Chapter Twenty-Nine

He’s closer now. I can feel his breath on my face. It’s not Jake, though. The smell is too stale, too sickly sweet. Like cheap white wine or vinegar. It’s him. He’s back. I want to cry. I pretend to be asleep, but I know I can’t fool him for long.

“Charlotte, bird,” he croons, stroking my hair with an unsteady hand. “It’s time to play another game with Daddy…”