“The perimeter?”
“We have sensors on top of the fence all around, cameras, and guards patrolling at night with dogs. One of those almost ate that idiot kid when he went roaming around in the garden, drunk out of his mind. He said he wanted to paint the full moon… Jesus, good thing the dogs obey their handlers to the letter.”
They went back the main security building, close to the one where the server room was, and Martin gestured him into a common room with a kitchen corner, and some tables and chairs.
“This is our common area and the briefing room is there. Just in case you want to mingle and shoot pool with the others.”
The skin had started crawling on Duncan’s back but he just forced a polite smile. “Sure, why not.”
“Coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’d like to pack out, eat something, and crash. If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. You’ll be busy enough soon. Here are the car keys with the license number on the tag. You have a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Great. See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for the tour.”
“Remember, I’m your man if you’re lost.” Winking.
Duncan just hoped that that wink didn’t mean anything because sure as fuck he didn’t need anything at all. He walked up to his flat and opened the door, that eerie calm, soothing, even if everything was foreign, still, and felt like a dream. He unpacked though, found that tiny dressing room, relieved at the sight of the ironing board. He took another bag to the bedroom, packing out his personal items into a dresser, and shoved the vibrator into his bedside table’s drawer. A tiny flame of vengeance glowing in his bleeding heart.
He went then to cook a quick meal, some pasta with a cheese sauce, a few groceries he had taken from their fridge.That fuck has to clean up the cake…smiling above his pain. He wiped at some rogue tears because sure as fuck he would not cry.
Sitting down to eat in that silent flat, the pasta just turned sour in his mouth when finally, swallowing that warm bite, he broke down. Crying, letting his shoulders rock with his sobs, he buried his face in his hands. Howling softly, his throat aching. Rocking a bit because there was nobody there to see him like that, because it had always helped, even if all his life, people had told him that he had looked like a lunatic. It felt good, soothing, to just rock himself, like when he had been a kid and he had needed peace, alone in his room whilst his parents had been fighting downstairs. Objects breaking against the walls. Bodies slammed into them. Cries, shouting, howls, sobs, blows raining on flesh. Rocking, his hands wedged on his ears. Eyes shut tight. His thumb wedged in his mouth. Tempted… he almost pushed it in his mouth when he caught himself, calming, taking deep breaths to stop rocking, stop crying.Jesus… fuck…wiping his tears off, he stood and took some paper wipes, blowing his nose.He drank a large glass of water, feeling a bit better.Focus.He flexed his trembling hands, and walked to the dressing room to iron his shirt and choose a tie. Prepare his shoes too, his gun and holster. Checking the gun, a routine, soothing, bringing back that discipline he had lost in that dark room.Fuck me…
Scolding himself, he went to take another shower and went to bed, trying to find sleep in that foreign bed, empty of that warm body he used to snuggle up to, caress the hair on that soft belly, tease him, push his mouth to his lips to steal a kiss, let him grab his hips and…Fuck.He almost jerked off, almost… but didn’t want to relieve his stress this way, even if it seemed the only sane thing to do, to just wank it out.Pathetic…Grazing his cock, but it didn’t seem in the mood, half-hard…it would be half-assed, at best… Shit.Bundling the pillow under his cheek, he closed his eyes, evening his breathing.Disaster…
That disaster of a night when he couldn’t stop tossing and turning, waking from that light sleep, watching the ceiling, to fall asleep again. Minutes like hours… and then the alarm.Shit…Shower, piss in the shower, teeth, raking his hair, avoiding those tired eyes in the mirror, that misery plain on his face.Get a grip.Dressing, pulling his holster on, his suit jacket. Tie. Not even looking as he tied it, walking to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, scooping some yoghurt in a bowl, a large portion of muesli, some strawberry jam on top. He ate it, fast, then downed a glass of orange juice. Brewing some coffee. A dash of milk. Drinking a large mug, he felt better as the food found his blood and the caffeine fired up that tired brain.
He made some in a thermos and left, walking to that huge garage. A man was there, and they shook hands.
“I’m Hank, the mechanic and garage manager.” Puffing a bit, he seemed in his late forties.
“Duncan. I’m…”
“Spencer’s new toy. I know.” He pointed at a black and chrome car. “That’s the one. All clean and fuelled up.”
“Thanks.”
He sat in, checking around a bit. It had that dark window you could lower or pull up. All the windows tainted black.Great.Starting the engine, it rumbled to life. He put the address in the GPS and drove out, following that path down to the gate. The guard just let him out, waving, and Duncan felt a bit more at ease, the gun wedged against his ribs, steering that large car bringing some comfort. Focusing on the task and not on the mess that his thoughts were when he had let them loose. Tired a bit, but the sun was up and it seemed already the start of a great day.
Steering to the front of the hospital, he parked the car and walked to reception.
“I’m here to pick Spencer Galloway up.”
“Room 12…”
“Second floor. I know, thanks.”
Duncan went up and walked to that room, bracing himself, he breathed a couple of breaths before knocking.
“Come in…”
Duncan pushed the door in, meeting those mocking, dark eyes. Spencer was sitting on the bed, wearing what seemed like silk pyjamas and a black silk robe with jade green patterns and edges. He had trainers on, black too, swinging his feet on that high bed, his fingers laced.
