13. Roman #2
“Do you want to know why I stopped hanging out with you after that? There was something off about your exchange. Something that didn’t sit right in my gut. You remember now, don’t you, Jackie boy?”
His muffled sounds suggest he is trying to speak, but that privilege is gone.
“I always found it strange that you knew Dr Fisher. He wasn’t someone you should know. Not with your station.”
I continue, carving lines beneath the heart, a little deeper than necessary.
“I remember it clearly, Jack. The others were busy showing off by the pool, too distracted to notice anything. But I saw you. I saw the shift. The confidence. The way you carried yourself when he spoke to you. Then you both moved off, tucked yourselves into a corner to hide the conversation.”
I lean in slightly.
“That was your first mistake.”
I pause.
“You think my house isn’t wired? We have cameras in every inch of that property. Nowhere, and I mean nowhere, has a blind spot.”
“Something just niggled at the back of my mind, you know? Like a scratch I needed to itch. When you left, I went and watched it back, Jackie boy.” I grit my teeth at the memory of what was said in my home. “Do you remember? Hmm?”
He doesn’t respond.
“ANSWER ME!” I scream into his ear, loud enough that my throat burns. His body convulses as he shakes his head.
“He asked you if you relocated the dogs. Does that ring any bells yet, Jackie boy?”
Jack only whimpers, so I continue.
“Yes, you told him. The kennel is empty. No strays were left behind.”
I mimic his voice, the memory so sharp it is like I am watching the CCTV all over again.
Fisher hums, satisfied by Jack’s response. “Good. I dislike noise.” He pauses briefly. “And the one I favour… the difficult breed?”
“Still in your care.” Jack’s mouth tightens slightly, enough to read if you’re looking for it.
“As it should be. Training takes patience, consistency, a willingness to ignore the noise until obedience replaces it.”
Jack glances at Dr Fisher. “You seem pleased.”
“I am,” Dr Fisher says calmly. “Some animals require a firmer approach, but once broken, they are remarkable. Loyal. Predictable.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “In time, you will have your own pup to train. You will appreciate the difference.”
“You’ve spent years on that one,” Jack says dryly.
“An investment,” Dr Fisher replies lightly. “Some animals are worth the effort, especially when they will soon forget what freedom ever felt like.”
I’m pulled out of the memory as I yank Jack’s head back.
Was Dr Fisher talking about my Tinkerbell back then?
The thought makes something feral rise in my chest. I hope I am overreacting.
She never said he hurt her, but there is more to their story than she is telling me, there has to be.
Will she ever trust me enough to say it out loud?
The thought that she still holds back from me burns, but if this is what it takes to give her closure, then I will see it through.
“You see Jack, I found that odd. Why would you and Dr Fisher be dealing with dogs? And why would that be such a secretive conversation you walked away from me for?” I seethe.
“I looked into it… there were no dogs, Jack. I thought maybe it was weapons, or maybe you were stuffing dogs full of drugs. That’s why I stopped talking to you, but it wasn’t that, was it? ”
I pause, ripping off his duct tape so the top layer of skin flays with it.
“It was fucking humans!” I scream, jumping back just as Jack vomits the gag and what’s left in his stomach all over the floor. “You’re a fucking piece of shit, Jack.”
The crack of knuckles against bone splits the air, sharp and ugly as his head snaps sideways with a wet sound.
His teeth click together hard enough that I feel it in my own jaw as his body sways back in the chains.
Another punch but a duller impact this time.
Meat on meat. Breath bursts from his lungs in grunts as he tries to cushion the blows.
I hit again and again. His cartilage gives as our skin slap together. My knuckles sting.
Good.
I welcome the pain. I am breathing hard. Too hard. My song is still playing in the background, but all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears. The ugly rhythm of my fist meeting him over and over until an arm comes from behind me and pulls me off him.
“ENOUGH!” Atlas barks and I heave in lungfuls of air, finally looking at the destruction of Jack’s body.
Atlas walks over to him and checks his pulse as I hear other footsteps behind me.
Turning around, I see Felix, Riggs and Victor standing there.
Victor is leaning casually against the wall; Felix has his arms crossed as Riggs flicks his lighter open and closed.
A habit he picked up after he was gifted it for his sixteenth birthday.
“Well, he’s not dead,” Atlas announces and I spin around, pointing at him.
“He’s not dying until he tells me where these kennels are,” I seethe.
The silence is so loud it makes my brain hurt. I realise then that someone has turned off my music and all that rage I poured into Jack’s body starts to creep back in. I cannot work like this.
“Never thought you cared about dogs this much,” Riggs muses from the sidelines.
“Riggs,” Felix snaps, then turns his glare on me. “Would you like to tell me what the fuck the kennels are and why you’re torturing Mr Archer?”
“Not particularly,” I respond.
Victor pushes himself off the wall and makes his way over to Jack, circling him until he’s facing his back, then whistles.
“A skull? Is that your calling card or something?”
“Augh,” I groan. “I have no idea why I am friends with any of you.”
“Of course you do. No one else can put up with your craziness,” Riggs interjects.
“I’m not crazy.”
“Sure, kidnapping a teacher, tying him up and carving your skull into his back over dogs is totally normal,” Riggs responds in a deadpan voice.