Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             What could occupy a psycho’s mind, anyway?

                             “What are you thinking about?” I blurt before I can stop my mouth.

                             “A suitable way to punish you.” His gaze never leaves mine.

                             I swallow the lump in my throat. “A-Are you going to torture me?”

                             He nods, slow and deliberate, a smirk curving his lips.

                             Oh, God. I can’t take pain.

                             I open my mouth to argue when the only source of light in the room goes black. The whole place submits to punishing darkness. My heart slumps to my feet.

                             Don’t panic, Mae. Breathe in. Breathe out.

                             On instinct, my hands reach out until my fingertips brush against the material of my kidnapper’s shirt. I clutch it tight, edging closer.

                             “What’s going on?” My whisper haunts my own ears.

                             No answer.

                             No matter how stupid it is, both of my hands encircle his thick arm. I wish it’s Dad. No safety whatsoever comes from touching this man. But I get to focus on something other than the figures emerging from the black veil surrounding us.

                             A few moments later, yellowish light casts all over the room. I release a long sigh. I’ve never liked anything more than the dusty light-bulb.

                             “You’re afraid of the dark.”

                             My head strays to my kidnapper. I drop his arm and clear my throat.

                             His eyes glint. The same mysterious you’re-in-trouble sparkle he gave me yesterday. His lips curve into a devilish smirk, the clotted blood on his forehead accentuating his monstrosity. “Interesting.”

                             Why do I feel like I screwed up? Even worse than failing to run?

                             The last thing I see is him placing his hand in his trousers’ pocket before the room plunges into darkness.

                             I blink twice. No, it isn’t my imagination. My eyes are well and truly open. The damn place is black all over again.

                             “Come on!” I shout, voice shaky as my arms reach out for him.

                             Some of my tension dissipates when my fingers connect with the soft material of his shirt. I cling to his arm as if it was a life line. In all honesty, it is.

                             I hate myself for selecting him as my anchor— for the second time in a row. I don’t have a choice, though. It’s either him or the ghosts waiting to swallow me.

                             One monster is better than a horde of them.

                             “Let’s see how far you will fall, kitten.”

                             “Huh?” I tilt my head, arguing with my vision to capture his features or a shape of anything.