Chapter 11

When I wake up the next morning, Lisa is gone again.

I don't really remember what happened after I collapsed in Lisa's office yesterday. The rest of the day is fuzzy in my memory. It's like my brain had switched off, unable to process the violence I had witnessed. I think I vaguely recall Lisa picking me up off the floor and bringing me to the shower. She must've washed me and bandaged my feet because they're wrapped in gauze this morning and hurting a lot less when I walk.

I'm not sure if she had sex with me last night. If she did, then she must've been unusually gentle because I don't have any soreness this morning. I do remember sleeping with her in my bed, with her body curved around mine.

In some ways, what happened simplifies things. When there's no hope, when there's no choice, everything becomes remarkably clear. The fact of the matter is that Lisa holds all the cards. I'm her for as long as she wishes to keep me. There's no escape for me, no way out.

And once I accept that fact, my life becomes easier. Before I know it, I have been on the island for nine days.

Sorn tells me so over breakfast this morning.

I've grown to tolerate her presence. I have no choice—without Lisa there, she's my only source of human interaction. She feeds me, clothes me, and cleans after me. She's almost like my nanny, except she's young and sometimes bitchy. I don't think she's forgiven me fully for trying to bash her head in. It hurt her pride or something.

I try not to bug her too much. I leave the house during the day, spending most of my time on the beach or exploring the woods. I come back to the house for meals and to pick up a new book to read. Sorn told me Lisa will bring me more books when I'm done with the hundred or so that are currently in my room.

I should be depressed. I know that. I should be bitter and raging all the time, hating Lisa and the island. And sometimes I do. But it takes so much energy, constantly being a victim. When I'm lying in the hot sun, absorbed in a book, I don't hate anything. I just let myself get carried away by some author's imagination.

I try not to think about Hanbin. The guilt is almost unbearable. Rationally, I know Lisa is the one who did this, but I can't help feeling responsible. If I had never gone out with Hanbin, this would've never happened to him. If I hadn't approached him during that party, he wouldn't have been savagely beaten.

I still don't know what Lisa is or how she's able to have such a long reach. She's as much of a mystery to me today as she's ever been.

Maybe she's in the Mafia. That would explain the thugs she has in her employ. Of course, she could simply be a wealthy eccentric with sociopathic tendencies. I truly don't know.

Sometimes I cry myself to sleep at night. I miss my family, my friends. I miss going out and dancing at a club. I miss human contact. I'm not a loner by nature. Back home, I was always in touch with people—Facebook, Twitter, just hanging out with friends at the mall. I like to read, but it's not enough for me. I need more.

It gets so bad that I try talking to Sorn about it.

"I'm bored," I tell her over dinner. It's fish again. I learned that Sorn catches it herself near the cove on the other side of the island. This time, it's with mango salsa. It's a good thing I'm a seafood fan because I get a lot of it here.

"You are?" She seems amused. "Why? Don't you have enough books to read?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, I still have seventy or so left. But there's nothing else to do . . ."

"Want to help me fish tomorrow?" she asks, giving me a mocking look. She knows she's not my favorite person, and she fully expects me to turn her down immediately. However, she doesn't realize the extent to which I need human interaction.

"Okay," I say, obviously surprising her. I've never been fishing, and I can't imagine it's a particularly fun activity, especially if Sorn is going to be snarky the entire time. Still, I'd do just about anything to break the routine at this point.

"Okay, then," she says. "The best time to catch these fuckers is right around dawn. Think you're up for it?"

"Sure," I say. I normally hate waking up early, but I get so much sleep here that I'm sure it won't be too bad. I probably sleep close to ten hours at night and also catch an occasional nap in the afternoon sun. It's kind of ridiculous, really. My body seems to think I'm on vacation at some relaxing retreat. There are apparently perks to not having internet or other distractions; I don't think I've felt so well-rested in my entire life.

"Then you better go to sleep soon because I'll come by your room early," she warns.

I nod, finishing up my dinner. Then I head upstairs to my room and cry myself to sleep again.

