Page 220 of Irreversible

He’s…dancing.

I watch in horror, his suit shimmering with opulence and madness—a riot of deep purples and bright blues, a silver cravat tied loosely around his neck. His tailored jacket, sleek and metallic, glimmers with every exaggerated movement like a broken shard of glass.

Water splashes as he prances through the puddles.

I move back.

My eyes scour the platform, desperate for something, anything. I spot the discarded violet umbrella at the end of the runway. Heart pounding, I swivel, racing to snatch it up, gripping the pointed end toward him as I turn to face him head-on.

He’s lessened the gap between us, standing in the center of the runway, a few feet away. His eyes flick to the prop. “Oh, Everly. Are you planning to beat me to death with yourumbrella?” A bark of laughter. “I suppose anything can be a weapon if you’re creative.”

“Stay away from me.” The umbrella shakes in my grip.

Another step.

Then another.

If I move any farther backward, I’ll fall.

“This rain…” he drawls, holding out a flat palm and watching as water fills his hand. “It’s a nice touch, isn’t it? Must be murder on your hair.”

“Don’t you dare?—”

Just like that, he’s on me.

I scream.

His gloved fist hooks a handful of my hair, tangling and tugging, my knees buckling. Pain lacerates down my body, scalp to toes, until my fingers unclench the umbrella handle, and he gently plucks it from my grip.

Humming with appreciation, he twirls it around while droplets go flying. “Another nice touch,” he says. “The little details really do make the show.”

“Help me!” I screech, squirming in his grip. “Somebody help!”

“Oh, shush. You can scream all you want when we’re out on the water.”

I go still, terror coursing through me. “What do you?—”

“Hey, boss! Is this your guy?” Commotion rustles from backstage before two figures appear, barreling through the curtain. “Found him poking around back here.”

It takes a moment for recognition to seize me.

Navy dress suit. Polka-dotted tie. Black hair.

Loafers.

My heart sinks to the floor.

“Jasper…” Panic curls around me as I watch Jasper struggle in the henchman’s grasp.

The Timekeeper growls with disapproval. “No, you idiot, that is notmy guy.” His grip on my hair tightens as he gives me a shake. “It’s so difficult to find decent help these days, isn’t it?”

Oh, my God.

“Jasper!”

Jasper kicks and flails against the beast of a man, a bruise dappling his cheek, blood dribbling from a split lip. “Everly!”

“Don’t hurt him,” I beg. “He has nothing to do with this.”

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