Page 35 of The Mourning Throne
Ollie’s head jerked over.
“I—I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, rough with hours of crying. “I—I didn’t… did I wake you up? I’m sorry. I’m really,reallysorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Lex took two steps inside. He shut the door behind him, and Ollieflinched. Hard.
“Chill, man,” Lex said, half-laughing. “We’re notreallybad people.”
Ollie’s eyebrows scrunched, like he wasn’t sure if that was meant to be funny.
Lex sat on the bed. He bounced, testing the springs.
The mattress was… fine. Not as good as the other one. Not as soft.
“How do you feel?” he asked after another minute. “Sore, probably. Right?”
Ollie nodded once.
“You want water? Pop?”
Ollie’s eyes moved away from him, down to his feet.
Seriously? It was a yes or no fucking question.
Nothing made a person thirstier than a beating. Unless it was being forced to drink,thenbeat.That took the goddamn cake.
The old-ass grandfather clock ticked too loud from the other room.
Ollie shifted closer to the corner, knees pulled to his chest.
“Do you know what pisses me off?” Lex asked, more to the room than Ollie. “When people ignore you. You ever do that, Ollie? Ignore someone because you’re justreallyfucking uncomfortable?”
Ollie looked back to him, eyes huge. “N—no, I—”
“No. You wouldn’t. You’re too nice for that. Right? You’re tryingreally hardto be good. Right?”
More nodding. Faster now.
Lex smiled. “That’s what I thought.”
He leaned back on his hands, one leg bouncing over the other.
There was too much energy running through him, and zero outlet.
That’swhat sounded fun.
His smile widened into a grin.
“You probably don’t remember most of tonight, do you?” he asked. “I mean—besides the club.Maybesome of the beginning. People tend to block the scary stuff out. Our brains try to keep us safe, even when our bodies aren’t.”
Ollie didn’t answer. His throat bobbed. His eyes dropped again.
Lex reached into the pocket of his sleep pants, pulling his phone free. “You’re in luck! I recorded every second.”
Ollie froze.
“You don’t—” Lex paused. For the drama. Blinking furiously. “You don’t remember me recording it? Do you remember me being in there with youat all?”
Not a damn sound.