"When is Lisa coming back?" I ask, watching Sorn as she carefully arranges the bait at the end of the hook. What she's doing looks disgusting, and I'm glad she's not making me help her.

"I don't know," Sorn says. "She'll come back when she's done taking care of business."

"What kind of business?" I've asked this before, but I'm hoping one of these days Sorn will answer me.

She sighs. "Jennie, stop prying."

"What's the big deal if I know?" I give her a frustrated look. "It's not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon. I just want to know what she is, that's all. Don't you think it's normal to be curious in my situation?"

She sighs again and casts the lure into the ocean with a smooth, practiced motion. "Of course it is. But Lisa will tell you everything herself if she wants you to know."

I take a deep breath. I'm obviously not going to get anywhere with that line of questioning. "You're really loyal to her, huh?"

"Yes," Sorn says simply, sitting down beside me. "I am."

Because she saved her life. I'm curious about that too, but I know she's touchy on that subject. So instead I ask, "How long have you known her?"

"About ten years," she says.

"Since she was nineteen?"

"Yes, exactly."

"How did you two meet?"

Her jaw hardens. "That's none of your business."

Uh-huh. I sense I'm again approaching the difficult subject. I decide to proceed anyway. "Was that when she saved your life? Is that how you met her?"

She gives me a narrow-eyed look. "Jennie, what did I tell you about prying?"

"Okay, fine . . ." Her non-answer is answer enough for me. I move on to another topic of interest. "So why did Lisa bring me here? To this island, I mean? She's not even here herself."

"She'll come back soon enough." She gives me an ironic look. "Why, do you miss her?"

"No, of course not!" I give her an offended glare.

She raises her eyebrows. "Really? Not even a little bit?"

"Why would I miss that monster?" I hiss at her, uncontrollable anger suddenly boiling up from the pit of my stomach. "After what she did to me? To Hanbin?"

She laughs softly. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much . . ."

I jump to my feet, unable to bear the mockery in her voice any longer. In this moment, I hate her so much I would've gladly stabbed her with a knife if I had it handy. I've never had much of a temper, but something about Sorn brings out the worst in me.

Thankfully, I regain control over myself before I storm off and make a complete fool of myself. Taking a deep breath, I pretend that I intended to get up all along. Walking to the water, I test the temperature with my toe and then walk back toward Sorn, sitting down again.

"Really warm water on this side of the island," I say calmly, as though I'm not still burning with anger inside.

"Yeah, the fish seem to like it here," she replies in the same even tone. "I always catch some nice ones in this area."

I nod and look out over the water. The sound of the waves is soothing, helping me control whatever it was that came over me. I don't fully understand why I reacted so strongly to her teasing. Surely I should've just given her a contemptuous look and coldly dismissed her ridiculous suggestion. Instead I'd risen to her bait.

Could there be some truth to her words? Is that why they irritated me so much? Am I actually missing Lisa?

The idea is so sickening that I want to throw up.

I try to think about it rationally for a bit, to sort through the confusing jumble of feelings in my chest.

Okay, yes, a small part of me does resent the fact that she left me here on this island, with only Sorn for company. For someone who supposedly wanted me enough to steal me, Lisa is certainly not being very attentive.

Not that I want her attentions. I want her to stay as far away from me as possible. But at the same time, I am oddly insulted that she's staying away. It's like I'm not desirable enough for her to want to be here.

As soon as I analyze it all logically, I see the absurdity of my contradictory emotions. The whole thing is so silly, I have to mentally kick myself.

I'm not going to be one of those girls who falls in love with their kidnapper. I refuse to be. I know being here on this island is screwing with my head, and I'm determined not to let it.

Perhaps I can't escape from Lisa, but I can keep her from getting under my skin.

Two days later, Lisa returns.

I learn about it when she wakes me up from my nap on the beach.

At first, I think I'm having a dream. In my dream, I'm warm and safe in my bed. Gentle hands start stroking my body, soothing me, caressing me. I arch toward them, loving their touch on my skin, reveling in the pleasure they're giving me.

