Page 90 of Irreversible

I’m exiting onto the lower level, moving as quickly as possible while trying not to draw undue attention, when an alarm goes off.

Shit. Someone found Roger.

21

Arctic water splashes across my face.

Gasping, I shoot up with a start as cold liquid dribbles down my face and neck, drenching my nightgown. I’m disoriented. Chilled to the bone. I blink icy droplets out of my eyes as I glance up, and a blurry face slowly comes into focus.

An orange plastic bucket dangles from freckled fingers as a man towers over me.

I’m still gasping for breath, choking on water and words. “Wh-what…?”

Just like that, my senses click back on, one by one.

Briny well water coating my tongue. The scent of sweat and body odor. Chattering teeth and puckered skin. Alarms, sirens, footsteps. Men barking orders from the hallways.

The red-haired man.

Dolph.

My instincts kick in and I scramble to my feet, slipping on a puddle and abruptly dropping to my butt. Pain shoots all the way up my spine, my tailbone throbbing.

Dolph moves like lightning and grabs me by the front of my wet gown, yanking me back up. I struggle, my eyes pinging wide when I notice a pistol fisted in his right hand. “No, please, no?—”

He shoves me to the mattress.

I’m still fevering, weak, and frozen as I glance at the wall.

Isaac.

Alarms blare, my heart skipping with each screechy siren.

Did he escape? Is he out?

Will they kill me before he brings back help?

I crawl off my mattress, toward the open door, as a low chuckle rumbles from Dolph. His leg lashes out until a heavy boot connects with my side. More pain slithers through my body like a hot-iron brand, and I roll onto my back, his foot holding me down by the chest. Wriggling and writhing, I grasp at his ankle with both hands, trying to push him off me. I can’t breathe. My ribs burn from the pressure as I helplessly slide against the slick tile.

Another figure crashes through the doorway.

Two figures.

I twist my head, my eyes landing on The Timekeeper.

And Roger.

“Roger!” I shout, still squirming beneath Dolph’s dirty black boot. “Roger, please…”

Roger is shoved into the room, stumbling. Dolph lifts off me, snatching me by the hair and pulling me to my feet. Scalp burning, I try to flee, but his hold is too firm.

The Timekeepertsksfrom the threshold. “Many things grate me, Everly,” he drawls, adjusting the collar of his pink-and-navy-checkered suit. “Morons talking on speaker phone in public places. Chronic tardiness. Crying babies. Incorrect usage of the word ‘seen.’” A slight pause. “But would you like to know what’s at the top of that list?”

I kick at Dolph’s shins, to no avail.

Sneering, The Timekeeper glances at me. “Inconveniences.”

“Please, you don’t have to?—”

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