Three days. Three days of listening to her mom's worried sighs and her brother's pathetic, unanswered texts. I knew she was locked in her room, a little mouse trembling in its walls. I'd given her time to let the memory curdle, to let the fear become a part of her DNA. But the silence was getting boring. A toy is no fun if it's left in the box. I was leaning against my locker when I saw him. Darian, looking like a kicked puppy, staring at his phone. I ambled over. "Hey, man. You look like shit." He sighed, shoving the phone in his pocket. "It's Charlize. She's... not good. Won't come out of her room. My mom's about to lose it. She's forcing her to go to school today. Said she's tired of her 'mopping'." I had to physically stop the smile from spreading across my face. Forcing her to come out. Making her walk back into the den. It was perfect. "Whoa, that's rough," I said, injecting just the right amount of fake sympathy into my voice. "Maybe it'll be good for her? Get her mind off whatever's bugging her." "Yeah, maybe," he said, unconvinced. "I just hope she's okay." I knew she wouldn't be. I spotted her in the hallway before first period. She was a ghost in a baggy hoodie, her head down, her shoulders hunched, trying to become one with the lockers. She was doing a shit job of it. I let her see me. I wanted to watch the moment of impact. Our eyes met across the sea of students. I didn't smile. I just held her gaze, letting my expression do the talking. I saw the recognition dawn in her eyes, the immediate, gut wrenching terror. She flinched like I'd slapped her and practically dove into the nearest classroom. I chuckled to myself. Oh, this was going to be fun. I let her stew all day. I knew her schedule. Volleyball practice after school. I spent my last period planning. The locker room had been fun, but public... public was a different kind of power. The final bell rang. I didn't rush. I took my time, strolling out to the parking lot and getting in my van. I didn't leave. I just sat there, waiting. I knew the gym's side entrance. I knew the path she'd take. About an hour later, I saw her. She stumbled out of the gym doors, alone, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. She looked exhausted, defeated. Practice had probably been a special kind of hell, all that running and jumping, a constant physical reminder of what I'd done to her. I waited until she was about fifty feet from the main lot, heading for the street where Darian usually picked her up. Then I started my engine. I didn't drive fast. I just cruised slowly, pulling up alongside her and stopping. The passenger window was down. "Get in," I said. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. It wasn't a request. She jumped, spinning around, her eyes wide with a fresh wave of panic. "Dex? What... what are you doing here?" "I said get in," I repeated, my eyes hard. "Don't make me get out of this car." She looked around the empty parking lot, a desperate, hunted look on her face. There was no one there. No escape. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She walked to the van, her movements stiff and robotic, and opened the door. She slid into the passenger seat, her gym bag clutched in her lap like a shield. She smelled of sweat and cheap soap. I pulled away from the curb without another word, driving out of the school parking lot and onto the main road. She sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead, her knuckles white where she gripped the strap of her bag. "Please," she whispered, her voice raw. "Just take me home. Darian's waiting." "Darian's not your problem right now," I said, my eyes fixed on the road. "I am." I drove for a few minutes, not toward her house, but toward the edge of town, toward the old, abandoned industrial park. She noticed. "This... this isn't the way home," she said, her voice trembling. "I know," I said. I turned down a dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust behind us. I drove until I was hidden behind a derelict warehouse, cutting the engine. The sudden silence was heavy, absolute. "Wh-why are we here?" she stammered, looking around at the desolate landscape. I turned in my seat to face her. "You've been a bad girl, Charlize." Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What? I... I went to school. I went to practice." "You hid from me today," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "In the hall. You ran away from me." "I... I was scared," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't care if you're scared," I snarled, reaching over and grabbing a handful of her hoodie. "You don't run from me. You belong to me."