And then I feel hot lips on my face, my neck, my collarbone. I moan softly, and the hands become more demanding, pulling at the straps of my bikini top, tugging the bikini bottoms off my legs . . .

The realization of what's happening filters through to my half-conscious brain, and I wake up with a sudden gasp, adrenaline rushing through my veins.

Lisa is crouched over me, looking down at me with that darkly angelic smile of her. I'm already naked, lying on top of the large beach towel that Sorn gave me this morning. She's naked too—and fully aroused.

I stare up at her, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and dread. "You're back," I say, stating the obvious.

"I am," she murmurs, leaning down and kissing my neck again. Before I can gather my scattered thoughts, she's already lying on top of me, her knee parting my thighs and her erection prodding at my tender opening.

I squeeze my eyes shut as she begins to push inside me. I'm wet, but I still feel uncomfortably stretched as she slides in all the way. She pauses for a second, letting me adjust, and then she begins to move, slowly at first and then with increasing pace.

Her thrusts press me into the towel, and I can feel the sand shifting under my back. I clutch at her hard shoulders, needing something to hold on to as the familiar tension starts to gather low in my belly. The head of her cock brushes against that sensitive spot somewhere inside me, and I gasp, arching to take her deeper, needing more of that intense sensation, wanting her to bring me over the edge.

"Did you miss me?" she breathes into my ear, slowing down just enough to prevent me from reaching my peak.

I'm coherent enough to shake my head.

"Liar," she whispers, and her thrusts become harder, more punishing. She's ruthlessly driving me higher and higher until I'm screaming, my nails raking down her back in frustration as the elusive release hovers just beyond my reach.

And then I'm finally there, my body flying apart as a powerful orgasm sweeps through me, leaving me weak and panting in its wake.

With a suddenness that startles me, she pulls out and flips me over, onto my stomach.

I cry out, frightened, but she merely pushes inside me again and resumes fucking me from behind, her body heavy on top of mine. I am surrounded by her; my face is pressed into the towel and I can hardly breathe. All I can feel is her: the back-and-forth movement of her thick cock inside my body, the heat emanating from her skin. In this position, she goes deep, even deeper than usual, and I can't help the pained gasps that escape my throat as the head of her cock bumps against my cervix with each thrust of her hips. Yet the discomfort doesn't seem to prevent the pressure growing inside me again, and I climax again, my inner muscles clenching helplessly around her shaft.

She groans harshly, and then I can feel her coming too, her cock pulsing and jerking within me, her pelvis grinding into my buttocks. It enhances my own orgasm, draws out my pleasure. It's like we're linked together, because my contractions don't stop until she are fully over.

Afterwards, she rolls over onto her back, releasing me, and I draw in a shaky breath. With limbs that feel weak and heavy, I get up on all fours and find my bikini, then pull it on while she watches me, a lazy smile on her beautiful lips. She doesn't seem to be in a rush to get dressed herself, but I can't stand to be naked around her. It makes me feel too vulnerable.

The irony of that doesn't escape me. Of course I'm vulnerable. I'm as vulnerable as a woman can be: completely at the mercy of a ruthless madwoman. A couple of tiny patches of material aren't going to protect me from her.

Nothing will, if she decides to really hurt me.

I decide not to think about that. Instead I ask, "Where were you?"

Lisa's smile widens. "You did miss me after all."

I give her a sardonic look, trying to ignore the fact that she's naked and sprawled out only a couple of feet away from me. "Yeah, I missed you."

She laughs, not the least bit put off by my snarky attitude. "I knew you would," she says. Then she gets up and pulls on a pair of swimming trunks that were lying on the sand next to us. Turning toward me, she offers me her hand. "A swim?"

I stare at her. Is she serious? She expects me to go for a swim with her like we're friends or something?

"No, thanks," I say, taking a step back.

She frowns a little. "Why not, Jennie? You can't swim?"

"Of course I can swim," I say indignantly. "I just don't want to swim with you."

