Page 155 of Chemistry: The Chemist

Sorry, Rather.

Sorry, Rome.

Sorry, Aden.

Sorry, Mother.

Sorry, Art.

Sorry, Bradford.

Sorry, Macy.

Sorry, Jack.

Sorry… sorry, Dad.

“Johanson!” With glee, Bradford chanted. “You don’t know how fucking proud we are of you, partner!”

Feeling his arms around me had me stumped. I opened my eyes, and it was his face I saw instead of the man responsible for Chemistry’s presence on Earth. I scanned the hallway, eyes traveling in every direction possible. It wasn’t until I followed Bradford’s trail that I noticed the sleek, unbothered figure. With one hand in the air, his index and middle fingers pointed in my direction, and his thumb upright, he winked.

Fuck.

SEVENTEEN

Four months after the raid…

One hundred one.

One hundred two.

One hundred three.

One hundred four.

Footsteps crept toward my cell. Mine was the only one on the unit of the maximum security facility. It was made annoyingly clear they were headed in my direction. Interaction with the low lives who thrived on the small taste of authority made my balls itch. In their real lives, they were bitches.

Suckers.

Less than.

Replaceable.

Not too many would suffer when they came up missing because each and every one of them would with time. To keep from adding additional time to my pending sentence, I kept my hands to myself. But, it was a struggle.

Restrict his airways. Silence him once and for all.

Confinement sharpened the voices in my head. They were louder. Bolder. More demanding. The guard appeared, pulling at his collar with one hand and swiping his baton on the bars with the other. I looked up momentarily, eyes locking on his neck.

Snap it.

“Childers.”

One hundred five.

One hundred six.

One hundred seven.

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