Page 93 of The Rat

“This was a goodopportunity. I washelping you.”

“No, you weren’t. I thought the hardest thingwould be the physical side, being hurt, stabbed, but that was abreeze compared to the emotional side of being here. The constantbetrayal, the guilt, the self-loathing, the self-hatred. You know …I haven’t looked in the mirror for weeks. I hate what Isee.”

“You’re still in shock. Whenyou’ve had some time to process, you’ll realize it was all worth it. I’ll helpyou.”

“I didn’t focus on the endresult, or whether it was worthit. I thought of Erica, despite whatevergoes on in here, whatever I have to do, the bad person I become,she’d always look at me the same. She’d always be there, shewouldn’t judge me for any of this, and like that … she’s gone. Iwant to see her.”

Hamish bit his lip. “I’m sure we canarrange that, but, Rory, I know you’re hurting, but she would’vebeen proud of you, just like your dad would’ve been.”

“I want these cuffs off mywrists.”

Hamish gestured to the guardoutside the window, and he came insidethe room.

“Canyou get these cuffs offhim?”

“I’m not sure that’s a goodidea.”

“Now, please,” Hamish saidfirmly.

The guard sighed, then reachedfor Rory’s hands. As soon as the cuffs were removed, Rory rubbedthe skin they’d been pressing on, and marveled at the indents.

“Better?” Hamishasked.

“Not quite.”

Rory sprung over the table, andpunched Hamish in the face. He was knocked to the floor and gruntedas he clutched his nose. Rory didn’t fight the guard grappling withhim, he held up his hands for the cuffs, and allowed himself to be dragged out ofthe room.

ChapterSeventeen

Rory loved watching horrormovies as a kid. He loved bragging at school about seeing thelatest one. They thought he wasn’t scared, had nerves of steel. Theboys were impressed and the girls thought he was brave.

He didn’t tell them the firsttime he watched the movies he had all the lights on. He had thecontroller in his hand and pressed pause when he jumped out of hisskin. He didn’t tell them that Erica sat next to him,pretending toread, but really keeping an eye on him. Horror movies wereexciting, a shot of fear in the safety of your own home. You couldturn them off, or laugh at the poor quality, or the god-awfulacting, or grab your sister’s hand when you needed to.

When he stepped into the morgue at thehospital, and tracked his eyes along all the metal doors, herealized that real fear wasn’t exciting, it wasn’t a shot ofadrenaline that left him breathless. It wasn’t something he couldstop and push to the back of his mind. It was never going to leavehim.

“I’ll give you a fewmoments,”Morris whispered.

Hamish hadn’t come with him. Hewas probably elsewhere in the hospital getting his nose fixed. Rorytook another step inside, but refused to look at the trolley in the middleof the room. He wrinkled his nose, noted the room smelled clean,fresh, not giving away its purpose at all. The walls were paintedwhite and the metal doors were polished to a mirrorshine.

The morguedidn’t fillhim with fear, but the trolley did. There was no creepy groaning,or shadows, or wolves howling, or people screaming.

This horror was real, and Rory took adeep breath before finally looking.

When their dad died, they stoodside by side, hands linked. Rory’s fingers twitched, needing thatconnection, but no one was there to hold him.

True horror wasn’t screaming,bloodshed, and fear. It was silence, and no movement. It was seeingsomeone you loved, there in front of you, but gone. It was holdingyour breathto hear someone else’s, and hearing nothing. Or pressing yourfingers to their wrist for a pulse and nothing tapping back. It wastouching someone and expecting their warmth, but shivering at thecold.

Rory held Erica’s hand andwatched, expecting it to curl round his like it had when they were kids.When the movie got too much, and he reached for her, and shereached back.

Her hand was cold, and when Rorytook a step closer, then lay a kiss to her forehead, she felt evencolder. He backed away fast and slipped down the wall.

****

At some point someone wheeled Erica away,put her back behind the mirrored door. Rory didn’t look up, he satwith his back to the wall, picking his nails down to the hilt. Hethought he’d cry, or scream, and a part of him was ashamed hehadn’t. The overwhelming emotion was emptiness, a huge endlesscavern in his chest where his grief-poisoned heart hadfallen.

“Rory…”Morris whispered.

“What?”

---