She raises her eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Um . . . maybe because I hate you?" I don't know why I'm being so brave today, but it seems like the time apart made me less afraid of her. Or maybe it's because she appears to be in a light, playful mood, and is thus just a bit less scary.

She smiles again. "You don't know what hatred is, my pet. You might not like my actions, but you don't hate me. You can't. It's not in your nature."

"What do you know about my nature?" For some reason, I find her words offensive. How dare she say that I can't hate my kidnapper? Who does she think she is, telling me what I can and cannot feel?

She looks at me, her lips still curved in that smile. "I know you've had what they call a normal upbringing, Jennie," she says softly. "I know that you were raised in a loving family, that you had good friends, decent boyfriends. How could you possibly know what real hatred is?"

I stare at her. "And you know? You know what real hatred is?"

Her expression hardens. "Unfortunately, yes," she says, and I can hear the truth in her voice.

A sick feeling floods my stomach. "Am I the one you hate?" I whisper. "Is that why you're doing this to me?"

To my huge relief, she looks surprised. "Hate you? No, of course I don't hate you, my pet."

"Then why?" I ask again, determined to get some answers. "Why did you kidnap me and bring me here?"

She looks at me, her eyes impossibly gree against her skin. "Because I wanted you, Jennie. I already told you that. And because I'm not a very nice person. But you already figured that out, didn't you?"

I swallow and look down at the sand. She's not even the least bit ashamed of her actions. Lisa knows what she's doing is wrong, and she simply doesn't care.

"Are you a psychopath?" I don't know what prompts me to ask this. I don't want to make her angry, but I can't help wanting to understand. Holding my breath, I look up at her again.

Thankfully, she doesn't seem offended by the question. Instead, she looks thoughtful as she sits down on the towel next to me. "Perhaps," she says after a couple of seconds. "One doctor thought I might be a borderline sociopath. I don't check all the boxes, so there's no definitive diagnosis."

"You saw a doctor?" I don't know why I'm so shocked. Maybe because she doesn't seem like the type to go to a shrink.

She grins at me. "Yeah, for a bit."

"Why?"

She shrugs. "Because I thought it might help."

"Help you be less of a psychopath?"

"No, Jennie." She gives me an ironic look. "If I were a true psychopath, nothing could help that."

"So then what?" I know I'm prying into some very personal matters, but I feel like she owes me some answers. Besides, if you can't get personal with a woman who just fucked you on the beach, then when can you?

"You're a curious little kitten, aren't you?" she says softly, putting her hand on my thigh. "Are you sure you really want to know, my pet?"

I nod, trying to ignore the fact that her fingers are only inches away from my bikini line. Her touch is both arousing and disturbing, playing havoc with my equilibrium.

"I went to a therapist after I killed the men who murdered my family," she says quietly, looking at me. "I thought it might help me come to terms with it."

I stare at her blankly. "Come to terms with the fact that you killed them?"

"No," she says. "With the fact that I wanted to kill more."

My stomach turns over, and my skin feels like it's crawling where Lisa is touching me. She has just admitted to something so horrible that I don't even know how to react.

As if from a distance, I hear my own voice asking, "So did it help you come to terms with it?" I sound calm, like we're discussing nothing more tragic than the weather.

She laughs. "No, my pet, it didn't. Doctors are useless."

"You've killed more?" The numbness encasing me is fading, and I can feel myself beginning to shake.

"I have," she says, a dark smile playing on her lips. "Now aren't you glad you asked?"

My blood turns to ice. I know I should stop talking now, but I can't. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No, Jennie." She sounds exasperated for a moment. "I've already told you that."

I lick my dry lips. "Right. You're just going to hurt me whenever you feel like it."

She doesn't deny it. Instead she gets up again and looks at me. "I'm going for a swim. You can join me if you like."

"No, thanks," I say dully. "I don't feel like swimming right now."

"Suit yourself," she says, and then walks away, striding into the water.

Still in a state of shock, I watch her tall, broad-shouldered frame as she goes deeper into the ocean, her dark hair shining in the sun.

The devil does indeed wear a beautiful mask.