Page 50 of Irreversible

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Isaac?

I step away from the wall, frowning.

Did I hear that right?

Isaac.

The notion of an alias brings with it an assortment of new questions. Who is he? Why would he lie about his name? Is he undercover? Why is hereallyhere?

Is he a part of this?

No.

That’s impossible. He’s trapped, chained, a prisoner like me. Like all of us.

I go silent, waiting to hear it again, but The Timekeeper only says it once.

Maybe I misheard.

My mind is still racing when I flinch in place, and my attention whips right.

3, 2, 4…8.

I think the last number is eight.

Four pings, and then?—

“No—” I lurch backward and scream just as the door whooshes open. My unstable feet carry me toward the far wall,until my spine is flush against it.Silly.I have nowhere to go, except for wherever he takes me—and he’s going to take me. “Don’t touch me!”

“Testy today.” Marching forward, The Timekeeper fiddles with the cufflink of his suit, tailored and fitted with indulgent royal-purple satin. He’s dressed to the nines, costumed more for an eccentric social function, instead of an execution. “It’s too early for solicitations. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

I try to dodge him.

Fail.

He snatches me by the bicep and hauls me away from the wall, dragging me toward the open door. My heart hammers between my ribs, a heavy bass drum. Twisting and squirming, I do everything I can to pry myself from his grip, desperate for escape. “No!” He squeezes tighter, bruising my arm. “Get your hands off me!”

Nick—Isaac?—pounds on the wall beside me. “You’re a fucking coward.” He’s pissed-off, rattled, unlike the typically calm and controlled man I’ve come to know. “Pathetic. Preying on someone helpless because you’re weak. It’smeyou want, you impotentbastard.”

The Timekeeper says nothing and continues to drag me toward the doorway, while I trip over loose books.

I dig my heels into the tile, skin burning. Body writhing. Limbs flailing.

Fruitless.

I’m going to die today.

Using his opposite hand, he fists me by the hair for better leverage.

My lungs squeeze, scalp stings, and my stomach drops to the sterile floor. I scream. “Nick!” There’s nothing Nick can do. Self-preservation and instinct take over, trumping logic and sound reason. “No, stop, please!Nick!”

Nick’s pounding tapers off with a final hardsmack. “Fine! Take her. I don’t care. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

Something inside of me withers. Wilts.

What the hell?

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