The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 70

Margot’s POV

I took steadying deep breaths as Coban prepared to continue, pacing slowly across the room before me…

–

My heart was still pounding from that last line the one about bringing me pain in ways he thought I’d enjoy.

The worst part about his threat too?

He was probably right…

His fingers brushed the edge of the paper slowly, deliberately, like he wanted to make me wait for it.

I sat stiff–backed on the mattress, legs pressed together, hands clasped so tightly in my lap they hurt. The air in the room was thick and hot despite the cold cement walls.

He cleared his throat, soft, but condescending.

“Likes for me to follow his rules,” he read aloud, his eyes flicking to mine again, “and if I don’t, he has a temper like a storm cloud. I don’t know how to predict him yet. I don’t know if I ever will know.”

He let that hang for a second.

A dark chuckle slipped from his lips.

“Storm cloud,” he repeated, amused. “Not a bad reference I suppose – a bit childish, but considering your age, we will let that slide.” He insults me, as my skin burns with fresh embarrassment.

I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink.

“But here’s the thing, Bella,” he said, stepping closer now, slow, predatory, like a lion circling something weaker than it. “You think the problem is not knowing how to predict me… but maybe it’s that you already do.”

His words hit like a bullet.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“Tell me,” he said, tone suddenly sharp. “When you saw that note on the desk today, when you read that one sentence telling you not to leave the cell… did you know what would happen if you ignored it?”

I nodded, only barely,

His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur. “But you did it anyway? So what does that make you?”

I stared at him, pulse roaring in my ears.

He waited.

And when I didn’t answer fast enough, he crossed the space between us in two long strides and crouched right in front of me, elbows resting on his knees, notebook still dangling from one hand.

He was so close I could see the faintest scar across his right eyebrow. A faded line. A reminder that something dark had happened to him in the past…

“Well?” he prompted, gaze locked on mine. “What does that make you?”

“Stupid,” I whispered, hating myself for saying it, but I was?

But he smirked at that. “Yes, slightly, but what else does that make you?”

He tilted his head slightly, voice dipping into something darker.

“.. I don’t know…” I swallow, as his teeth slowly appear in the form of a dangerous smile.

“It makes you defiant.”

Pause.

“And I love defiance. Almost as much as I love punishing it.”

My skin prickled as his words wrapped around me like barbed wire.

He straightened back up, flipping the page again. My breathing felt shallow now, like the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

“He enjoys mind games,” Coban read, his voice laced with amusement, “teasing me with things like sleeping on the floor opposed to earning my right to the bed. He knows I’ll listen.”

He looked up and smiled, knowing that he was completely humiliating me right now…

“I do enjoy mind games,” he agreed unapologetically. “Because they teach you something. About control. About trust. About pain. About who the fuck is in charge around here…”

I flinched at the last point, and he noticed.

“But the worst pain I have ever felt,” he said slowly, “was betrayal.”

I didn’t know what to say. His gaze had shifted, his voice quieter now, but not gentle.

Never gentle.

What had he gone through?

What exactly landed him in here?

“So don’t become the next person who tries it,” he finished, his voice dropping low again.

I nodded quickly, throat dry. “I won’t.”

“I know you won’t,” he murmured. “Because you want to be my good girl don’t you?”

He tossed the notebook onto the mattress beside me like it was finished business.

“Don’t you?!” He snapped again, staring at me, as my head nodded frantically – more from his tone than anything else.

“Rewrite your notes. Those ones are shit. You’ll give them good feedback on me tomorrow and if you don’t, I’ll find out, and then I’ll be mad enough to actually hurt you. Understand?” He suddenly points, the action a subtle warning.

But he meant it.

“Y–Yeah, sure, I’ll do it now.” I swallow to meet the dryness in my throat, terror soaring through me now.

“I’m going to shower,” he said, stepping back and peeling off his shirt like the conversation hadn’t just sliced me open. “You’ll fix it for me coming back. If I approve of it, you’ll get a reward.” He chimes, his tone always changing and keeping me on edge.

“O–Okay…” I push myself to stand, gathering the notebook and pen to head towards the desk.

And then he was gone…