dreamless sleep. Sunlight sears through my eyelids, which feel like they’ve been glued shut. I groan, trying to push my way through a sludge of semi-consciousness.
The surface beneath my face feels familiar, even though I don’t remember Myra driving me back home. Hell, I barely recall what happened after the end of the book fair.
Xero was right about my medication. What’s the point of taking those pills when they do nothing to stop the hallucinations and instead give me blackouts?
A yawn pushes its way through my dry throat. I force my eyes open, only to flinch at the bright light. Blinking back the glare, I dredge my mind back and try to piece together the fragments.
I remember feeling like a celebrity at the book fair, as well as an impostor. Everyone was so excited about the Xero book, and I barely got the chance to pitch any new ideas.
“That’s not what’s important,” I rasp.
What the hell happened?
The man cosplaying the devil invited Myra and me to discuss an audiobook. We went to his limo and met… What was his fucking name? The hangman? Whatever.
I grope about for my phone, trying to sift through a bunch ofirrelevant memories. There was alcohol, a limo ride, and a glimpse of the casino. Beyond that, everything else is a blur.
When I can’t find my phone, I roll onto my side and squint at the nightstand. I find my earrings, the bedside lamp, and Xero’s dildo. There’s also a small bottle containing a urine-colored liquid with a label that says, DRINK ME.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” I lean down the side of the bed to see if I dropped the phone on the floor, but all I see is the charger cable, and no sign of my phone.
Did I leave it in Myra’s car?
“Ugh!” I flop back on the bed, and I catch a glimpse of metal.
When I turn toward the other side of the bed, there’s a knife poking out of a shredded pillow. Beneath it is a note.
Dread rolls around my insides like a boulder and settles in my churning stomach. Is Xero the cause of what happened last night?
Sucking in a sharp breath, I reach out and pull the paper free, careful not to loosen any more feathers. I hold the note up to the light and squint to focus on Xero’s spidery handwriting.
It says,
You are a danger to yourself and are hereby grounded.
X
P.S. Be a good girl and drink your hangover remedy.
Grounded?
I sit bolt upright. The pain receptors inside my skull screech with protest, but I ignore them, scramble off the bed, and land in an awkward crouch.
“Fuck.” Head spinning, I drag my carcass upright and inch forward, only for something to catch around my neck. It’s my leather choker, only the buckle at the back is attached to a metal leash.
“What the hell?”
I turn around, finding the chain tethering me to a hook attached to the wooden bedpost. My heart races, and I breathehard through flared nostrils. How dare Xero try to keep me tethered like a dog?
With a snarl, I unbuckle the choker, letting it and the chain fall to the floor with a thud. I glance down at my body, finding myself wearing a cream camisole and matching shorts.
My brow furrows. Is he dressing me up like a doll now?