?"
I put on a fake smile. "Kate, how nice to see you! You look rested."
"Never felt better," she said, flopping her arms and smacking her hips--they were mostly bare; a tight red cocktail dress at seven in the morning. "You look tired, Melissa. Are you getting enough sleep? I'd be sleeping all the time if I were you." She stepped past me and peeked into the room, then looked back to me with a mischievous grin. "Or playing with Flora. Can I come in?"
I stepped aside and let her enter, closing the door behind us.
My eyes went immediately to the glass of water on the table. It sat there like a landmine, as did Flora. Not a single person in this building would fail to immediately identify Flora's wound for what it was.
Especially not Kate.
"Looks a little shabby in here," she said.
"I thought I wasn't allowed contact with anyone."
She turned and smiled. "You know me. I always get what I want." Then she began to wander the room, inspecting for cleanliness, noting changes, like when she stopped at the busted stereo system and said, "You should see the sound system Sean has. It's like a concert."
After nosing around in the closet, she emerged and approached the bedside, placing her palms flat on the comforter and grinning at Flora. Flora was either really good at pretending to be asleep or she had actually dozed off again.
"Poor little thing," Kate whispered. "She looks so pitiful." She turned her head to me. "You still haven't done it yet, have you?"
"No."
"Well I'd get on it soon. You don't have much time."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She bit her lower lip and raised her shoulders. "I know how much money you have left."
Adrenaline gushed through my veins, but I managed not to show my anger. Not yet.
"It doesn't matter."
She blinked twice, as if to say, Oh, really now? You don't care at all that you're about to die? I think I spot a liar.
She was right, of course, but pretending not to care was the only weapon I had in this battle. An empty act of defiance. No more sophisticated than the thought process of a mule.
"I'm sure you're curious," she said, "death being so painful and absolute. I know if I were about to die, I'd probably just . . . completely break down. You know?"
The more she spoke, the more her head tilted to the side. By the time she shut up, she looked like she'd had a stroke and lost the ability to hold her head up. Then suddenly it sprang back straight like one of those inflatable tube men you see in front of car dealerships.
Walking away from the bed, she began to speak at full volume.
"What I'm trying to decide is this: if I were in your shoes, if I had the option of knowing when I was going to die, would I choose to know or not know?"
Kate tripped and stumbled forward, grabbing onto a chair at the table to keep herself from falling.
What was up with her? The dramatic head jerk and now this? The coma must have taken quite a physical toll.
She pulled the chair out and sat, patting the tabletop as an invitation for me to sit opposite her. For whatever reason, I did. Her back faced the cabinets, so if this table served as a makeshift desk, this was Kate's office and she was the boss.
Between us stood a glass of water that contained one of three drugs.
She put her hands on the table, interlaced her fingers, and leaned forward, looking mean as ever.
"What are you doing, Melissa?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you trading James sex for drugs?"
"Flora is sick."
"With what? The flu?"
"I don't know."
"Tell the truth."
This was bad. James had told her everything. The fucking idiot must not have realized it was the dumbest decision he could have made for himself. When Sean found out he'd violated the terms of my confinement, he would be in as much shit as me.
"She's just sick," I said, "and I wanted to help her."
"At the risk of getting both of you killed."
I took a deep breath, then said, "You try being locked away.
I put on a fake smile. "Kate, how nice to see you! You look rested."
"Never felt better," she said, flopping her arms and smacking her hips--they were mostly bare; a tight red cocktail dress at seven in the morning. "You look tired, Melissa. Are you getting enough sleep? I'd be sleeping all the time if I were you." She stepped past me and peeked into the room, then looked back to me with a mischievous grin. "Or playing with Flora. Can I come in?"
I stepped aside and let her enter, closing the door behind us.
My eyes went immediately to the glass of water on the table. It sat there like a landmine, as did Flora. Not a single person in this building would fail to immediately identify Flora's wound for what it was.
Especially not Kate.
"Looks a little shabby in here," she said.
"I thought I wasn't allowed contact with anyone."
She turned and smiled. "You know me. I always get what I want." Then she began to wander the room, inspecting for cleanliness, noting changes, like when she stopped at the busted stereo system and said, "You should see the sound system Sean has. It's like a concert."
After nosing around in the closet, she emerged and approached the bedside, placing her palms flat on the comforter and grinning at Flora. Flora was either really good at pretending to be asleep or she had actually dozed off again.
"Poor little thing," Kate whispered. "She looks so pitiful." She turned her head to me. "You still haven't done it yet, have you?"
"No."
"Well I'd get on it soon. You don't have much time."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She bit her lower lip and raised her shoulders. "I know how much money you have left."
Adrenaline gushed through my veins, but I managed not to show my anger. Not yet.
"It doesn't matter."
She blinked twice, as if to say, Oh, really now? You don't care at all that you're about to die? I think I spot a liar.
She was right, of course, but pretending not to care was the only weapon I had in this battle. An empty act of defiance. No more sophisticated than the thought process of a mule.
"I'm sure you're curious," she said, "death being so painful and absolute. I know if I were about to die, I'd probably just . . . completely break down. You know?"
The more she spoke, the more her head tilted to the side. By the time she shut up, she looked like she'd had a stroke and lost the ability to hold her head up. Then suddenly it sprang back straight like one of those inflatable tube men you see in front of car dealerships.
Walking away from the bed, she began to speak at full volume.
"What I'm trying to decide is this: if I were in your shoes, if I had the option of knowing when I was going to die, would I choose to know or not know?"
Kate tripped and stumbled forward, grabbing onto a chair at the table to keep herself from falling.
What was up with her? The dramatic head jerk and now this? The coma must have taken quite a physical toll.
She pulled the chair out and sat, patting the tabletop as an invitation for me to sit opposite her. For whatever reason, I did. Her back faced the cabinets, so if this table served as a makeshift desk, this was Kate's office and she was the boss.
Between us stood a glass of water that contained one of three drugs.
She put her hands on the table, interlaced her fingers, and leaned forward, looking mean as ever.
"What are you doing, Melissa?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you trading James sex for drugs?"
"Flora is sick."
"With what? The flu?"
"I don't know."
"Tell the truth."
This was bad. James had told her everything. The fucking idiot must not have realized it was the dumbest decision he could have made for himself. When Sean found out he'd violated the terms of my confinement, he would be in as much shit as me.
"She's just sick," I said, "and I wanted to help her."
"At the risk of getting both of you killed."
I took a deep breath, then said, "You try being locked away.
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