God. I’m beingchloroformed. How cliché is that? It’sembarrassing.The man starts to drag me away, and I kick aimlessly at him, trying to trip him up. When that doesn’t work, I turn my head, trying to bite his hand, but I just get a mouthful of the damp cloth.
A flurry of gunshots suddenly crack through the smoke. I scream as I feel a bullet whiz over my head.
“Don’t shoot!” I hear Kenta shout from far away, and some of the tension around my chest loosens. He’s okay. He didn’t get hurt. “You’ll hit her!”
I open my mouth to shout to him, to scream, but I can’t make my voice work. Nausea rolls up in my chest, and I feel my legs bending under me. I blink hard as the shapes in the smoke start to swirl and distort. The hand on my waist tightens.
“There we are. You’re okay, angel,” a voice coos in my ear. “Just relax. I’ve got something to show you.”
“I’ll gouge out your balls and stuff them down your throat until you choke, you ugly littlepiece of shit!” I spit out. Or at least, I try to spit out. My mouth feels numb, and the words aren’t coming. Instead, I just moan. My vision is going in and out. My heart is pounding painfully. This is it. I’m going to die.
Lips brush against my ear. “Aw, it’s okay. I know you’re scared, but we’ll get you out of here. Come on, I’ve got you.”
I moan again and try to push away, but my arms just twitch. My eyes widen. I can’t move. I’m completely paralysed. X swings me up into his arms and starts to carry me away. The smoke is shifting and dissipating, and for a second, I see Kenta. He’s holding his gun and scanning the crowd, his face frantic.
As I watch him, our eyes lock. His mouth drops open in horror as he sees me getting carried away.
“BRIAR!” He shouts, running forward. I try to scream for him, but the world finally blinks out into nothing.
Forty-Four
X
I almost forgot how beautiful Briar looks when she’s sleeping.
Right now, she’s asleep on the sofa in my living room, breathing softly. Her hair is loose, and it’s all spread out over my couch cushions. It’s a really nice golden colour. And soft, too. I know how soft it is. When I was putting her in the car, I gagged her, and then I got to run my fingers through it. It was cheating, I suppose; I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t touch her until she’d woken up and I’d fed her dinner and kissed her. That’s the proper order to do it in. But I couldn’t help touching her hair when I was gagging her.
She was very quiet on the drive down here. I wasn’t sure how long the chloroform would last, so I put some on her gag, too, and tied it over her mouth. Just in case she did wake up, I used zip ties for her wrists. When I bought them in the supply store (along with some craft blades, duct tape, and more insulation for my walls) the sales lady laughed and said that I was all set for my career as a serial killer. I scarpered quick. I didn’t want her to remember my face. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I’ve been so worried the past few weeks. I’ve had nightmares that the police will find me and catch me before I can bring Briar home.
It turns out, all of that worry was for nothing. Tonight went off without a hitch. The bombs worked perfectly. When I threw them into the crowd, the explosions sent all the security and police running towards the blast. It was simple enough to knock Briar out and slip away.
Briar twitches in her sleep, and a massive smile spreads across my face. She’s waking up. I’msoexcited to finally talk to her. I’ve been dreaming of this exact moment for years.
She twitches again, harder this time, and then groans. I stand slowly. “Angel? Are you waking up?”
She groans again, then starts to choke horribly.
I rush over to help her as she doubles over, heaving over the edge of the couch. Nothing comes up, but she looks awful. Her face is chalky white and sweaty.
My chest aches. “Oh, angel. I’m sorry. It’s the anaesthetic, isn’t it?” I sit down on the couch next to her, putting a hand on her back. Her bare back. She shudders and coughs. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I tried the drugs on myself, to make sure they wouldn’t make you feel too bad. But I guess you’re reacting differently to them.”
She heaves a breath, then reaches out to grab my hand weakly. My heart stops. Trying to breathe, I squeeze her fingers.
“I’m so dizzy,” she mumbles. “Kent…”
I frown. Kent? Is that a name? Or is she just talking gibberish?
She leans into me, whimpering. “I don’t feel… I’m… help me—”
“I’m here, love,” I murmur, smoothing my hand down her back. Her skin is like satin, but warm and alive under my fingertips. “I’m here. You’re safe, now.”
She shakes her head and gags again. I let her go and rush to find a bin, kicking it in front of her right as she starts to get sick. It goes on for a long time. I think maybe putting the chloroform on her gag was a bad idea.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur over and over. “So, so sorry. Poor darling. You’ll feel better soon.” I feel terrible. This isn’t how I wanted us to meet at all. I never wanted to hurt her. But really, how was I supposed to know she’d have a bad reaction to chloroform?
Eventually, she sits up, leaning heavily against the back of the couch. Her face is very white and her eyes are hazy. She blinks heavily a few times, trying to focus on me.
“X?” She says slowly.
