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16
“So, what happens now?” I stand in the room awkwardly.
“Let’s just go back to bed.”
“Why don’t we just get it over with. I already know I won’t wake up.” I’m surprised by how easily the words come out. I’m scared, I don’t want to die, but part of me has already expected it. I won’t be part of this world for much longer, and I guess I won’t care once I’m dead. Just like I didn’t care about my existence before I was alive.
“I just want you to go to sleep peacefully.”
“How? How are you going to do it?”
“Eli is a chemist. He made some kind of gas. We are going to seal and fill the room once you’re asleep. Eli promised you won’t feel anything.”
I don’t know why I care or asked this next question, but I want to know. “What are you going to do with my body?”
“There is actually a crematory down here.”
“Wow, they really thought about everything,” I joke half-heartedly. Ryker doesn’t care about my joke since his perpetual frown only deepens.
We climb into the bed together, and I watch Ryker prepare to cuff me.
“You don’t have to do that. Seriously, I’m done fighting,” I tell him honestly. “I just want you to hold me until I go to sleep.” He must believe me, because without thinking too long he drops the cuff to the ground. The metal clinks as it hits the concrete floor.
I turn onto my side, and Ryker molds his body against mine.
“Hunter isn’t here because he couldn’t do it. We had to drug him so he wouldn’t interfere. I don’t want you to think he doesn’t care about you. He is sorry.”
“Are you sorry that you have to kill me?”
“Very,” he answers without having to think about it, and I believe him. I believe that this crazy, violent, criminal has that shred of empathy left.
“Would it help if I’ll forgive you?”
“Why would you do that, Sugar?”
“I would… I really, really would, if you promise to do something for me.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Kill someone for me.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath behind me, and Ryker’s body tenses. His arms tighten a little, too, though that could be involuntary. Surprise can do that. And I’m sure I’ve surprised him. Don’t most people have last words of love and forgiveness and stuff like that?
Yeah. No. Not gonna happen for me.
His breath stirs my hair when he asks, “Who do you want dead?”
“The man who used to be my stepfather.” There’s hardness in my voice and I welcome it. I need him to know how serious this is. “I want him dead. If I can’t be alive to do it, at least I’ll die at peace knowing you’ll take care of him for me.”
“Why do you want him dead? Did he hurt you? Do things to you?”
“Not what you are thinking.” I take a deep, shuddery breath. It’s like pulling a scab off a wound that will never, ever heal. “He killed my mom.”
“Fuck me.”
“I’ve never talked about it before. It’s been too hard to talk about. But I might as well get it over with now. He finally ended up beating her to death after trying many, many times. I mean, not that I think he was deliberately trying to kill her—”
“I get what you mean.”
