He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

if we’d make it out of there alive.”
    “Concentrate on him, not on what he did to you. I know he wore a hood, but you saw part of his face, his hands. Can you describe those? Did he have any tattoos, rings?”
    “His eyes were . . . black. Almost. Dark with hate.” She swallowed, cleared her throat. “He didn’t have any tattoos, birthmarks, jewelry. God, I wish I could have seen something that would help, but I didn’t. Nothing.”
    “That’s enough. You don’t need to say anything—”
    “The second day was worse,” she interrupted, determined to finish. She didn’t want to talk about it later. She wanted this over with. After tonight, she’d never talk about it with anyone else ever again. “He got . . . creative, like he was testing out a new set of knives. He sat on my back, carved me up, flipped me over and cut me some more, over and over. I have scars, big ugly scars—”
    “Stop it, Amanda.”
    “Then he did the same to Dana. When that mad look left his eyes, he’d take us outside, one at a time, and hose us off like he was washing a dog. It burned, all those open cuts. He’d take us back inside and he’d sit for hours on the floor, looking off into space while we huddled together on the bed. He hummed that eerie tune.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten that part.”
    “That’s because you didn’t want to remember and you didn’t think it was important. You’ve been through enough for one night. We can talk about this some more tomorrow,” he urged, his tone pitched low as if he were trying to soothe her.
    But it wasn’t working. Not this time.
    “He’d sit for hours, then he’d turn and that mad light would come back into his eyes, and he’d start the whole thing all over again.”
    Logan gently shook her shoulders. “You don’t have to do this. The interview is over.”
    She opened her eyes and stared into his haunted ones. “I didn’t know until later, of course, in the hospital, but he took away any hopes I had for a family.” Her voice broke and he reached for her, but she shrank back from his touch.
    “Stop talking about this,” he entreated.
    She laughed bitterly, knew she was close to losing it, but she didn’t care anymore. Once she’d started she couldn’t stop. “But you haven’t heard the best part. I have to tell you about the game. The one with the rose. The thorns.”
    “I know about the game, Amanda. It was in the reports.”
    “No, you don’t know everything about the game, Logan.”
    He grew very still. “What do you mean?”
    “You were right all along. I did hold something back. Not on purpose, not at first when everything was so jumbled in my mind. Later, I felt so guilty, I couldn’t tell anyone.”
    A sob escaped her lips and she pressed a fist to her mouth. Logan reached for her again and she slapped his hand away.
    She ignored the hurt look in his eyes and twisted her hands in her lap. “When he showed up that last day, he brought two long-stemmed red roses. He played the game with each of us. When it was my turn, he made me lie down on the floor. He sat on my stomach, held up the rose, twisted off a thorn. Do you know what he said?”
    “Yes. It’s in the report.”
    “He said, ‘He Kills Me’ . Weird how he talked about himself in third person, don’t you think?”
    Logan stared at her, his mouth pressed firmly shut, his fists clenched where they rested on top of his thighs.
    She laughed again. “Then he twisted another thorn off and dropped that one too. He said, ‘ He Kills Me Not’ .”
    Logan blanched white but didn’t try to touch her again.
    “He sang his little chant until he’d twisted off all of the thorns but one. He left that one. Don’t know why.”
    “Amanda, the interview is over. He played his sick little game and ended with “ He Kills Me” for Dana and “ He Kills Me Not” for you. You were very lucky that he gave you a chance and you were able to escape.”
    Another hysterical giggle bubbled up from her lips and she shook her head violently. “Oh Logan, you don’t get it, do you? It was the other way around. Dana was supposed to live. I was supposed to die.”

 
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
    L ogan swore beneath his breath and reached for Amanda. She tried to push his hands away, but he ignored her attempts, scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the study.
    She shouldn’t let him carry her like she was helpless, but it felt so good to be held that she