Page 64 of Chasing Never
“You’re a vile little coward,” I say, spitting in his face.
The spit dribbles on his cheek, mixing with his sweat as his face reddens with heat and the fact that I’m cutting off his airway.
And then I glimpse it—the fear. It peeks through his glazed-over eyes, rolls off in beads of sweat over his forehead. He struggles in my arms, but half-heartedly, knowing the pain that will come if I drop him now.
“Please,” he rasps as I loosen my fist just barely.
“Why would that word mean anything to me coming from your mouth?” I ask.
Something changes in his face. Resignation overcomes it. “I suppose you’re right. You never were able to curb that violence within you, despite what your poor mother wanted for you. I would ask what she would think of you now, but I imagine she’s long gone, isn’t she? Probably for the best, that she never got to see what became of her son.”
His words are barbs, but I’m prepared for them. Have dreamt of the warden’s espousing abuse more times than I can count. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before in the form of his voice echoing from the dark recesses of my own mind.
I yank him upward, then slam him back down in his chair. Relief washes over his face, and it’s almost amusing. He thinks I’m being merciful.
“No thank you?” I ask with a smirk.
The warden has the audacity to look annoyed. “Thank you,” he says, rather resentfully.
I laugh, and again, unease dampens his expression.
“You’re right, you know. I was too much of a coward to face you when I should have. But, you see, that is exactly why I won’t be killing you today. Your punishment has been so delayed, you’ve grown haughty.” I glance around the ornate office. “Comfortable. Not the type of life I want for you as you near the end. You made me suffer. For seven years. And while I doubt you have seven years left in that frail body of yours, I imagine you have a few.
“So know this: I will come back for you. And when I do, I will not grant you the mercy of a swift death. I will lock you up in a cellar and hack you to pieces, little by little. I have several healers at my disposal who know just what will take a life and what will simply maim. And then, after weeks or months or however long I see fit, I’ll allow you death. I’ll make it a good one, too. How many pieces of flaming coal do you think you can swallow, warden, before you burn and bleed out from the inside?”
Droplets form at the edges of the warden’s beady eyes as he trembles at my touch. “Please, Nolan, boy. What do you want?”
The laugh that exudes from my chest is dry. “It’s fairly simple, really. I want for you never to have touched me.”
The warden’s face falls, and his eyes go wide. “Surely there’s something. You’re grown now. It was so long ago.”
“So long ago?” I cock my head at the man, marveling at his inability to understand. “You truly don’t comprehend what you did to me, do you? What you did to all of us boys?”
“It was a long time ago,” he repeats again, almost in a whisper.
“No,” I say. “No, I’m afraid it wasn’t.”
When I shove him back into his chair and pace toward the door, I let my hand linger on the lock. “Enjoy the last of your time, warden. I look forward to seeing you again.”
I go to turn the knob, but it twists before I can get to it. In shuffles the maid, her eyes going wide when she sees the disheveled state of the office and warden. Still, she knows better than to challenge me.
“Your cargo, sir,” she says, voice potent with resentment, at which point a child, a boy of about four, peeks out from behind her leg.
My heart turns to lead. “Actually, on second thought,” I say, “there’s one last thing I’d like to discuss with your master.”
My hand trembles on the knob as I lock myself in with the warden.
CHAPTER 28
WENDY
On the third day since Nolan left, Charlie finds me in our room lying on my back and staring at the ceiling.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.
“Are you referring to the fact that my husband is gone? That I’ve sealed his ruinous fate? Or that I’m lying on my back, half-dressed, on the floor?”
“Mostly the last one,” says Charlie, grimacing down at the mess that is me.
