“Tonight I will finish it all.”When I woke, I didn’t even open my eyes before I swore with more clarity than ever. I had only one chance. The moment any gap appeared, I had to end them.Yesterday afternoon, I’d seen their fracture as clear as daylight in Jérôme and the others. Now, the thoroughness of predicting and calculating, the patience of waiting for the perfect moment—those had turned into needless indulgence.I would trust instinct, not forecasts; act, not compute; make the moment, not wait for it. Last night, Simon’s overconfidence had opened the door. I had to seize that chance—tonight, if possible.I opened my eyes and saw Simon beside me. The injection had let me oversleep. I stared at him wordlessly, and he carried me to the bathroom and washed me. Then I passed into the hands of Hugh and George.They had put a dog collar on me—the very kind beasts wear—and clipped a leash to it, tethering me to the living-room table. Ironically, my hands and feet were free; I could undo it anytime. But I wouldn’t. They believed I’d fallen completely to animal status, and I’d uphold their delusion.Such humiliation no longer hurt. I knelt like a good, obedient dog and looked up at the two boys. Hugh stroked my head like one would pet a creature, scratching under my chin. I crouched calmly beneath his touch; he smiled in satisfaction and turned away. George merely glanced at me before leaving with Hugh. The three—Hugh, George, and Simon—all left for breakfast.I waited a little after the door closed. Anxiety and tension snarled my insides; my stomach twisted and sweat gathered on my palms. Ten minutes felt endless. They did not return by then.I yanked at the collar in panic. My fumbling took several tries, but I finally freed myself and stood. My legs shook. I dashed to Simon’s bookshelf: fourth shelf, fourth shelf. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe.With trembling hands, I pulled one book from the fourth shelf—nothing. I grabbed the next and the next. Behind the third, I found it: the damned, white box!I tore it open, only to be overwhelmed by despair and disappointment. No time to waste in self-pity. Biting my lip, I counted my options. Only one syringe remained—the damned thing! But the powdered drug they’d spiked my food with lay in three separate little bags. One bag per boy. There wasn’t enough—and no way to feed it to them now.Clenching my jaw, I shoved the box aside and hastily rifled Simon’s trash. I found last night’s used syringe and its silicone cap. I filled the empty syringe with water, recapped it, and swapped it with the real one. I emptied the powder onto a torn page, then stuffed sugar cubes into the now-empty bags. I returned the box to the fourth shelf and neatly reshelved the books.Where to hide the fakes? I paced until I glanced at Simon’s trash again. Of course he’d never suspect his own bin. I folded the page with the powder and the dummy syringe together, tucked them to the very back.My palms slick with sweat, I dashed back to the living room. I clipped the collar on myself, then collapsed flat on the floor, limbs splayed. Deep breaths only cooled me a little; tension held my body rigid. Fifteen minutes had passed since they’d left. They wouldn’t return from breakfast yet…Then the door opened.My sweat still fresh, gooseflesh prickled my skin. In stepped not the boys from Room 401, but Room 402—thank God.Jérôme entered in neat loungewear rather than uniform. He saw me sprawled on the floor, tethered by the dog collar, and arched one eyebrow.He stood some distance from me—he hadn’t noticed the sweat. I huddled, looking up at him as humbly as I could manage—he seemed displeased by my submissive, animal posture. I knew that if I grovelled, he’d be further disgusted.My guess proved accurate. The mortified look I forced onto my face immediately earned him a look of utter contempt.“J-Jérôme… w-what’s this for?” I stammered, letting my words trail off. But he strode forward before I could lie straight. Damn it! I shrank further, pressing my forehead to my knees to wipe the sweat.Before I could lift my head, a rough hand yanked the leash, hoisting me upright by the throat. I gasped as he hauled me off the floor. Kneeling, I looked up at him—his grip on the leash, his green eyes cold.“Raymond,” he said, voice gentle, belying his brutal pull on the leash.My throat too choked to answer. Fearing I’d never be allowed to stand, I clutched the leash with both hands and whimpered. Finally he released me.I collapsed back to the floor, gasping. This rough treatment would assuage any doubt in his mind—even about the sweat. He knelt before me and slipped two fingers under the collar, lifting it lightly. I raised my head, drawing breath back to my lungs. His eyes were only inches from mine.That face I would kill tonight. In this moment, his emerald eyes seethed with despair, rage, and contempt. But after tonight, those eyes would rot in Hell. Oh, Jérôme—you couldn’t know how I’d yearned to slay you, how fiercely my obsession and vengeance burned. You’d only realize it with your dying breath. Tonight. Tonight I would kill you all.“Raymond, I still don’t understand…” He spoke softly. “Even after we left you in the bog, even after Simon betrayed you, even after you saw those photos, even when Hugh and I first… you never broke. And now a handful of boys have turned on you, and you’re undone? How does that make sense?”