Uncovering You: The Contract Read Free

letter, there must be something to it. I need to get it off.
    My fingers dart around the edges, seeking the clasp that opens it.
    I don’t find one.
    The collar is smooth inside and out. It feels like a single piece of plastic. I trail one finger around the rim on the inside, and, finding no discrepancies, do the same on the outside. Again, I feel nothing.
    There’s no crack, no edge, nothing to indicate how it was put around my neck.
    I jam all my fingers between my skin and the plastic and pull with all my might. The collar flexes ever-so-slightly but doesn’t give.
    “Dammit !” I cry out and try again.
    I pull with all the strength God gave me. It’s not enough. I try again, and again, and again.
    Nothing.
    I realize I’m panting at this point. The exertion has me almost hyperventilating.
    I drop my hands. It’s just a stupid, harmless little piece of plastic. Why do I want it off so much?
    Because the idea of having anything foreign touch your skin is repulsive.
    The voice is right, as always. But what can I do? The collar is bound to be part of the mind game in which I’m an unwitting participant. Reacting the way I just did is probably exactly what my captor wants. He—and I am certain it’s a “ he” now, from the wording of the letter—wants me to feel terrified.
    I will not give him the pleasure. I return to the letter and continue to read:
     
    …applaud your perspicacity! You should know, however, that it is not an ordinary collar. Contained inside is a small positioning chip and two electrodes. They become activated the moment you stray outside your designated safe zone.
    The string around your foot offers a conservative estimation of the distance you may roam past the marble column. Stay close, and you will remain untroubled. I am told that the electric shock the collar provides, while not lethal, can be quite unpleasant.
     
    Holy fuck.
    My spine goes absolutely straight and I forget to breathe. Now the collar has meaning. It feels like a live serpent wrapped around my neck.
    My eyes are wide as I look down to my foot. The piece of string is still there, but it’s not connected to the pillar.
    I’d ripped it like a moron.
    How far do I dare go? I’ll have to retie the string—unless I find a way to get the collar off my neck, first.
    Another thought occurs to me.Maybe this is a bluff? Does the collar really have an electrode in it? It’s so thin. Where would it draw power from?
    I stand up. Assuming the collar is rigged, and the pillar is the center point… but that’s just what he wants me to believe, isn’t it? The letter claims there’s a door behind the drapes. It could be my path to freedom. I would have to be an idiot to stay here without testing the boundary myself.
    I can’t trust anything the letter says. But, I can’t give in to despair, either. My only choice is to contest everything that’s thrown at me. If this is supposed to be a battle of the wills, the guy chose the wrong girl to mess with.
    I pick up the piece of string tied to the column and hold it in my fist. I square my shoulders to the long, drawn curtain. I hold my head high. My free hand itches to tug at the collar, but I keep it still. If my captor is watching me—which I’m sure he is, because I’m positive there are cameras hidden all around me—I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me hesitate.
    I take a deep breath and start toward the curtained wall. My strides are strong and purposeful. I will not waver. I will not turn back. Fear of a little shock will not keep me from testing the true limits of this prison.
    The string goes taut, and I stop.
    So far, so good .
    It’s the next few steps that will determine everything.
    I glance at the floor to mark my position. So, he expects to keep me in an invisible cage, does he? A cage of my own imagination?
    Yeah, tough luck .
    I drop the string and take one solid step forward.
    Nothing happens.
    I risk one more.
    Again, nothing.
    The corner of my lip