“I will not,” he answers matter-of-factly.
When I look up, the hunger in his eyes is fully on display. Does he get hard at the idea of destroying people, or is that just a sadistic lust? I guess I’m about to find out.
“It almost looks like a contract.”
He looks at me like he’s bored with pretending to be human. “It is.”
I reread the line that would scare any sane person.Bleeding, begging, crying, or screaming are not reasons to stop.
“Do you know what kind of person agrees to this?”
Should I be pleased he thinks so highly of me, that I would still go through with our game even after reading this? Or does he not even care? How many times has he donethisin the past? Actually, no. I don’t want to know how many cunts have had access tomyProfessor.
“I do.”
God, can he give me anything besides a two-word answer?
“I want to add something,” I say, surprised by my own words.
“Of course.”
“If genuine feelings slip through,” I answer while keeping my voice steady, “you exploit them. I need this to be as visceral and effective as possible.”
His mouth twitches. “You will feel a lot of things, just not what you expect.”
My nails scratch lightly against the surface as I slide the paper back toward him.
“Add this too, then. If I ask you to stop, you’ll say no—even if it kills me.”
Nodding again.
No argument. He just writes my note down like he’s adding a clause to a suicide note. And just like that, I’m signing what could easily be my final will.
Why the hell am I even signing this piece of paper?Because you don’t want to upset the Professor.Right.
We sit in silence for what feels like ages. Meanwhile, I’m trying to find the reason behind his rules. Every clause is about my actions—my crying, my begging, my leaving. What on earth is his game?
“This isn’t about doing or not doing for you,” I finally realize. “You just want to see how far I’m willing to go.”
He doesn’t deny it, nor does he say another word. I must have been on the right track, but it’s too soon to try to understand his reasoning.
After a few more minutes, I finally break the silence. “So do you agree?”
“I already did the moment I sent you the message.”
He tears the list in two and hands me my half.
“Keep it if you want,” he says.
“I’m going to frame it.” My answer couldn’t sound more sarcastic.
“You have no idea what you got yourself into, Victoria. Youwillregret it.”
And with that, he stands without waiting for an answer and leaves, the door shutting behind him.
I stare into the distance, still seated, still high from the conversation.
“How exciting.”