I promised myself that I would never return. His voice curling over my ear, the heaviness of his gaze forcing me into surrender without a single touch, I relived the mask party in my mind all week.

I ought to have been frightened. I ought to have torn the mask to pieces and set it on fire. Instead, though, I found myself using my fingers to trace its edges at night while visualising his gloved hand.

By Friday, I was experiencing a fever-like pain. And I didn't even think twice when another envelope showed up in my mailbox on Saturday. It had a wax seal that glinted in the afternoon...