His hand found the latch behind him. He pulled the door shut until it clicked into place. In that small, sharp sound, Samuel felt the snapping of a trap, though he could not yet understand what kind of trap it was.
“Come closer,” she instructed.
He did not move.
“I will not harm you,” she said, reading the terror in his rigid posture. “I only wish to talk.”
He stepped forward because, in the reality of his world, there was no version of this moment where he could refuse. There was no choice hidden behind his hesitation, no escape waiting beyond the threshold. He approached the bed the way a person steps into freezing water—not by choice, but because the alternative carries an even greater danger. He stopped a few feet from the mattress and stood with his hands folded in front of him, keeping his eyes cast down toward the floor.
