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“And now that we’ve got that outta the way, let’s get to work,” I say.
Grim glares at me. “This is twice now I’m being left out of a purge. You owe me.”
Soul slaps him on the back, and Grim twists to look at him. “You can have the next one,” Prez promises.
“I should have all of ‘em.”
“C’mon, Grim, let’s leave the two love birds to it,” Soul says. The two of them walk away, but Soul stops and glances over his shoulder. “Give him hell.”
The two of them disappear into the elevator, and I focus all my attention on Apple.
“You still sure about this?” I ask.
She nods even as she fidgets with her hands.
“I’m gonna need words, babe.”
“Y-yes, I’m sure.”
“Forgive me for pointing this out, but you don’t seem sure.”
Apple steels her spine and takes a few deep breaths. After lowering her hands to her sides, she says, “I’m sure.”
I press my hand to the scanner, and once my prints are verified, the door to the Confessional slides open, and the scent of piss wafts from the room.
“Jesus, you couldn’t wait?” I gripe, striding inside, blocking Apple from Kyle’s view. “Oh, that’s right. No more bathroom breaks for you.”
Kyle is trussed up on the seven-foot-tall cross leaning against the wall, and he’s naked. His arms are stretched out, and his wrists are bound to the wooden structure with barbed wire. His ankles are bound the same way. Blood trickles from where the barbs are digging into his flesh, and he only makes it worse as he thrashes against the bindings.
“What do you want from me?” he demands. “What’s done is done. I can’t bring her ba—”
I lunge forward and shove my fist into his gut, and he groans in pain as his body involuntarily tries to curl in on itself, pulling on the wire.
He catches his breath and glares at me, but when I step to the side and Apple moves toward him, his eyes widen comically.
“A-Apple?” he stutters as he darts his eyes from her to me and back again. “But how? They said… How are you here?”
She flashes a sardonic grin. “Turns out, you’re not all that great at poisoning people.”
Kyle glares at me. “You told me she was dead,” he accuses, his attitude shifting now that he knows he failed.
“No, I didn’t.” I reach out and thump him on the forehead. “You made a fucking assumption.”
“Why, Kyle?” Apple asks, stepping between us. “Why did you do it?”
Kyle presses his lips together and says nothing.
We can’t have that. The Confessional is for, well, confessions.
I move to the table along the opposite wall and make a show of inspecting the tools laid out for me. Soul and Grim know me well. My usual whips and a tactical machete with a serrated blade are displayed in a row, but at the end of the table, there are a few things that are new.
Apple steps up next to me and lifts one of the small vials. “Xylazine,” she says as she scans the label. “That’s… poetic.”
I smirk. “You know us. We’re all about poetic justice.”
Her eyes drop to the whips. “Really?”
I shrug. “I was punished with a whip of sorts, so I do the same to others. It’s a form of poetic justice, don’t ya think?”
