The thought comes unbidden and my face twists as I stamp my feet, bringing myself back into the present. I hate dwelling on the past. It just poisons the here and now. Especially when it was no fun the first time and grows progressively more distasteful with each unwanted stroll through my memories.
A boy cycles past on a bike and I tense, but he continues onward, sitting back so he doesn’t touch the handlebars, buds poking from his ears.
Another kid goes past on a scooter; a manual one, not the kind you can rent on the street.
Finally, Steven approaches the park. He’s a perfect match for the school photo and is still in uniform. He has a bike with him, but he walks beside it, a school bag hanging off the handlebars.
I cross the street once he starts up the path, cutting through the small park. Once he reaches the treeline where he’s expecting Sierra to meet him, I jog to catch up. “Hey,” I call out as he ducks behind the small breeze block maintenance building. “Are you Steven?”
You know. Just in case.
He nods, looking irritated, and I wonder if he thinks I’m a friend or relative there to let him know she can’t make it after all. The expression changes to one of alarm as I keep heading towards him at the same speed, pushing one arm against his throat to pin him to the wall.
“You pushed Sierra over,” I tell him, and his eyes widen. “You hurt her.”
He tries to shake his head and I press harder on his throat, using the fattest part of my forearm so it doesn’t bruise.
“Call her a name again and we’re gonna have a problem.” I pull a switchblade from my pocket and pop the blade out, holding it far enough from the boy that he can see it clearly. “From now on, you won’t go near her. Do you understand?”
He nods, a tear slipping from one lid, soon joined by another and another until the kid is bawling. Jesus, they grow them soft these days.
“Shut up,” I tell him, then again louder, “Stop crying. Tell me you understand.”
He shakes his head, but it’s not a negation of what I want. The boy just isn’t tracking things correctly.
I think.
It always pays to make sure.
“Stop crying now or I’ll stab you in the gut and leave you for dead.”
Steven’s chest hitches and his face turns so pale I’m afraid he’s about to faint.
“Tell me you’ll stay away from Sierra.”
“I-I’ll s-stay away.”
I pull him forward, then slam him back against the wall. “Say it properly.”
He shrieks, “I’ll stay away from Sierra. I promise. I won’t talk to her or push her or call her names.”
When I draw back, he falls forward on his hands and knees on the grass. A foot along, I use the concrete wall to press the blade back into its housing and give Steven a quick nod. “Usually, I’d scar you as a reminder, but on this occasion, I’m gonna take your word. Don’t make me regret it.”
He’s shaking and babbling as I move away. Reduced to a crumpled mess in less than a minute and he doesn’t even have a scratch.
My car’s parked a few streets away and I duck through a side alley, then another, before circling back. As I approach the vehicle from the opposite direction to where I’ve just been, I make a show of it. If anyone’s watching, they’ll remember this subterfuge ahead of anything else.
On the way home, I stop and discard the knife in a drain. Better safe than sorry, and the inlaid pearl handle is a visual that just might stick in Steven’s memory.
I’m whistling as I park in the garage and walk through the connecting door to see what’s stored in the fridge for dinner.
Lilac hasn’t yet told me the entire truth, but she’s not actively lying to me. It’s a pleasant change. So is her commitment to our deal, even if I no longer have an interest in her failing. If she tried to move away now, I’d hunt her to the ends of the earth.
With the current task, I expect she’ll complete it, even if she hates every minute. But there’s still a part of me that wants her to fail. Maybe to come screaming apart at the edges.
And when I absolve her of the required penance, she’ll owe me.
Then she’ll be really, truly mine.
