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30
When I barge into Mr Carmichael’s office, the door almost falling off its hinges from the force of my anger, Sally is behind me apologising on my behalf. I hadn’t even realised she’d followed me and frankly I don’t even care. She can fuck off if she thinks I’m going back to lessons with her, no matter how nice she seems.
“I’m sorry, Mr Carmichael, Asia is very upset this morning.”
“Very upset?” I respond sarcastically. “That’s putting it mildly. I’m fuckingmurderous.”
Mr Carmichael doesn’t even flinch and that only serves to piss me off more. How dare he be so unaffected by my anger, by my threat.
“It’s okay, Sally. I wanted to speak with Asia before I left anyway.”
I make a kind of strangled noise, a cross between a sneer and a laugh. “I bet you fucking do. This should be good,” I respond, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes at him.
“Are you sure? I could stay if that would help?” Sally offers kindly. That only pisses me off further. On a better day, I might’ve warmed to her some more. Today is not that day.
“No!” I snap at the same time as Mr Carmichael. Though, his no is peppered with an appreciative, if not withering smile. I mean, really, this guy fucked up someone so bad they were left disabled. I amnotthe biggest monster in this room.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she responds, stepping back quietly and closing the door behind her.
Mr Carmichael waits a few more seconds before gently placing the pen he’s holding onto the table and turns to face me. “Do you want to sit?” he asks.
“Do I want to fucking sit? No, Carmichael, I want to fuckingkillyou!” I snap, clenching my fists until my nails dig painfully into the palms of my hands.
He just regards me with this maddeningly calm expression that tells me two things. One, he doesn’t believe that I would actually kill him, and two, he’s been waiting for me to come and see him all morning. He’s had time to prepare for my wrath, to control his emotions.
I, however, am brimming witheverything.
“That would work for the King, I guess,” he says eventually. “What are you going to do, Asia, murder me with your bare hands or stab me in the eye with my pen? I think the second option is better, but only if you’re quick enough. You might be a good fighter, but I’m a better one. I wasn’t always principal of a school, but you know that already.”
His response and his conviction knock the wind out of my sails, and I find myself slamming down into the chair behind me. “At least I would’vetriedto save Pink’s life, even if you beat me in a fight. At least I could say I fucking tried. You, you’re just a spineless, lying, piece of shit,” I snarl, wishing looks could kill because with mine now, he’d be dead a thousand times over and Pink would be free.
“You believe what you need to believe. I know what I am, who I am,” he counters.
“Yeah, you’re abaaaaa-baaaaa,” I mock, imitating a sheep. Childish, yes, but right now I don’t give a fuck.
“Nice one. It’s been a while since someone has had the balls to goad me like that. But you’re quite right, Iamthe Black Sheep. I’m the one who tried to get away. But like all things you run from, they catch up with you in the end. You of all people should understand that.”
“You’re not even trying to deny who you are then?”
“The King and I are familiar, yes.”
“And?”
“And what? That’s my cross to bear.”
“Who were you?” I persist. “The King’s second hand, his third? Were you part of his inner circle or just some kid who did a few jobs for him like Eastern? Maybe you had a bit more responsibility like Camden?”
“Does it really matter? I was someone I didn’t want to be. I tried to get away from that life a long time ago, long before my younger brother was murdered. I’ve been running ever since.”
But that’s as far as his explanation goes. Not that I care. The fact is, he was part of the King’s crew and like Eastern said, death is the only way to escape. Everyone knows that.
You see,deathis either a blessed escape or a journey into hell, but dead? Dead is the cold, staring eyes of Camden’s mum.
She’s dead and Mr Carmichael is very much alive.
“Pink is going to die, isn’t she?” I blurt out suddenly. The absolute truth of that statement hits me hard and I double over in pain. My hands cover my face and I have to bite the flesh of my palms to stop myself from screaming.
“Camden’s mum was a warning, but she became disposable. All the King’s women are, at one point or another. A sad inevitability. Pink still has value,” he insists.
