Page 63 of Fall onto me

A deep purple folder sits inside, and the tremble in my fingers makes me hesitate.

The Keeper orders, “Open it.”

I push my fingers between the slit and flip it open. It’s dark, but the pendulum light above provides enough illumination to see what I’m doing.

“It’s your severance.” He’s speaking to Foster. “Paperwork to show you’re fully absolved from all ties to my organization.”

I nearly laugh.His organization. Why would someone like him want literal paperwork trailing around? A drop of honey for the cops to find the beehive, I can see this going very very badly, which is why we’re going to take his somewhere safe and get rid of it.

“Why do I need this?” Foster finally speaks, through from the seething venom cutting his tongue, I suspect the silence was an attempt to mask his anger.

But this is what TK does, a grand show, and I’m assuming this is the finale.

“You can throw it away if you like, but it’s something physical for you to understand that your work for me is complete. I know, with the television …” His deep laugh slices through us. “That it’s nearly like a video game, but this is something substantial that you can hold.”

“So that’s it?” he asks, triple checking.

A shadow bobs up and down, a nod from TK. “That’s it.”

We back away slowly at first, then turn. I hope in this quiet room no one can hear the erratic thundering of my heart. I want to leave, so fucking badly, I want to leave. When I touch the knob, a sense of serene calm washes over me, but when I twist it, it doesn’t turn.

Foster tries, and then throws himself in front of me, pushing against the door. A low chuckle escapes the television. “I can’t get to you. I’m just a television.” Silence follows his statement, and then the tapping commences. A slow, low sound of his patience to keep us here.

“What do you fucking want?” Foster bucks at the table, causing me to flinch. I don’t want to be locked in here. I don’t want to be here at all. A tear rolls down my cheek, falling against the concrete with a tiny soundless splash.

“There’s another matter we need to discuss.”

I want to stay pinned to this cold door, to wait for the lock to disengage, but as Foster walks back up, I not so fearlessly stand by his side.

Someone must have locked it from the outside when we were distracted, so I listen for it to disengage. “What?”

“I have a request.”

He throws his head back, breathing in deeply. In and out, in and out. “I don’t fucking want it.”

He ignores Foster’s denial. “I have a hit that I need you to fulfill.”

“I won’t kill for you. We already talked about this. Besides, you said I’m done.” He holds up the papers.

TK grunts, sighing out his frustrations. “I have no other choice right now.”

Foster is getting irritated, balling his fist at his sides. “You told me you have men for that.”

“I do.” He pauses, shifting in his seat. “But I don’t have her.”

Attention is positioned my way, and I don’t like it. “What does that matter?” I ask.

Although we can’t see his face, I know that he’s looking at me. “It matters because your father has too many cameras and hasn’t been going on his usual business trips.”

“My father?” I choke.

TK nearly growls, “That’s his job.”

Foster steps in front of me. “She’s not going to do a fucking thing for you. This isn’t her problem.”

“You’re right,” TK replies. “It’s not her problem, it’s yours. But she can help to make it go smoother. You do this and you’re done.”

I’ve never seen my boyfriend lose it, but right now, he is. “You just said I was done! What do you mean?”

---