Chapter 1

Let me start out by saying that my arrangement isn’t what you think.

My sugar daddy, we’ll call him Mark, doesn’t pay me to satisfy some weird sexual fantasy. It’s much more mundane than that.

He takes me on dates, buys me nice things, and we hang out in his multi-million dollar mansion two to three times a week. The guy is lonely. That, I can deal with. But what happened last week has me questioning everything I know about this job.

Mark pays for just about all of my bills. I won’t give the exact amount for privacy reasons, but just know that it’s enough to not only keep the lights on but put me into early retirement if I’m not stupid about my spending.

I used to think that arrangement was a godsend. Now, I’m not so sure.

Like I said before, our relationship isn’t sexual. The most Mark and I have ever done is hold hands. That’s it. It’s not that I dissuade him from it. It’s just that it’s not what Mark is after.

I’m not even the only girl he has this arrangement with.

Sometimes Mark has multiple women over at once. I’ve been around long enough to see dozens of girls cycle through. Each time a new one comes around, Mark tells her the same thing.

“This relationship has one stipulation. One rule that you must follow, no if’s and’s or but’s about it. Under no circumstances should you ever go into the basement.”

That’s it. Just respect his privacy and don’t open the basement door.

Now I’ll admit, I have gotten curious a time or two. I’ve heard some… less than normal sounds coming from down there on a few different occasions. Whimpering, heavy grunts, chair legs scraping against the floor.

Mark doesn’t acknowledge it. I figured it was none of my business what he was hiding down there. And really, what choice did I have?

My parents died in a car wreck when I was freshly eighteen without a penny to their names. All they left me was a house with a $350,000 mortgage and a twenty-three-year-old Ford F-150. I hadn’t even graduated high school yet.

Needless to say, I came to depend on Mark’s generosity. He had only ever shown me kindness. If he was dabbling in something shady, I didn’t want to know.

Until last week. That was when I heard a sound from the basement that I couldn’t ignore.

“Kayla, I’m going to shower. Be out in a sec.” Mark shot me a smile.

“Have fun!” I said as he disappeared behind the elevator doors.

I heard the faint noise of the shower turning on moments later. Seconds afterward, I heard something else. Something that made my blood run cold.

“Help.”

I immediately stopped scrolling on my phone. My eyes grew wide as dinner plates. I strained my ears, praying that it was somehow my mind playing tricks.

“Help. Please.”

I heard it clear as day. The voice of a little girl.

I shot off the couch and started toward where I’d heard the sound. “Hello? Where are you?”

I hoped beyond all hope that the response wouldn’t come from behind that door. But something in me knew that it would.

“Help me, please! It’s so dark.”

A knot twisted in my gut. My intuition was correct. The little girl’s voice was coming from behind the basement door.

I hesitated. “Who are you? Why are you in there?”

“Please, lady. Let me out. Mr. Mark trapped me in here. I’m so scared…”

The fear in her voice broke my heart. I reached for the doorknob without thinking. Before I knew it, the door had been flung open.

My jaw fell to the floor. I wasn’t looking at a scared little girl. What I saw instead was a pair of red, glowing eyes in the midst of the inky black.

A low, rough chuckle emitted from the darkness. It rang in my ears, vibrating through my head.

When it died down, it was as if I could feel whatever was down there smiling at me. It made my skin crawl – like spiders skittering across my flesh.

I was frozen with fear.

And then it spoke.

“Naughty girl. You should have followed the rules. Now you belong to me.”

I was suddenly thrown backward. Cool air rushed into my mouth and nose. For a moment, I thought I was having the life sucked out of me. Then it stopped.

I sat there on the floor, hyperventilating, the gaping maw of the basement staring into me.

Once I got my bearings, I glanced up.

Mark was standing there, towel wrapped around his waist. His face was pale as a ghost. He looked at me then back to the open door. He only muttered two words.

“Get out.”

It’s been six days since then. Mark has completely cut me off. He gave no explanation. The second I crossed the threshold of his property, he blocked me on everything.

But that’s not the worst part.

I’ve been experiencing blackouts ever since. Parts of my memory that are just… blank. These aren’t just innocent mental lapses.

Three days ago, I woke up clutching a knife to my throat.

Yesterday, I found myself staring down the barrel of a handgun.

Today, I came to with a lit match in my hand.

I’m scared. So scared. The thing in the basement… I think it’s inside me.

I don’t know who to turn to. I have no family. No friends that I can rely on. I’m all alone.

And that’s exactly what it wants.