8. Riley #2
“We guaranteed their safety in the name of humanity! We gave them a voice in the name of freedom of speech! And then all we could do was watch as they swept over our lands. We let them lie to us and eradicate us, all to prevent a bigger, deadlier conflict. Only for them to provoke Synechord into dropping nukes, cutting us off. And tell me, Hotshot, were any of us really surprised? Or did we all see it coming, and did we all just collectively decide to do nothing because we no longer had any fight left in us?” His lips curl. “We paralysed ourselves.”
“Not what I asked,” I point out. “Why are you doing all this to me specifically? You said I was special on my first day here. Why? Why does this feel ... so targeted? So personal?”
“I’m not here to answer your questions,” he retorts sharply, the look on his face the most hostile I’ve seen yet.
That does the opposite of discouraging me. Men like him are at their most vulnerable when they get worked up. That’s when you need to strike, but only ever in a way they never see coming.
“You pride yourself on what you do. You think it’s right.
So you should have no problem explaining the reasoning.
” I shrug. “Humour me. So many people did what I did, even though they were openly opposed to the Continuum before. And you know as well as I do that it was mostly due to blackmail. But many have supported it from the start. So many war criminals. So many traitors. What makes me so special?”
He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth stretching down in a sneer.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Hotshot. You know exactly how much of a symbol you once were.
” To my shock, he reaches out and grabs my chin, tilting my face, inspecting it from every angle.
“Your freckled, angelic fucking face was fucking everywhere. The young girl who ventured between the soldiers and the tanks, who pranced through occupied streets and danced around combat zones like it was nothing, and took the most stunning pictures.” He traces his thumb over my bottom lip, slowly and almost sadly.
“A prodigy war photographer with a face like yours. It was like you were born to do something that no kid should ever have to do. People went crazy. So many demonstrations all over the world. For a minute there, many of us believed that you were going to manage what all the negotiations failed to do.”
His words are like a dagger through my heart, twisting and twisting. Reopening the pit of anxiety I will forever associate with that time. That time, when I was just a clueless teenager with a hobby and inadvertently set in motion something enormous that I was then powerless to stop.
“I’m sorry that I failed,” I say quietly.
“I don’t blame you for that. No one in their right mind can blame you for that,” he assures me, and I suppress the urge to question the rightness of his mind out loud.
“You were such an icon, Riley. Our icon. You gave so many people so much hope.” The earnestness of his tone threatens to bring tears to my eyes.
“And so, naturally, many young girls wanted to be like you and do what you did. And no matter what their parents said, dozens of those little girls snuck into the streets, sought out ongoing riots and shootouts, and got themselves killed.”
I groan, my stomach churning unpleasantly, threatening to expel my earlier meal.
“I know,” I whisper, shuddering. “I’m more sorry for that than you’ll ever know.
” I’m surprised to catch him observing me with something like compassion.
“I didn’t know any of that would happen.
I never knew they would turn me into a media sensation.
I just ... wanted to take some pictures.
It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than that.
” He opens his mouth like he wants to interrupt me but then lets me carry on.
“Like many others who signed the anti-Continuum petition, my parents lost their jobs. Prices of everything skyrocketed. We still had the online connection to the rest of the world. I was good at social media. And I entered a few photography competitions to see if I could win some money. I didn’t think I would. ”
“But you did.”
“I won every single one. And my prize wasn’t just money, but also commissions for more of my pictures.
Newspapers and magazines from around the world reached out to have me cover the conflict all over.
They even provided me with an armoured car and a driver.
They paid me well ... I had four younger siblings who would have starved otherwise.
I never knew all those little girls would die because of me. ”
“Of course not,” he tells me with deceiving tenderness. “How could you have? You were just a girl, too. I know you were too young to foresee the consequences of your actions then. And do you know why I know that?”
His tone turns nasty very abruptly, and all air evaporates from my lungs. I shake my head slowly.
“I know because I had a baby sister. And she worshipped you.”
“Oh no,” I gasp.
“Oh yes. And so, when mustards finally made it to my old city, and when armed protests broke out in our streets, she started sneaking out with our family camera ...”
“Oh no.”