Page 66 of Ethereally Tainted

“What am I doing here?”

A smile spreads across his lips, showing his teeth that don’t look fresh. It takes him a moment or so before he responds to me, his gaze is fixed on me, making me feel uneasy.

“Just a regular check-up session.”

My eyebrows cock up in anticipation of a better explanation as that didn’t provide any at all. However, he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he takes out the portfolio he put on the floor earlier, and a bunch of paper appears in his hands.

“So tell me, how are you?” Mr. Ricci insists, and I let out a sigh loud enough for him to hear.

“I am really good,” I tell him, words draped with sarcasm and annoyance.

He studies the papers in his hand for a while before looking up at me. “And the meds, how do they work?”

Without answering, I nod my head. I don’t take my meds, but that is nothing he needs to know. During the beginning of my time here, I was given medication, however, it made me completely disassociated from my own identity. I wasn’t myself, I felt like I was inhabiting a body that wasn’t my own, and it scared me, so I decided to stop taking the medication secretly.

“In about a week, you will transfer to the new program, so I have a few questions I need to ask.”

Immediately the alarm bells go off in my head because if this had been a regular interview with questions, he could have taken this up in his office, not in some cold basement room.

“How do you consider your behavior to have been?”

He looks at me with his ebony brown eyes that almost darken as he speaks, and his voice lingers with evilness.

“Good.”

I won’t give him any more explanation, and he knows how I usually am, never one to reply to the full extent of a question. He should be used to this right now and know not to push me further.

“This program is a lifetime opportunity for you. It will be perfect.”

It sounds like he’s trying to lure me in with his words, attempting to convince me that I need to get there, and I know there’s no other choice. Not that I would want to skip it.

There is a rustling of the papers in his hand before he places one of them on the table and slides it to me. My breath catches in my throat, and I look at him with a deadened look.

“Is this a fucking joke?” I seethe, clenching my fists, but my skin strains against the cuffs.

“What do you see?” He completely ignores me, holding one finger on the paper as if scared it will blow away with the wind.

“What the fuck?”

The words fly out of my mouth, the shock evident in my expression, which he notices because his lips are lifted in an ugly smile.

“What do you see?” He repeats himself, more stern than before, and my heart is pounding loudly in my ears.

My vision blurs, the room spins as I gaze at the sight in front of me. It’s a picture of a crime scene. I know this car all too well, the black paint on its sides is scratched from all the times I’ve crashed into things. I never had the money to learn how to drive, and I could only afford that car by selling drugs. The car became our only home when living on the streets became too much. I stare at the picture in horror, feeling every blood cell in my body take a beating from the anger and fear that are a dangerous mix together. It’s a picture with so much blood in it. Too much red. Sitting in the front seat are two people I remember all too well, the ones who were supposed to be responsible for me, yet they left me when I was only a small, helpless child.

Looking upward and meeting Mr. Ricci’s gaze, I see amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“What do you see?”

“A crime scene,” I reply, feeling my emotions die.

It’s a photo of my dead parents, right after I found my little brother with a knife in his hands and before the cops came. How the hell does Mr. Ricci have access to these? Only the cops should have these stored away.

“Good, and whose crime?” He prompts, and I want to fucking wipe that smirk off his face.

“Mine.”

My throat is dry, but it only gets worse with the following picture he shows me. A body in a basement, a familiar guy with wide pupils as he stares ahead, no life behind those dull eyes. At this exact moment, a chill runs through my veins as I recognize that this should remain secret and not be accessible to anyone. Despite the atrocious nature of the crime, the police never conducted an investigation as they simply don’t care about criminals.

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