𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄
He moved closer. I could see him from the corner of my eye. The dark material of his suit, the white cuffs of his shirt. He was tall, his shoulders broad. For a second, I wanted to move my glance from the wall to his face. But I knew better. I knew never to look unless commanded to do so.
"I know Jane is not your real name."
I swallowed.
"I know you can understand me since you spoke to me earlier."
Because you demanded it.
"I want to know your story, Jane."
No, you don't.
"I want to help you."
Liar.
