"Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Carmine announced suddenly, sliding out of the booth.
Brinley, already nose-deep in the menu and humming some tune only she could hear, didn’t even glance up. “’Kay! Don’t be long, Carmie, they’re gonna bring us foooood soon!”
You relaxed a little—until a shadow fell over you. A manicured hand snatched you up so quickly you barely had time to yelp. Carmine held you pinched delicately between her fingers, her smile looking far too smug for your liking.
“Don’t worry, cousin,” she whispered as she tucked you discreetly against her side, “I’m not taking you far. Just a… detour.”
You tried to protest, but she was already striding away from the booth. Your tiny voice got muffled against her blouse as she slipped into the bathroom.
The door swung shut behind her, and you were immediately hit with the stark change in atmosphere—bright fluorescent lights, the sterile smell of lemon cleaner, the faint echo of running water from one of the sinks.
Carmine checked the stalls quickly, then leaned against the counter, holding you up at her eye level. Her grin widened.
“You know,” she began in a conspiratorial tone, “you’re way too fun to just leave out there sitting between Brinley’s airbags all day. Where’s the mischief in that?”
Your gut twisted. “Mischief? Carmine, what are you—”
“Shhh,” she teased, pressing a finger over you gently but firmly enough to silence your words. “You’ll ruin the surprise. I promise, it’s nothing too bad. Just thought you deserved a little… adventure while we wait on brunch.”
From the glint in her eyes, you knew this wasn’t going to be anything simple.
Carmine had something in mind. Something that almost certainly wouldn’t end well for you.
And she was loving every second of your dread.
Carmine dangled you between her fingers like she was weighing her options, lips pursed in mock thought.
“Now, where to put you…” she mused aloud, scanning the bathroom like it was some kind of playground. Her gaze flicked toward the sinks, then to the paper towel dispenser, then—oh no—straight toward the stalls.
“Carmine,” you said quickly, your tiny voice sharp with alarm, “don’t even think about it. Brinley’s going to notice I’m missing. She always notices!”
Carmine’s smirk grew, devilish and unconcerned. “Oh, please. Brinley notices when her lip gloss shade is half a tone off, but when it comes to you?” She gave you a little shake. “Let’s be real, she’ll just assume you’re happily tucked between her boobs the whole time.”
Before you could argue further, she swept into the last stall at the end of the row. The squeaky door swung shut behind her, echoing in the tiled room.
The toilet lid was down, the seat polished to an unsettling shine. She held you over it like she was about to set down some fragile trinket.
“Don’t you dare—” you started.
“Oh, relax.” She lowered you carefully onto the cold plastic lid, her manicured finger booping you playfully on the chest. “I’m not that heartless. You’ll be safe here… for now. I just want to see how long it takes your loving wife to realize you’re not tagging along.”
You staggered as she straightened back up, towering over you with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.
“This is gonna be fun,” she purred, unlocking the stall with a flick of her wrist. “For me, at least.”
The door creaked open, and her heels clicked back across the bathroom tiles. A moment later, the door shut behind her, leaving you stranded on the toilet seat of a public bathroom stall.
The silence pressed in. The faint buzz of the lights overhead filled your ears. And you were left staring at the metal lock of the stall door, small and impossibly out of reach.
Alone.
Trapped.
Waiting for someone, anyone to come find you.
Who comes into the stall?
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