Page 11 of Antihero
Paige works here. She can get to any part of the asylum. I was out there only thanks to her key. She fits the profile I’d assumed about the Wraith; a woman, and not an inherently violent one. But why?
She was vague about her past, about what brought her here, but wasn’t I? I consider the reasons I might be vague, and soon recognise that’s hardly a commendation for her.
That’s when another possibility hits me, drawing my back straight and tense.
Could she know who I really am? Could that be why she wants me close? Why she’s been the leader between us, always encouraging that next date?
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I close my eyes, leaning my head into my hands with a strained breath.
It explains how she could be the Paige I’ve been eating ice cream with, and also the murderous Wraith. She’s figured out who I truly am, and is hoping that romancing me will save her from what Needler is known for.
Paige is the Wraith.
***
“You had a date last week.”
Charlotte waits for me to respond. Of course she knows about that. The extended curfew request I put in had to get back to her.
“Is that helping you get over your breakup?” The breakup she knows I fabricated.
I mean, I didn’t entirely fabricate it. I’m just leaving details out. Like that she was a cop. Or that I turned myself in to her, to then be grilled about my psychopath sister. That she let me escape in the end. Or that I’m not sure ‘breakup’ is the right word because I’m not sure we were ever together. What was it between us? Even I’m not sure. Two people suffering in similar ways. I respected her, she had courage enough for all the city, and she needed to feel alive while I needed to feel human.
“Yeah, why not, I suppose,” is all I say.
“Nice girl?”
My throat feels tight as I think of Paige. “I don’t know if it’s going to work out.”
“Too different?”
I clench my teeth against a wry laugh and answer, “Or too similar?”
“Doesn’t necessarily mean it won’t work.”
I shift in my seat, not sure how to end this line of questioning as soon as possible. My goal this past week has been not to see, hear, or think about Paige. The first two are achievable enough. The third is a work in progress. “I don’t think she actually likes me.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Well, because…” I trail off, spreading my hands.Who could?Is the question on my lips, but that would be a whole other rabbit hole. “She only wants something from me. That’s all.”
“Mm-hm. Maybe you’re assuming she can’t like you for the right reasons, because it savesyouhaving to likeherfor the right reasons?”
“I don’t think that’s it.”
“John,” Charlotte sighs, crossing her hands over her notebook—in that way that says she’s about to force me to hear something I’m not keen on. “You’re punishing yourself.” I frown, since my real struggle right now is whether it’s my responsibility to punish the Wraith. She goes on, “You think you don’t deserve happiness, and certainly not love. But do you truly believe that no one can evenlikeyou?”
My jaw works. I find I can’t meet her eye. These damned sessions. Charlotte seems to sense that I’m pretty close to shutting up for the rest of the hour. She sighs through her nose, a little like she’s disappointed, and suggests, “Perhaps this is just a rebound?”
I think of Declan. At least one rebound—speaking of which. “That security guard… Declan. I haven’t seen him for a while.Was he fired?” It’s neither a good nor a bad idea to be the first to bring up someone you’ve murdered. The trick is not to speak about them over and over in the past tense. Otherwise, it doesn’t signify innocence or guilt. But there are still things I want to know.
Charlotte’s eyes narrow on me. “Why would you assume he was fired?”
I shrug. “I saw him being inappropriate, on occasion. He seems to make Beth uncomfortable. I thought something might’ve been done about it.”
Now Charlotte looks a little uncomfortable. She taps her polished but unpainted nails against her open notebook. “Yes, I’d heard about that.”
“Why wasn’t anything done sooner?”
