Free Uncovering You 5: Confessions by Scarlett Edwards

blink of an eye. What I find next alarms me more.
    Not all is right in the festivities. I look at the exits leading away from the lobby and discover each one manned by a stationary guard. None is uniformed. But I can tell—from their standoffish demeanor, from the way their eyes glaze over the crowd, from the distracted way they interact with those nearby—that that is who they are.
    Other things stand out, too. Small, subtle things, but they are enough to make the hairs on the back of my arms stand on end.
    For example. The windows. The latches are outfitted with big, solid locks. Without a key, there’s no way anybody would be able to open them from inside. They are not barred the way they might be in a prison, but the locks undoubtedly serve the same purpose.
    What kind of place needs to have a lock-and-key mechanism on the windows from the inside ?
    I also see, cleverly hidden behind the various decorations on the walls, poster boards with thick lines of text. I can’t make all the words out, but the font and spacing reminds me of the instruction boards found in pools: No Running Allowed, No Diving in The Shallow End, that sort of thing.
    Last of all is the fact that our arrival has generated absolutely no notice whatsoever. None of the people so much as glanced our way when we walked through the doors. And, based on our clothes alone, we should definitely be worthy of attention.
    “Here,” Stonehart says, turning me to the side and starting toward one of those manned exits. “Come this way, Lilly.”
    We stay to the outside of the throng of people. Not only do none of them look our way, but I notice two or three consciously lower their eyes when we come close.
    The strangeness of it all definitely has me on edge.
    Stonehart makes brief eye contact with the man I’d pegged as a security guard, and we walk past him with no comment or interaction. The hallway that we come upon is eerily abandoned.
    As we get farther and farther away from the lobby, a haunting silence starts to replace the previous din. Stonehart doesn’t speak. Soon, the only thing I can hear is the sound of my heels striking the linoleum floor.
    We turn a corner to a second empty hall. This one, however, has doors lining the sides. It reminds me of the hallways found in an apartment or hotel. There’s a hint of staleness to the air. I shiver.
    “What is this place?” I ask softly.
    Stonehart’s eyes flash at me. He does not answer, but that single look is enough for me to know that something is terribly, terribly wrong.
    All of a sudden, the collar feels like it’s attached to a countdown timer that will go off whether I abide by Jeremy’s rules or not. Whether I stay within my boundaries or not.
    “Jeremy?” I try, desperate to hear a single word out of him that might quell the panic building inside me. “Where are we?”
    “In a place I’ve waited a long time to show you,” he says. His voice is neither warm nor cold. But his eyes… his eyes terrify me.
    They have the same glimmer of madness I saw when I met him at the restaurant for dinner so many months ago. The glimmer that hints at his cruelty, at his sadism, at a trap being laid. The glimmer that tells me he is in absolute control, and about to unleash some unknown horror my way.
    “Right here, Lilly-flower,” he says, stopping outside a door. My breaths are coming in quick succession. Sweat trickles down my back. And Stonehart’s arm around my waist serves as the sturdiest shackle in the world. “We have finally arrived.”
    Stonehart steps forward, releasing me. He brings his wrist near the handle. A whirring sound fills the air, and the lock clicks open.
    The last thing I see before Stonehart pushes open the door are the initials P.H. engraved on a tiny golden plaque right where the eyehole should be.

Chapter Eight

    On the other side is a small room. Stonehart guides me in with a bit of pressure on my back.
    It’s occupied. There is a man inside, sitting on the bed,