Chapter Six
Deogal
The room empties, and they leave me in their version of silence.
The door seals with a heavy mechanical thud. Footsteps fade. Voices disappear down the corridor one by one until there’s nothing left but fluorescent hum and the stale heat trapped inside the room.
I stay exactly where they put me. The restraints cut deep into my wrists, but I don’t test them. There’s no point. Panic belongs to people who still believe they’re trapped.
My head stays lowered. I listen instead to the tiny catch in her breathing every time someone says my name. The careful inhale afterwards. Pushed back down like she’s trying to keep her own body from embarrassing her.
She’s frightened already, but it hasn’t spread far enough yet.
I can tell by how long her attention lingers. Most people avoid looking too closely at things that make them uncomfortable. Their eyes slide away instinctively, searching for exits, distractions, anything softer to land on.
Hers don’t.
She keeps watching like there are hooks in her eyes.
My shadow lifts his head just slightly for a better look.
She’s a pretty little thing.
Red hair dragged back too tightly, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat every time she swallows.
I imagine forcing my thumb there just to feel it happen beneath my skin.
Her spine is straight enough to ache. Fingers locked around that notebook in her lap so hard I can almost imagine the paper crumpling beneath her grip.
It’s almost endearing. All that control wrapped around a body already betraying her.
Her throat moves suddenly, swallowing hard, as she reaches for the pen. She presses the nib to the page like there is something to document.
I almost smile.
She wants to understand me.
She reeks of curiosity, thick and pathetic. It leaks out of her in every glance that lingers too long.
Girl’s like her always do this. They dig through rot for something human beneath cruelty. Something broken enough to pity. Something they can press their soft little fingers around and call healing.
They never understand that cruelty doesn’t stop being cruelty just because it has a reason.
A monster can explain itself perfectly and still tear your throat open.
And me?
I can lie beautifully.
That’s what’s going to make this so fucking easy.