“Break it down for me like I’m five, aight?”
I drop my head,
pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.
“I choose them, screen them, test them, push them to their limits,” I say. “If they pass my tests, they sign the contract, live in my house, and follow my rules—loyalty’s in, emotions out. Mine when I need them, ghosts when I don’t.”
I study his face,
waiting for the wince,
theyou-need-helplook.
“They can walk any time. No one’s trapped.
“But no one gets to come back, either.”
There.Now he has it.
If he blinks too long, I’m gone.
If he sighs, I’ll shatter.
If he says nothing,
it might be worse than him saying everything.
“They?” The word lands light.
Bobs.
Then sinks.
“Plural?”
Pluralsuddenly sounds dirtier than anything I’ve ever done.
My eyes bounce between his. “Up to three max at a time. But I’ve only had four long-term Boys over the three years. Right now it’s just Ben.”
My fingers tap the glass, then stop.
Tap again.
Then stop.
Puzzle pieces move behind his eyes,
scraps of me he’s been carrying around,
and now they’re finally spelling something?—
“Raymond,” he says on exhale,
and its thrown
straight through the room,
a blade driven into my gut.
