I can't feel the cold. The metal and nails around my ankles don't matter. All that matters in this moment is the voice coming from my phone's speaker.

"So. Amanda. I don't know just what idea you had in your head, but it wasn't smart of you to pull the stunts you did last night. You got your nose broken. Tommy - that prick you used to suck off? - well, his party ended in disaster... Especially for him. And that new guy you were with? What was his name? He wanted to fuck you. Can you believe it? You. You would've made a mistake if you'd let him."

The air is filled with static. My veins aren't blood anymore, just ice water. It's a wonder I can keep a grip on my phone. For once, I'm not angry anymore. I'm terrified.

"I forgive you, though. We both made mistakes last night. We can move past that. You're cleaned up now. Your clothes are all in my wash. You're fast asleep. When you wake up, we'll have a nice, long chat about us."

Chains rattle. My gaze darts to the various contraptions on the wall. My heart pounds in frustration.

"I love you, Amanda."

The call ends. I clench my jaw and squeeze my phone so hard that I'm sure one or the other will break.

"You fucking psycho."

I'm chained to the wall. My cellphone has no signal, so I can't call for help. My clothes are gone and it's freezing. And, of course, I'm waiting for the man-child that left me in this predicament.

Now I wait.

Despite the flames roaring inside my chest, the temperature drops lower and lower. By the time I hear the door open and a set of feet tromp down the stairs, I'm reduced to a shivering, jaw-chattering mass on the floor. 

"Good morning, Amanda." Bryce has a tray of toast and eggs in one hand and holds a set of keys in the other. His boots are shined to perfection. "Nice to see you awake."

"Yeah," I reply. "It's great." I look up to him, my gaze falling short of his eyes.

"Don't be like that," he says. "You should relax! Be happy! You're away from the party. You're clean. Now you're getting breakfast... isn't this nice?"

Oh, so he's doing this routine, the one he used to use incessantly in all of our arguments. Look at all the good I've done for you! How can you be mad at me?

He crouches down next to me and sets the tray down. His eyes are chips of ice. Around us, the temperature drops further.

I don't look at him. "Why did you take my clothes off?"

"They needed a washing. You got blood all over them."

"And the writing 'whore' on my stomach?"

"A mistake." He doesn't miss a beat.

Tingles shoot down my thighs. Bryce's gaze flicks from the ink on my stomach to the gap between my legs, then back again.

"You know how my anger can get," he says, his voice a whisper. "I didn't mean it."

Suddenly, all of the pieces are falling into place. All of our fights. All of our disagreements. I look up and meet his eyes without flinching.

"I get it now," I say.

His smile is all teeth. His lips are two fleshy worms.

"See? I told you you'd understand."

It's a split-second decision - play along or risk this entire situation getting worse. As deplorable as my options are, I don't have any other choice.

"I do." I place my hand over one of his. My stomach rolls with each wave of disgust that fills me. A smile claws its way onto my lips.

"How about we have some breakfast, yeah?"

My smile widens. "You could at least unchain me first."

"In a bit." He plucks a strawberry from the tray beside him and presses it gently to my lips. I bite it without thinking and pretend that it's his fingers. "Still feisty, I see." 

He pulls his hands away and reaches for his pocket. There is the faint click of metal on metal.

Keys, I pray. Please be keys.

Chills fill my body when Bryce brings a pair of handcuffs out into the open. I blink, almost unable to believe what I am seeing.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll undo your legs in a moment. I have to be sure you're not going to strangle me first."

In this play of deceit and fury, my smile is center stage. My teeth prick my lips, but I nod anyway and let him grab my wrists, let him shackle them together. The metal bites into my skin but I can't help but comply.

It was bad enough that Bryce locked my down here. Now he's here, punishing me. I'm trembling with fury by the time he unlocks the chain around my ankles.

Bryce runs a thumb over my lips and smiles. "No need to worry," he says. "We're about to have some fun."

I could kill him right now, if I tried.

"I want my clothes," I find myself saying.

He puts a hand to my shoulder, then the other to my back, and eases me backwards. "Not yet."

Before I know it, he's on top of me, a meaty palm on either side of my head. He's still smiling, teeth gleaming like lightning. My heart hammers inside my chest but I doubt he can hear it. Air comes through my nose and stills at the back of my throat.

Then his hand is around my neck. Then I can't breathe at all.

I'm going to die here, I realize. My back arches under the heat of his fingers.

"You know I can't let you leave, right?" he asks. "It wouldn't be right. We know now that you can't keep your mouth shut... Isn't that right?"

I don't have the freedom to nod. My answer comes in the form of a spastic kick as the world turns dark around the edges.

He lets go and I suck the air in. His hand returns. 

I can't, I think. I can't, I can't...

"Obsessive creep," I spit. I jerk and send one knee into his crotch.

"Ow! Fuck!" He eases off, but I don't relent. I kick him again, then a third time. Then I plant both feet against his chest and shove.

"Stay the fuck away from me," I snarl. I roll over and try to push myself upright - a difficult task with handcuffs on. All the while, Bryce is a storm of obscenities.

"You little bitch!"

By the time I'm upright, Bryce is almost upon me again. One hand lunges for my hair and holds firm. When he pulls, fire rages under my scalp. He's screaming. I'm screaming.

"Help!" I'm begging as he tries to slam me to the ground. My lungs burn. "Let me go!"

He lifts my head and slams me down again, like I weigh absolutely nothing to him. The burning in my veins is a sharp contrast to the chill of this hell-hole.

I can't die in here. I kick at his shins until I can't feel my feet. I won't die in here.