Page 19 of Beautiful Prey

“Oh, sorry, that’s one of the games, but it’s such a stellar addition I count it in the original franchise.”

“Interesting.”

“I watched my” —I almost said brother but quickly caught myself—“friend play it once. I didn’t play video games much myself.”

“I never have.”

“Really, not even as a child?”

I regretted it as soon as I said it, seeing his eyes darken.

“No,” he said quietly. “I didn’t get to…enjoy things as a child.”

Since I had already struck a chord, I decided to proceed with caution. “Your foster parents, they didn’t let you play with friends or anything?”

He tilted his head a little, letting that ghost whisper in his ear. “I didn’t have any. I just had—”

I had a feeling he was going to say his sister. But I didn’t dare mention that. “I’m sorry you didn’t have that chance,” I said sincerely.

Emery didn’t say a word for a long moment, and I chose to let him decide if he wanted to as we sat in silence and I played out the rest of the game for him.

“I wasn’t allowed out,” he said after a time.

I stilled, my hand on a chip. I gazed at him with shocked sadness. “Not at all?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes, I was placed in a room with a small window high above that I couldn’t reach. But that was only for a short while. My permanent room didn’t have a window. Just a vent that blew air.” He shifted in his seat, his eyes drifting down to the board. “No TV, no games, no toys. Just a magazine or two. Maybe a marker if I could steal one. Sometimes, those were all ripped from me too. So I just had the little mites and spiders to watch in my room.”

My throat tightened. “I’m sorry they did that to you. Was your…sister there too?”

“She was in the room beside mine. She had it the same as me. We communicated through the walls but we had to be quiet or we’d be punished.”

Such an abuse of a child was disgusting. I imagined that drugged up man coming home from his liquor store and his wife cooking and cleaning, neither caring about Emery and his sister being locked away. And for what? “What if you got sick?” I asked. “They didn't even take you out to see a doctor?”

His gaze was so sharp and cold, my blood chilled.

“He was my doctor,” he said icily.

That can’t be. The man who took him in was no doctor. “Do you mean like…he examined you thinking he knew how to diagnose you?”

“He knew,” Emery whispered. “He had every tool and machine at his disposal.”

“So he was actually a medical professional, not just pretending.”

Emery closed his eyes, and I could see he was on the verge of losing himself again.

“Hey.” I placed my hand gently on the table. “It’s okay.”

“He said I was sick…always so sick.” He bowed his head. “But he made me sick…Still, he had to make me better again. Had to fix what he’d done. So he gave me candy and forced me to eat them all. But they always made me so sick. So…sick.” His body trembled. “Nina. Nina got sick too. And she cried all night, pleading to make her belly stop hurting. Make the pain go away. Make the awful monsters stop coming.”

“Emery.” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice.

Without warning, Emery shot downward and hit the side of his head across the table with a loud crack, splintering one sideof his mask. I leaped up and dragged the table away from him before he could do it again. “Emery!”

Blood streamed down the side of his head, along his ear. He blinked at me, shocked as well.

Out of some crazy impulse, I took a couple steps toward him and reached out as if thinking to touch the side of his head and examine the wound. Then I drew back, realizing my mistake. Emery noticed, blinking away his disappointment.

“Is it bad?” he asked.

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