“When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it,” he says, hissing as my nails drag up his nape to his hair. “So when I say to be in my room by midnight…” I scream as the room warps into a smash of colors swirling around us, until they turn black and my back is pressed to a hard surface in a bedroom I don’t recognize. “You’ll be in my room at fucking midnight.”
