Page 60 of Love of the Egoist
“Oh, sorry…” Kuon offered the apology. His brain had atrophied from the isolation and wasn’t catching on fast enough.
Could it be that this is my last chance? Maybe I should try… anything is better than sitting and waiting to be sold to a brothel.
He licked his chapped lips, but his tongue was too dry to bring any relief.
Fuck, it is suffocating here….
A ticklish drop of sweat rolled down his temple, he wiped it off as he followed Mio out of the room. His bare feet sank into the think carpet.
The svelte body in front of him moved effortlessly, delicate hands freely flowing around bony hips, cloaking the boy in immense confidence.
Mio came to the staircase, leaned over the rail and scanned the ground floor.
“Three to the left, one to the right. Let’s go!” He grabbed Kuon’s arm and wrapped it around his own neck.
Kuon hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of involving this boy in his business.What if he gets hurt? What if they fire anyway? What if a stray bullet hits Mio?I would never forgive myself.
He hated those who involved innocent people in their criminal actions the most, and now he was one of those bastards.
“Are you truly an idiot? We don’t have time! Hurry up!” the boy hissed, and dug his fingers into Kuon’s palm, forcing him to put the gun to his temple. The scent of fresh bread hit Kuon’s face and nausea spiraled up his stomach.
Blood pulsated in Kuon’s head, stripping him of the last abilities to think rationally. Drops of sweat blurred his vision. He shivered. A draft, coming from the ground floor, bit into his sweaty skin.
Kuon shook his head, trying to clear his mind. That didn’t help much; his thoughts were heavy and lazy. They crawled somewhere in the pit of his consciousness where he couldn’t reach and fish even one out.
Mio yanked him along, descending the stairs.
Kuon inhaled, filling his lungs to full capacity.
Come on, just do it. Too late to turn back.
Burgundy carpet, covering the stairs, caught his attention for a second. This shade of red resembled dried blood too much. Maybe Yugo had chosen it for this reason, actual blood wouldn’t be seen on it.
Going down one step at a time, Kuon tried his best not to bring the boy any discomfort.
“Mio!” Greg exclaimed, alarm ringing in his voice. Veins popped out on his forehead and his neck, his black jacket strained on his shoulders. He drew a gun and pointed the black eye of a muzzle at Kuon’s head.
Adrenaline spun through Kuon, twisting his face in a crazy smile. His temples pulsed as he tried to adjust the gun in his sweaty palm. Putting his finger on the trigger, he pressed the thin body closer to his own.
“Use two fingers to place your weapons on the floor and put your back to the wall. Any unnecessary movement and the boy dies,” he said in a calm, confident voice. The voice he’d used so many times to arrest criminals.
Mio’s features sharpened, his eyes wide, shooting pleading looks in every direction. A whimper escaped his mouth and shaking palms covered his quivering lips asreal fuckingtears flowed down his pale cheeks.
Fuck me, this boy is a genius. I’d give him an Oscar.Kuon, admiring the act, watched the boy’s flowing expressions from the corner of his eye.
“Greg, I’m scared!” Mio squeaked; his body shook when he squeezed more tears out of his shiny eyes.
“Everything will be fine, Mio,” Greg tried to reassure him, even thrust a strained smile on his brutish face. Holding his hands visible, he put the gun down. “Calm down, do everything Kuon says, and you will be okay, I promise.”
Suppressed laughter ran through Mio’s body, vibrating in Kuon’s palm, but it didn’t affect the boy’s features. He swallowed and nodded; his eyes shining with trust.
“You too! Guns on the floor, one by one! You start,” Kuon said, giving the order to the closest man with his chin.
The man stepped forward, holding the gun muzzle up, and his other hand high in the air. His bulging forehead and too prominent cheekbones drowned his deep eyes in shadows. Sharp lines around his mouth and his eyes—too deep for his middle age—suggested a hard life and a savage character.
“Easy,” the man said; his voice surprisingly soft, velvet. Pointing the muzzle at the window, he bent down and put the gun on the floor. Straightening up he directed the weapon toward Kuon with his foot.
Kuon gulped past the lump in his throat, watching the other two men put their weapons on the floor, then glanced out the window. A black ORV parked in the yard.
