“How do you know it’s that?” Zeke said in a strangled whisper.
Oliver shut his eyes. It seemed like he might have drifted back off to sleep, but he eventually replied, “Whenever I helped him out by giving blood, he would say my vitamin B12 levels were low. Then he’d give me a shot of it. But every time, it made me feel weird. And now—now my organs are failing.”
“I’m so sorry, Ollie.” Hot tears trickled down Zeke’s face, but he made no move to wipe them.
“Hey, maybe the crazy fucker gave you some different shit? I’m glad you’re okay, Zeke. Really.” Oliver started coughing, which turned into a gargling choke.
His mother rushed to sit him up. “You need to leave now.”
“Have you contacted the police?” Noah asked. “Zeke said they’re building a case against him.”
“Of course I have,” she spat. “It took weeks for someone to come round. Then I begged them for help, but they said Harding is refusing to talk.”
Oliver waved at them feebly through his coughing fit, and all at once, Zeke couldn’t face him anymore.
He ran down the stairs, bursting back onto the street, and threw himself into the car. Pulling his knees up onto the seat, he pressed his eyes to them, vaguely aware it was coming up to the tenth time Noah had seen him curled into a helpless ball but powerless to stop it.
Noah shut his door with a click. His quiet, steady breathing steadied Zeke.
“I really need to stop crying in front of you.” Zeke forced a laugh.
“You really don’t.”
Unfurling himself from his ball, he said, “I think I need to ask one more favour from you.”
“Itisyour birthday.” Noah looked at him expectantly, his kind eyes eager and bright.
He hesitated. Was he really about to ask this?
“I need to see Doctor Harding. He’s in Blackhouse Prison.”
Noah’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t expected the favour to be this big.
“Please. He might talk to me if I see him face to face. He liked me. Kind of. And I need to know if I’m— If he—”
“So, he really did illegally use the two of you in a study?” Noah asked, his face crumpled with concern.
“He was arrested on charges of child abuse. So I don’t think it was just us.”
“Shit. What did he do to you?”
“He was only meant to be drawing blood. He was having trouble accessing enough via the blood banks,” Zeke whispered.
The smell of the alcohol on the sterile cloth.
The feel of Harding’s fingers pulling his skin taut.
Three taps on the palm of his gloved hand.
A short sharp pinch.
The promise Zeke wouldn’t see any blood.
Why hadn’t he questioned why Harding always drew the blood from them after everyone else had left for the evening, leaving him and Oliver to clean up?
“He was so nice… socharming,”Zeke continued, “I guess we were blinded by that. I’m not sure what he did to us. That’s why I need to see him. But if it’s too much to ask—”
Noah held up his hand. “It’s not. There’s a friend of a friend of my uncle’s that might be able to help. It won’t be today, though.” Noah reached over to brush the tips of Zeke’s fingers. “Try not to worry yourself. You seem fine to me.”
