His answer is simple, and delivered in a quiet tone. “I got tired.”
My fingers fold his hand open. I allow one to tremble over it. “It looks painful,” I whisper.
“I didn’t feel it.”
“How did you dig this hole?” I ask. I’m holding his arm with my hand, so he can’t move it. I want to stroke the scar, to show him that he’s not alone, but I think he’ll definitely move if I do, so I restrain myself.
“Are you worried about sharps?” he asks with a rough-sounding laugh.
“I guess so.” I smile a little. “That’s smart, right? If I’m going to be your sister, I need to watch out for you.”
“I’m okay, Gretel.”
“My name is Leah, not Gretel.”
“Leah,” he says slowly. “That’s a nice name.”
“Thank you.”
“Well Leah, I’ve got some stuff tucked away inside my room. If you ever need anything, let me know. I might have it.”
My fingers tighten over his hand, because I’m worried he will move it now. I can’t stand to be alone. “Please don’t go! I’m…so alone in here! I’m all alone, every day! I can’t stand it!” I start to cry again.
His strong, smooth fingers intertwine with mine. His thumb strokes the top of my hand, gentle and rhythmic. It’s the nicest thing a boy has ever done for me.
“You’ll be okay,” he says. He turns my hand over, so the palm is facing up, and runs a finger over it. “You’re strong. I can read palms. You’re going to have a long life, mostly good. You won’t be here for very long.”
“I won’t?” I whisper.
“No.” His hand folds over mine and squeezes. “Leah, would you like to hear a story?”
“Yes.”
“Let me tell you about a princess renowned for her fair hands…”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Leah
Present Time
I know it’s a long shot, but on Monday morning, as my family leaves Vegas, I take a cab to The Forest and tell the man at the front desk I’m there for sub tryouts.
I’m not sure what I’ll do if I’m told that it’s too late.
More than anything, I want to see and talk to Hansel, but I’m not so sure that there’s a point. If he’s in a BDSM relationship with someone else…
I bite my lip as the man at the desk makes a call.
I’m just not sure what I would say to him. If I could talk to him without losing my shit.
Turns out, I don’t have to figure out quite yet. A man named Raymond comes and takes a look at me. I start to sweat in my black jeans and plain white t-shirt.
“What’s your name, honey?”
“Lauren,” I lie. I’m not sure why, I just can’t be Leah—not at this second.
“How old are you, Lauren?”
“Twenty-five.” That part’s the truth.
He nods, then looks down at his watch. He waves me toward the massive foyer-like area, through which my sisters and I entered the other night. “Come on with me. We’ll see if we can work you in.”
I follow him through the foyer, then the hall, and then we go through a little door marked ‘private’ and start down another hall.
We stop first in a small room with a table, where I sign an NDA. I initial where it’s highlighted and hardly look at it. I would never say a word to anyone about Hansel. Or Edgar, as he’s calling himself now.
Then I follow Raymond down the hall a little ways, and into an apartment. He hands me a black velvet bag and points me toward a bathroom.
“Change into this. The mask is important, like the NDA stated.”
I nod slowly. Mask? Maybe I should have read the NDA, because that’s kind of strange.
“Will do,” I tell him quietly.
As I change into the royal blue teddy and thigh-highs, I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake. If I should end this ruse right now and tell Raymond who I really am and see if he would see me—Edgar. I can’t imagine he’d say no.
Unless he was embarrassed.
I think he maybe would be.
The guy I knew wasn’t kind, and conscientious. True, he was Type A and restless… Drive. But he was kind. And though I know his life before I met him took a toll on him, I would never have guessed how much.
Maybe he was being made into this by the experiences of The House, but he wasn’t like this. Not yet.
My stomach hurts as I brush my hair. I leave it down because it kind of shields me. Then I remember the mask. I peek into the little bag and find something delicate and silky. It looks like it came from an old-time masquerade ball, made of silk and sequins. It’s royal blue, like my getup, and all it leaves exposed are my eyes, my mouth, and my chin. I feel ridiculous wearing it. But it’s also kind of beautiful.