The Risk: Mindf*ck Series

She starts laughing harder this time, and I listen, soaking it in. I don’t know why it feels like I’ve accomplished something by making her laugh. Then again, something tells me she probably doesn’t do it too often.

The second I read her, she went from cold to haunted in a blink, and those haunted green eyes have been seared into my memory.

“I was a sixteen-year-old little girl the last time you saw me,” I say with a dark smile. “I’m all grown up now. Want to play?”

T

Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a persistent one. Albert Einstein said that. My father always quoted Einstein as a way of explaining life when we struggled to understand it. I remember him quoting me that when our lives fell apart.

“Call me,” Logan says, grinning before pulling away from the curb.

“You’re not a paid profiler, not FBI, and not affiliated with any military unit,” he says, confusing me. “Your outfit is bohemian chic, meaning you’re less worried about your outward appearance and more concerned with comfort. You sit alone by choice, and dismiss any attention sent your way. At first glance, you’re too feminist for your own good. At second glance, you’re someone who is hard to get close to because trust isn’t something you share too often. It keeps you from being hurt by people, but it also keeps you from having anyone in your life. At night, when you close your eyes and allow yourself to be vulnerable…that’s the only time you dare to wonder what it’d be like to be with someone.”

“You’re profiling me, for one, which would likely put you to be somewhere in that field, given the ride and attire. Your friend has an expensive suit that he wears to impress, but yours is less flashy. Your posture around him and good-natured ribbing towards him leads me to believe you’re equals, despite the financial difference. So I’m assuming he comes from money, and you’ve earned your own way. The SUV isn’t a standardized version. The blacked out windows are too dark to be legally tinted, but I know the FBI are given certain leniencies due to security risks. So am I right?”

I can handle the Boogeyman. Even a monster has nightmares. I’ll be his.”

Dinner? Perfect. Lobster? Loved it. Wine? Amazing. Logan? Too good for me

His voice is almost hoarse a few hours later when he finally pisses on himself, losing his bladder. It’s step one of humiliation. It’s step one of stripping their dignity. They always piss and shit themselves.

A smile curves my lips.

He curses as the first tear falls from his eye. He’s trussed up and strung out, unable to wipe it away. I want all his tears. I want all his misery and terror.

I want him degraded to the point he has nothing but indignation and humiliation left. Then I want his screams.