I blink behind my glasses in confusion, my eyelids fluttering like dying wasps as I consider what has been asked of me.

My lips part in a frown as I meet his dangerous eyes hesitantly, my own gaze mirroring more than a little suspicion.

What in God’s name is this motherfucker up to now?

A violent shiver rips through my spine, all the muscles in my back tensing as the skin covering them breaks into another swarm of goosebumps.

Everything and nothing go through my mind all at once; jumbled, unfocused thoughts of past and present that somehow intertwine with the singular echo of Frost’s latest demand.

It’s hard to think with the way he’s looking at me, and the increasing pressure in my toes isn’t helping. Blood swirls and swishes chaotically in my head, my temples pounding as if someone is actually knocking on them. My nose tingles with a sharp buzz, possibly because all the blood in my body is two seconds away from running out of it.

I swallow hard at the demand, already hating where this is going. The pink elephant is right there, and I can still feel remnants of it down the length of my legs even though it’s mostly dried up since he chained me to this bloody contraption in this chilly room. I grit my teeth, not wanting to say the word as it’s obvious that he’s asking me to because he knows I’ll relive the embarrassment of what happened in the dining room.

When I remain silent, stalling and glaring at him for implicitly bringing up the fact that I pissed myself all over again—that he made me piss myself—without a care for how it makes me feel, he grins knowingly, matching my glare with a sinister look of his own.

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