Chapter Seven
Title: You've Had Two Years
A hand against wood has never sounded so annoyingly unwelcome.
And trust me, people have knocked on the doors of many potentially-awkward situations in my life. Potentially-criminal, some of them.
I release George's hand and open the door a crack. A crack wide enough for me to slip through.
I shut the door behind me and cover the door handle with my body.
There’s no way they’re getting in there.
“How you’ve demeaned yourself Mitchell. Playing guard dog now?”
I don’t answer.
“Ahh, don’t get all stroppy now Mitchell. I just came to offer my condolences.”
“He’s not dead.”
Herrick smiles. Seth gives a pale imitation. The other guard does nothing.
“Oh, no. But he’s as good as. Didn’t you ever wonder why your little puppy was never hurt by us?”
“No, because he was.”
“He wasn’t. Seth and the guys were just, playing around, shall we say? He never came close to death like the others.”
“You call three hospital admissions playing around?” I speak through clenched teeth. It sounds like a growl.
“No damage to the main organs. Most curs we know of are dead within the month. You know that.”
I do growl now.
“Your boy’s had two years.”
“So? You think by not killing him you can get me back?”
Herrick smiles. “Yes.” He moves forward a little. “We want to leave you with the knowledge that, we warned you. It’ll all end in tears. We want to leave you with the knowledge that it wasn’t us who killed him.”
Seth smiles harder at me. I growl at him.
“See you Mitchell.”
It’s only when I reach for the door handle I realise my hands are shaking.
I whip my hand back as though I’d been burnt.
I use the momentum to turn around and sink back onto the floor, leaning against the door, my face pressed into my knees, my arms wrapped around me.
It’s the first time Herrick’s ever made me cry.
Next Part
A hand against wood has never sounded so annoyingly unwelcome.
And trust me, people have knocked on the doors of many potentially-awkward situations in my life. Potentially-criminal, some of them.
I release George's hand and open the door a crack. A crack wide enough for me to slip through.
I shut the door behind me and cover the door handle with my body.
There’s no way they’re getting in there.
“How you’ve demeaned yourself Mitchell. Playing guard dog now?”
I don’t answer.
“Ahh, don’t get all stroppy now Mitchell. I just came to offer my condolences.”
“He’s not dead.”
Herrick smiles. Seth gives a pale imitation. The other guard does nothing.
“Oh, no. But he’s as good as. Didn’t you ever wonder why your little puppy was never hurt by us?”
“No, because he was.”
“He wasn’t. Seth and the guys were just, playing around, shall we say? He never came close to death like the others.”
“You call three hospital admissions playing around?” I speak through clenched teeth. It sounds like a growl.
“No damage to the main organs. Most curs we know of are dead within the month. You know that.”
I do growl now.
“Your boy’s had two years.”
“So? You think by not killing him you can get me back?”
Herrick smiles. “Yes.” He moves forward a little. “We want to leave you with the knowledge that, we warned you. It’ll all end in tears. We want to leave you with the knowledge that it wasn’t us who killed him.”
Seth smiles harder at me. I growl at him.
“See you Mitchell.”
It’s only when I reach for the door handle I realise my hands are shaking.
I whip my hand back as though I’d been burnt.
I use the momentum to turn around and sink back onto the floor, leaning against the door, my face pressed into my knees, my arms wrapped around me.
It’s the first time Herrick’s ever made me cry.
Next Part