Page 103 of Prohibited

It chilled him.

“Stanley, this– It’s not– We weren’t–” he stammered, though none of his words discouraged Stanley from taking one step forward and then another. He moved deliberately, slowly. A predator carefully stalking his prey.

He took one more drag on his cigarette and then he dropped it onto the rug, grinding it into the wool with his black leather boot.

“Walter, please,” Evelyn said again, trying to move past Roberts, but he pushed her back again.

“Will you please–” she started to snap at him, but Walter lunged forward and caught him by the tie and drew him close with a speed that astonished him.

“I think you’ve known me long enough, Roberts, to know exactly what I’m going to do to you now,” Stanley said slowly. Coldly.

“I’ll scream,” Evelyn said somewhere nearby. “Release him now, or I’ll–”

“You’ve already earned yourself a punishment that you will not enjoy, Evelyn,” Stanley said, not taking his eyes off of Roberts’ face. “Don’t earn yourself another one.”

“Walter, he hasn’t done anything, I was the one who–” She made the mistake of grabbing onto his arm.

Stanley flicked her off like a fly, sending her stumbling back until she fell onto the ground.

Without a pause, the same hand shot under his coat. Roberts heard the whisper of metal against leather. He barely caught a glint of steel before he felt like he’d been hit with a hammer just below his sternum. A strange, cold sensation radiated up into his chest and stole the breath from his lungs.

Distantly, he realized Evie had screamed, a short, sharp sound that rang in the back of his mind like a shrill whistle.

He took a shuddering breath, staring at Stanley, so close they could have kissed.

“What did you fucking do?” Roberts whispered. His breaths started to come short and fast and he couldn’t stop them, no matter how hard he tried to take a deep breath. “What did you fucking do to me?”

“I did you a favor,” Stanley said without emotion. And then he pulled the knife out of Roberts’ abdomen.

Roberts stumbled back, away from him, staring down at the opening Stanley had made in his body. Blood was starting to stain his coat, black and jammy against the dark wool of his jacket. He pressed his hand against the hole that had been sliced in him, trying to keep the blood inside. It spurted out around his hands, staining them with his life. Inside of his chest, his heart raced, faster and faster until he was breathless.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck.”

Distantly, he could hear a commotion behind him, but he paid no mind. He turned slowly and sank down into his chair. It slowly dawned on him that he was alone in his office now.

Stanley and Evelyn were gone.

And he, Roberts, was left alone to die.

Chapter thirty-nine

Roberts

He needed to get up. To move. To call for help. But his breaths were coming so fast, so shallow, that he couldn’t gather enough of them to yell. The cold in his upper abdomen was becoming pain.

No, not pain.

Agony. An agony so intense that he couldn’t help but groan every time he let his breath out.

Blood coated his hands, slicking them with dark crimson. Soaked his coat. The sleeves of his coat. The crotch and the legs of his pants, like he’d pissed himself.

Something vital was leaving him along with his blood and he was helpless to stop it.

He needed to get up. To move. But his body seemed incapable of listening to his command. It was growing colder by the moment.

The hands pressed to his stomach–were those his hands?--were completely covered in blood, as if he had dipped them into a bucket.

“Jesus,” he gasped between rapid breaths.

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