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10 - The Swing
Kristoff We stay a while in traffic without many conversations afterward. Titania sits, rigid, as my hands roam over her knees, squeezing her inner thighs, my eyes on her face, testing her. She shuts her eyes, holding her breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. A car hoots behind us and I rev up the engine, meandering down the road, Bloom's Bazaar's familiar tower looming straight up ahead, causing my stomach to churn with fright. My fear comes alive and I almost turn back, but something stops me. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure it's not just Titania. It's something nagging at the back of my mind, urging me to keep driving and don't stop, and I don't try to argue with it. My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel harder, whirling past black, huge gated mansions sprea
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