I folded my arms. “I don’t believe you.”
I’ve never been in a secret society. None of my associates have either. The only RFA-based secret society I know of is the Medusa Society, and that’s for girls, he replied.
“You’re lying,” I said.
He wrote another message, still chuckling softly. Urban legends aren’t real, Laney.
“Some of them are,” I said indignantly, cheeks turning hot.
You sound like a complete lunatic, he replied. Next you’ll be telling me to check the back of my car for serial killers.
I swallowed hard. “So you’re really not from the secret society?”
No. I told you, it doesn’t exist.
My shoulders slumped, and I leaned back against the wall, feeling stupid. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t part of some secret cabal of psychotic murderers. It was an urban legend after all.
Bet you feel pretty stupid now,came the next message.
I let out a short huff. “Well, what was I supposed to think after I was chased by four masked men through the same forest from all the creepy stories before being kidnapped and thrown in a cell?” I asked, cheeks flaming even hotter.
Fair enough, he said.
I sat up straight again. “If you aren’t from a secret society of crazy serial killers, then what do you want with me?” I asked.
Before he could respond, sudden clarity hit me like a bolt of lightning, and my brows shot up. “Wait… you’ve hidden yourself from me this whole time, and you only communicate with the tablet. That means you’re worried I’ll recognize your face and voice… which means you’re someone I know,” I said, heart pounding. “And if you’re worried about me finding out who you are, that means you’re actually going to let me go at some point, but you’re worried I’ll turn you in.”
Took you long enough to realize, he replied.
“Well, excuse me for not thinking straight when I’ve been kidnapped, drugged, starved and tortured for two days,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes again.
He cocked his head to one side. Back to the attitude, I see, he wrote.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “Sorry,” I muttered, hoping he wouldn’t send one of the other guys to punish someone I knew for my sudden outburst. “I just don’t understand. If you aren’t going to murder me like I thought before… then what do you want from me?”
He held up his index and middle finger to signify two things. Then he wrote another message to me. 1) I want to hurt you.
I looked down at my scraped-up legs and raw knees. “Well, you’ve already done that. So what’s the second thing?”
I haven’t hurt you enough, he replied. I want you screaming, crying, and begging for your life.
I looked down at the floor. “Okay, I get it. You’re going to hurt me more,” I muttered. “But can you just tell me what else you want from me first?”
He stood and left the room again. When he returned, he had a backpack. He fished out a video camera, a notepad, and a pen. Then he wrote another message to me.
2) I want a written and recorded confession for the murder you committed.
My jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Hunter?” I cried out. “It’s been you this whole time?”
What makes you think it’s him?he asked, barely even reacting.
My nostrils flared. “Look, I might be tired and scared right now, but my brain hasn’t completely melted,” I said, leaning forward. “You confronted me in the hallway on Friday and called me a murderer, and now I’m here, being told to record a full confession of that murder. Of course it’s you.”
He typed another message. How do you know Hunter is the only one who knows what you did?
I rolled my eyes. “Drop the act. There’s only one other person who knows about it, and they’d never tell a soul.”
If Hunter found out, maybe someone else did too, he said.