She didn't care if he said he didn't want to get back together. He was lying to her and to himself. He still loved her; he was just afraid that if he let go of that anger, then he would have to feel the full force of the grief that the death of their son caused.
Chloe knew because she had been doing the same thing.
But no more.
They were going to sit down and talk and make things right.
They loved each other, and in the end, that was what mattered.
To do that, she needed to get out of here.
“You’re very pretty.” Pete appeared at her side, tracing his fingertips down her cheek. She shivered, and not in the good kind of way like she did when Fin’s fingers touched her body, but in the bad kind of helpless in the hands of a psychotic serial killerkind of way. “I like pretty things.”
Did he want a response of some sort?
She wasn't sure what to say to him that wasn't going to upset him. She knew he wanted complete and utter obedience. She was here to serve one purpose, and that was to stay alive while he broke her bones. So long as she did that, he was pleased with her. Anything else was just going to annoy him.
So, she said nothing.
“Ah, you're a good girl.” He nodded approvingly. “And you might be the one to actually help me do this. Your body is perfect.”
Chloe couldn’t stop the repulsed shudder as he ran his hands up and down her body, squeezing her arms and legs. At least she knew he didn't sexually assault his victims. That was one positive thing she had going for her.
At least, she thought he didn't.
His hand came to a stop on her breast, and he squeezed it, his eyes glazing over. He found her attractive. She was a little older than his other victims, a little closer in age to him.
“So soft,” he murmured under his breath.
The hand on her breast began to knead, and it took every bit of self-control she had not to lash out at him with the one hand she had free. She would have, only that would have ruined everything. He hadn’t gotten the drugs out yet. If she tipped him off now, then she’d never have a chance to escape.
He dipped his head, slowly, as though he weren’t really aware of what he was doing. His lips touched hers ever so softly, and then he seemed to snap back to reality. He straightened and pinched her cheek like one might do to a baby. “Maybe later.” He gave her what she figured he thought was a beguiling smile. “But that’s not what you're here for. I’ll roll the dice.”
The dice?
Was this what the girls meant when they were talking aboutnumbers earlier?
Pete picked up a large foam dice and tossed it up in the air. It landed a couple of feet away and rolled over a few times before coming to a stop on the other side of the room.
“You got a four,” he announced cheerfully when he’d retrieved it.
A four? Was that good or bad?
“Fours are arms,” he explained as he came back over. “But don’t worry, since you’ve been good and haven't caused me any trouble, you get the drugs. Taylor,” he paused and looked over his shoulder, “since you were a little bratty earlier, next time, you don’t.”
Chloe tried her best to regulate her breathing. She couldn’t hyperventilate; she needed to hold it together. There was no need to be afraid; she was going to stop him before he hurt her.
He pulled a small vial from the box he’d brought with him earlier. “This is the local anesthetic. I’ll inject it near your shoulder, wait a minute or two, and then with my hammer,” he paused and picked up a hammer, “I’ll break the bone. Then I’ll set up an IV with morphine, and fluids to keep you hydrated.”
Pete made it sound so simple. Like abducting someone, tying them up, and breaking their bones was the most normal thing in the world.
She kept her focus on the syringe, and not on what Pete was saying. If she focused on him, she was going to lose it, and she was only getting one chance at this.
All she had to do was wait until he was moving the syringe toward her shoulder, then grab his arm and push it toward him. She had to make sure her aim was spot on, she needed to get him in the leg like Taylor had. Then he’d lose his balance, fall, and give her enough time to get her other hand and legs free.
Once she was free, she’d find something to use to tie him up, or she’d give him more local anesthetic so he couldn’t standat all, or she’d use the hammer if she had to and knock him unconscious.
If Taylor had done it, then she could do it.