Page 67 of Fragile Facade
My superiority will always show because that’s who I am, but I did something selfless when I’m notoriously selfish. Sure, I did it to have something to hold over Soren for the rest of his life, but I still did it. Psych told me that I’m manipulative because I have a gnawing need to always get my way, no matter the consequences or morality of it, but when I took the fall to let Soren escape, it didn’t feel manipulative. It felt right, and I’ve never had a good sense of right and wrong.
“I’m still superior,” I tell him through ragged breaths. “You think you’re gonna get something out of me, but all it’ll accomplish is wasted time. Which means I’ll still win, even if you kill me. Might as well get it out of the way now so you can go back to your suburban lifestyle under your Reaper Corp rule. Fucking pathetic, all of you. You know you have no power in this place, right?”
“Power comes from where we wield it,” he says. “And I’m currently wielding it over you, so I do, in fact, have power.”
When I clench my jaw, my mouth sings out in pain. “Good luck holding onto it.” This is all just a new game. One where he’ll try to get me to crack, and I’ll win by resisting him. I might not have my brother’s vault-like mind, but I do have a god complex that refuses to let another man get the better of me. If I can live through torture, it’ll give me one more thing to brag about.
Sounds almost perfect.
* * *
Not so perfect anymore.
I’m down three more teeth, lost a few fingernails, and my lungs gurgle every time I try to use them, full of water that hurts to cough up. My eyes don’t see much anymore, and my bodily functions are no longer under my control. But the worst part is my mind.
It’s gone.
Not because he’s broken it, but because he poisoned it. Somewhere between the loss of the third tooth and the slices all over my chest and back, he placed something on my tongue. The taste of it barely registered through all the blood, but it didn’t take long for my mind to wander off, hallucinating a whole world that scares the fuck out of me. The music is so loud and the lights are so bright that I can’t even escape into my mind, and my eyes are being pried open by a device I already ripped out once and regretted immediately.
“How’s the zoo?” Leigh, the girl from the plane, asks.
Her tutu is black now, but she’s wearing rainbow unicorn ears and a horn, king cobras tattooed all over her tiny body. Her eyes are three times as big as they were the first time I saw her, but she’s still the same curious kid.
“I think I’m one of the animals,” I tell her.
“Which one? A velociraptor?”
This isn’t a dinosaur zoo, but I wish it was. At least a raptor would kill me faster. “An ostrich. Head’s all buried in the sand.”
“Well, pull it out,” Leigh says. “He needs you to be alive when he gets here.”
“Who?”
“Your boyfriend. He wants to hold your hand.” Her giant eyes turn speculative, like she’s listening to something I can’t hear. “And kill you.”
“He’s not coming,” I tell her while something burns behind me. On me? The pain registers, but my mind never rights itself. I think my back is on fire. “He got out.”
Leigh laughs really hard. Almost like Soren laughs when he’s on the brink of death, except her laugh is higher-pitched and twinkly.
“What did he steal?”
I tune that voice out and watch Leigh’s cobra tattoos slither up her arms and shoulders. “Told you I’m goth.”
“Yeah.”
“Who were you working with?”
I wince at the man’s voice, knowing it doesn’t belong in my colourful world with the goth girl.
“He is coming,” she tells me, her voice visual as soundwaves. “And he’s angry. Like that scared kind of angry that makes him look like poison.”
Poison.A thought finally registers, a failsafe I actually put into place. How long has it been since I dropped that gifted vial into the water system? The Harpy has ideas, and she wanted to test them before implementing them in Moros. I smile, clearly remembering Menace slipping me the vial before we boarded the plane to Reaper City. At least I did something right.
I straighten in my… midair. There is no chair anymore. No floor or sky or walls either. Just empty space with soundwaves in colourful echoes and a goth girl covered in tattoos. “I’m the king cobra,” I tell her instead. “My bite can kill.”
“I know,” she says, looking at me like she knows what I did and is gleeful about it. “But be careful. Your hair is pretty, but it’s not king cobra pretty, so they can still chop off your head. Your poisonous bite might kill you instead.”
I frown, not liking that she doesn’t think my hair is as pretty as the cobra’s crown. I’m better looking than a fucking cobra.
