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Heather lays my hand back on her thigh and reaches for Oliver’s. “Oliver.”
His hand goes out. The ruler comes down across Oliver’s palm again. This time his shoulder jerks. The cord slips between his fingers and lands across his leg, but he doesn’t make another sound.
I stop moving.
Heather lays the ruler beside her and picks up my hand. She turns my thumb toward the light and takes up the file again.
Oliver retrieves the cord. The first red bead goes on. Then black.
I stare at the mark spreading across his palm while Heather smooths a rough edge from my nail with slow, careful strokes. She’s not going to hit me. She’s giving it to him. Bitch.
Across from me, Oliver picks up the S again.
By the time Heather’s satisfied with my hands, Oliver’s rebuilt the bracelet.
The letters sit between red and black beads with one piece of silver on either side.
SIMON.
Oliver’s right palm is still marked from the ruler. He keeps the cord pinched between the fingers of that hand anyway while Heather takes the file over my last nail once more.
“There.” She rubs her thumb across the edge, checking her work. “Much better.”
The kitchen is gone from under the nails and every rough edge she could find has been smoothed away. I hate them.
Heather reaches past me and takes the bracelet from Oliver. She checks the spacing, turns one bead, then lays the cord across my wrist with the letters facing up. “Finish it.”
Oliver crouches in front of me. His fingers brush my wrist as he works the ends together. He pulls the knot tight.
Heather turns my wrist until the letters sit exactly where she wants them. “Thank him.”
I could refuse. “Thank you, Oliver.”
His eyes lift to mine. Then he sits back on his heels and rubs his thumb once across the knot he tied. “You’re welcome, Simon.”
Jamie says nothing from Heather’s side.
Heather runs one finger over the letters the same way she checked my nails.
Oliver’s tied the ticket on my wrist.
Ben’s been 86’d.
CHAPTER 33
Heather
Simon’s door gets locked first.
He decided taking his pill was worth more than whatever I choose to make it cost if he didn’t. For the first Simon, that’s remarkably fast obedience. I knew he’d be worth the red paint.
Oliver follows me down the hall. Jamie trails behind him, close enough that I can smell vanilla when I stop at the green door.
I open it and wait for Oliver to go inside. He does, but his eyes drop to the key in my hand before he turns around.
“Should I leave Oliver unlocked?” I ask Jamie.
“I’m standing right here,” Oliver says.
