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“Nico, tell Gavriil I will have someone to him by the end of the month, and I promise he'll get to play.”
Nico speaks to Gavriil, and Gavriil replies, also shaking me by the hand.
“He thank you, mister boss man.” Nico translates for me.
“You're a good kid.” I ruffle Nico's hair and ignore the growl from Gavriil. “Do you guys need anything?”
“You send pizza later?”
“Sure thing.”
“N-no t-torture?” The prisoner gasps. “I won't be made an example of?”
“No, you won't,” I promise.
“Oh thank you, Mr Thayer. I will be eternally grateful and loyal.”
I smile at him, and then kick the stool away from under his feet. Who said not making a public example of this man meant I'd let a dishonest thief live. No one takes from me.
Death is a mesmerising thing. No one here speaks, just watching the swinging man thrash about. I always wonder what is going through their mind. A perfectly healthy man suddenly facing certain death and knowing there is nothing he can do about it. All the time, he watches six men who could save him so easily, but all of whom do nothing. I can only imagine the frustration and despair. Eventually, there is nothing left in the man's eyes, the swinging of his body nothing more than momentum. Why is watching this man die so sexually arousing? I'm not the only one, I think Gavriil is going to need some alone time after this.
Now I have two names to make a public example of. Then I can go home and make the most of having the perfect boy at my disposal.
seventeen
Porter
Gladysstayedwithmeuntil the tears stopped, letting me dump my emotional trauma on her shoulder.
“It's OK, Poppet.”
It's stupid to feel connected to this woman I hardly know, just because she calls me poppet and makes good muffins. I know it's wrong to have her sympathy over my mother, but I can't tell her everything else. My sister being locked up somewhere under this house, or the fact I'm here under unusual circumstances. I can't say I'm here against my will after agreeing to it, and I can't say I'm unhappy about that part.
The more I cry into her apron, the more I believe I'm crying out my past pain rather than my current situation. It's because I shouldn't want to abandon my life as much as I do.
“You'll never have to eat a freezer surprise again for as long as you are here. I promise you that.”
“I used to dance. I love to dance, but I'll have to stop that now.”
“Why do you have to stop dancing?”
“I need stuff…” I need to say the truth. I've always struggled to tell anyone what I do. It loses the romantic feel when I say it aloud. “I'm an exotic dancer. I think that's what it's called. I go on stage and dance with a pole for other people's amusement.”
“Wow, that must be such a buzz.”
“It is. I know it sounds sleezy, but I enjoy the freedom of the dance.”
“Well. I need to start cooking dinner, but I have something for you.” Gladys takes a key off her large bunch, I can't help looking for any that look like dungeon keys, but really it wouldn't be that obvious.
I stare at the key for the whole of my lunch, but it tastes too amazing to leave any of it.
Now I have cleared up and I'm ready to see where this key leads me. Gladys said it was the second door along from the pool, the first turns out to be a downstairs shower room. The key slides into the door but I can't turn it.
What if this leads to the basement?
I could find my sister down there. Then what? Would I get her out of the locked cage? Drag her out of the house and run?
I can't do that.
