I grabbed a scrunchie and was all set to pull my hair together in back. No, Jack likes my hair like this — brushed till it shines, loose. He likes to put his arm around my shoulders, then run his hand through it. I put the scrunchie back in the drawer, shivering a little as I thought about Jack running his hand through my hair.I went to the refrigerator, got the apple juice and poured three glasses. I opened the cabinet and found the box of Triscuits I saw when Wanda and I were rearranging the kitchen. There was a block of cheddar cheese that someone must have gotten from Costco in the refrigerator, so I sliced a bunch, put it on a plate with a pile of Triscuits and got three napkins. The whole thing went on a tray that I carried out to the living room.Jack and Daddy were both on the couch, pretty much at either end. Nobody had killed anybody yet, so I took that to be a good sign.I had to watch where I was walking because my stupid dog decided I'd brought him a snack and was standing. She fought down panic, knowing that if he left her in the van, alone and blindfolded, she’d never be able to hold her position… …But he was still there, opening her door, and Marie felt weak with relief. “Hands behind your back,” he said, and she obeyed. He pulled the panties on her head back and off, pulled the damp wad of white panties out of her mouth and dropped them to the floor of the van. Marie’s hair fell over her eyes and without thinking she reached up to smooth it. He immediately grabbed the chain between her breasts and twisted it, bringing her numb nipples painfully back to life. She gasped and her eyes filled, but she understood and put her hand behind her back again. He fixed her hair himself, running his fingers through it, then arranging it over her shoulders. He leaned back and looked critically at her, as if assessing his handiwork. It made Marie feel objectified, like she was his toy, his plaything. She loved it. Finally he looked her in the eyes. Hers.
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