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Twenty-Two
Conor
Michael releaseda moan that had me peering at him over my laptop.
Hatred filled me as he blinked at me, bleary-eyed from the drugs I’d dosed him with.
It wasn’t often that I felt this level of hatred, but it wasn’t often that my world was caving in around me.
Traitors—they were everywhere.
Every. Fucking. Where.
Callum O’Reilly had been my friend since I was a kid. He’d put up with my shit for as long as I’d put up with his. I was supposed to be his newborn’s godfather, but he’d betrayedus.
More to the point, he’d betrayedme.
Rage spilled inside me like toxic sludge from an oil tanker into the ocean. It polluted everywhere it touched, turbocharging the hatred of moments before.
Ma had been betrayed too.
My whole family had.
I was so sick of this witch hunt, so sick of people who were supposed to have our goddamn backs taking pieces out of us like we were commodities.
“Where—” Michael broke into my thoughts as he panted a second, then slurred a word I didn’t understand. “Where’mi?”
“Where are you? Just a warehouse.”
Ananonymouswarehouse where no one would hear him scream.
“‘Ow?”
“I have contacts. It was a lot of fun hacking into your files, shuffling things around. Reminded me of the old days. The state believes you’ve been transferred to a hospice.” I stared at him. “Welcome to your new ward.”
His eyes flared wide before the lids drifted down as they darted around the space.
“See over there? That’s your new roommate.” The rat squeaked, and I murmured, “If you behave, you won’t end up being eaten by him. If you don’t, well, then your fate rests with him.”
Michael moaned then jerked his hands and feet which had the cuffs around them rattling.
I ignored him and kicked up my legs so they were resting against the side of his ‘mattress.’
“Ever heard of sirenomelia?” I asked as I scanned Aoife’s medical records. Her doctor had received notification this morning, and I’d received them a minute later.
Michael rasped, “Lemme go.”
“Why would I do that when it took me so much effort to get you here? If you don’t know what sirenomelia is, then just say so.”
“Need morphine.”
“Well, let me just pop into something uncomfortable and become your nurse,” I mocked. “Michael, what about this place is giving you the vibes that I give a fuck about how you feel?” I waved a hand around the room, further scoffing, “I mean, it’s so hygienic, isn’t it? What with the rats and the cobwebs?
“If you were someone I gave a fuck about, then this would be taped up better than an episode of Dexter, no contamination or germs allowed, but in your case, Mickey, you need to get friendly with germs.”
“Why?” he wheezed.
“Because if you’re lucky, they’ll kill you faster than I do.”
