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“No,” she says finally.
I smile. “Don’t leave your room until I say you can.” The walls go up behind her eyes. “Unless you want to find out what I’m doing to him,” I amend. “Maybe listen to some music. And close the window too, before you catch a cold.”
She looks down at herself, then at me.
The awkwardness of the situation—she’s in a cold room with me dressed in only her pajamas—must finally dawn on her, for she folds her arms and nods, averting my gaze. I try not to let my eyes linger too long out of respect, but it’s pretty fucking hard.
I leave the room.
Keller regains consciousness while I’m finishing up the final knot that will keep him secure in the chair.
I’ve pushed the dining table and other chairs away, backing the chair he’s in against the wall. I even thought of the housekeepers and spread an old shower curtain I found in the storage closet on the hardwood floors. Blood is hard to get out of wood.
The moment Keller realizes the situation he’s in, horror washes over his features. Often, my memory can be a curse, but this time I’m fucking happy I won’t be able to forget it.
“What the fuck is this,” he rasps.
I laugh. “Retribution, motherfucker.”
He doesn’t share my humor. He tests the knots but finds that he can barely move. Another brief moment of horror. “You’re making a big mistake, Harrington.”
This guy is so full of shit, it’s unbelievable. “What do I possibly have to lose, Keller?” I ask him, taking a menacing step toward him. “I don’t have a girlfriend for you to fuck, you can’t get me kicked out of SFU, and my family has more wealth than yours will ever have. Which one of us made a mistake?”
I get my knife out again. His eyes flicker to the blade in my hand, and his throat bobs with a nervous gulp. It’s like a shot of dopamine straight to my brain.
Gosh, I fucking love this.
When he sent me the video of him fucking that bitch Harlow, I knew I would have to wait to get my revenge. I had planned to settle this with him after we left Saint Frederic University—and I still might, since killing him in Alexander’s apartment might be off the table—but I didn’t expect to get the opportunity handed to me like this.
I don’t like surprises, but this one, it’s damn near perfect.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
Alize has been here for a while now.
It’s too convenient that he chose tonight, a night when Alexander isn’t here, to do this dumb shit. He doesn’t answer, so I trail the knife over his other cheek. He shudders, but still doesn’t speak. He’s defiant, even in this situation with odds stacked against him.
I mean, he must know that I’m going to hurt him anyway, but his body’s need for self-preservation should eventually override logic. It’s why torturing somebody during interrogation always works.
Fortunately, I’m always prepared.
I twist a ring off one of my thumbs, turning my back to him briefly to flip the cap open. There are three green pills sitting in the little compartment, and I take them all. It’s my emergency stash—I usually take one when my barrage of thoughts grow overwhelming, to get some peace and quiet to recoup until I can handle the terror of being alive again.
All three of them, though, will be a trip for Keller. I just need one last thing.
I find a rocks glass and some cheap whiskey in the back of Alexander’s liquor cabinet. After pouring a shot, I toss the pills in the liquor. Swirling them around until they dissolve. Keller’s eyes are on me as I approach.
He pastes his lips shut.
I twist my lips, holding back a laugh. This motherfucker must not remember that I’m a med student. The handle of my blade is heavy enough to simulate a reflex hammer, and I use it to tapjustthe spot on the front of his chin. His mouth snaps open against his will—the beauty of the monosynaptic muscle stretch reflex.
The second his mouth opens, I toss the concoction of pills and alcohol down his throat. He sputters and chokes, but if he wants air he has to swallow. And he does.
His helplessness finally gets to him.
He shouts and squirms and swears bloody murder on me and my family. I grin in his face, watching as the vein in his head bulges, his pasty skin turning pink. It’s comedic gold. I should be recording this to show Vance and Alex.
“I thought you would be cooler about this,” I shrug. “You’re so into drugging people I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