“Ugh… sob… I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Jérôme…” I began to beg through tears. He did not become angry. Instead, he wiped my cheeks.“It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.”He continued kindly. “Instead of apologies, tell me the truth. Really tell me—what do you want? What do you want, Raymond? Last night you said you wanted to run away. Do you?”He was like a tempting snake. I could not answer, staring at him until I felt dazed, then whispered,“I… don’t know… Jérôme… what should I do? Sob…”His patience endured.“If you want anything—anything at all—do it now. How are you feeling, Raymond? What do you want? You want to whip me, don’t you? You wanted to do that before. Should I let you?”You mad bastard—did you think those words would sway me now?“I… I… Jérôme, I…” I could only stare into his expectant green eyes.“I want… sex… with you….”I spoke as he leaned close. His eyes—once bright—flickered with sinking disgust.“Sex… it’s good, isn’t it? Right? Um, last night… I did it with Simon, too… Simon put his cock in me… Jérôme, I want to do it with you… yes…”As I had when I crept onto his knee last night, I kissed him. I felt his body stiffen. My heart shattered at the thought of what that must mean to him. I traced his lips with my tongue. He kept his mouth firmly shut. I persisted until at last I felt him pull away.In that instant, the three boys from 401 burst in. George saw me clinging to Jérôme first. I clung to him theatrically, sneaking glances at the newcomers. Hugh and Simon followed. Hugh smirked at us.“Well, have you given up, Jérôme?” he asked cheerfully.It had been another test. Jérôme released his hold on me and straightened. He shrugged at the others.“Seems he’s learned his lesson, this little mutt. Good work, George.”“Happy to help.” George strode across the living room to me. Jérôme stepped aside. George patted my head—his face betraying a vicious delight. Then he presented a plate.Only then did I notice: dog food. I knelt by the plate and looked up at him.“George…” I whispered. He slapped my cheek fiercely, splitting my lip.“A mutt who talks back?” he sneered, yanking the leash to force my snout toward the plate. “Eat.”“I’ll get used to it,” Hugh said as he approached and grabbed a stool, settling in like at a show. His tone was playful.“They say it tastes foul at first, but once you start, it’s delicious.”I had no choice. I lay flat, face toward the plate, and picked up a crunchy pellet with my lips. It smelled rancid and was impossibly hard. I couldn’t taste anything—only the burning flush of humiliation.I sniffled and lifted my head. Jérôme stood a few paces back with folded arms, his expression as indifferent as Simon’s. The snake-like temptation had vanished—only contempt remained. I shifted my gaze to George. He called out to Simon without breaking eye contact with me.“Bring some milk.”Simon fetched milk from the fridge and poured it over the kibble, making it all the more {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} revolting—a whitish sludge floating on top, the odor pungent. Hugh beamed at me, and the other three surrounded the plate. The four of them watched as I, in my collar and leash, licked the kibble-milk mixture from the floor. I had no choice. I lapped it up.My lips dripping, I raised my head. George watched with a subtle, satisfied curl to his mouth—and in his beautiful eyes I saw a feral, savage craving. He glanced at Jérôme. I followed his gaze to see Jérôme watching us with a blank expression. Then George looked back at me.“What are you waiting for? Finish it.”I recessed my face again and began to lap the milk, crunching the pellets. After a moment, I heard footsteps—Jérôme strode out of the room. George let out a soft laugh.Meanwhile, I was consumed by questions: why were Jérôme and George adversaries? What part did Hugh play in their dynamic? What twisted lives had these four lived, and why had I been chosen as their victim? So many mysteries I would never solve.It took me half an hour to manage that breakfast.“Raymond, you won’t be leaving this room over break.”When I’d finally finished, Hugh—still watching from his stool—commented.“You’re supposed to have returned to America for vacation. No one—no one—knows you’re still here, except that psychopath mother who imprisoned you for years.”I could not speak, so I simply looked at him. No surprise there.“But you won’t be bored. There’s lots to do. We need to teach you table manners, potty training… come here.”He beckoned softly. I crept on all fours to sit at his feet. He slipped a finger into my mouth.“The headmaster says you don’t know how to use your mouth properly. You’ll learn here, won’t you? So next time you can treat him right.”I nodded like the obedient mutt he thought me, listening to his filthy words. Hugh traced his finger around my mouth, then withdrew it to wipe on my shoulder. He stared at me intently, scanning my body, making me uneasy.“These clothes too…” he murmured, lost in thought.He trailed off as I crouched before him, collared and leashed, in a living room that had become my prison—and their arena.

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