McGill presses the balls of his fingers into my swollen ankle, and white-hot pain scorches my veins. I cry out, using the adrenaline to throw any of the three men off, but they have countless pounds of muscle on me.
A shuddered breath bubbles out of me as the headmaster loosens his hold just enough to lessen the pressure.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” McGill cocks his head to the side as he gives me a pitiful look at my thrashing. “Admit to the explosion, and I’ll stop.”
I hesitate, only for a second, but my mouth opens, and I say the three words I can’t take back. “Kohen did it.”
I took the fall for his crimes once, and I’m not doing that again.
The guilt feels acidic in my stomach, but I swallow it down and keep looking straight. How many times do I need to be in this type of situation? With someone else’s hands on me, held down, debased to something that’s so expendable, the worddignitydoesn’t need to be attached.
“This again?”
My heart sinks to my stomach.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
For a second there, I was delusional enough to believe that my words meant anything to anyone.
They can grab my foot as many times as they want, strap me to the chair and electrocute me, or wave that bag in front of my face; nothing will sting as badly as this.
“The shed,” is all I manage to say.
Hopeless.
That’s the word I’m looking for.
That’s what I am.
I stop thrashing around. I stop fighting. What’s the point? It won’t change anything.
“Do not take us for fools. We know it was you.”
“It wasn’t,” I lie through my teeth. I might as well confess to it. That would probably be the first time in my life any kind of authority figure believes me.
“Mr. Osman may have willingly taken the blame for you once; there won’t be a second time.”
My lips part. “Willingly?”
Does he mean Kohen never tried to argue his way out of it? Never tried placing the blame on someone else or even claimed he had no knowledge of it? He just… he confessed to the crime I committed.
McGill doesn’t give me the courtesy of an answer. “Last chance,” he says, subtly squeezing my ankle. “No?”
I grit my teeth and let out a silent cry. They don’t deserve to feel satisfaction over my pain. No one around here can hear me, and no one except Kohen would do a damn thing about it even if they could.
“That’s enough.” Dr. Van der Merwe steps forward. I slice my gaze over to his flattened brows while his eyes capture the scene.
“Confess.” A single word is all McGill gives me.
“Does my grandfather know you’re doing this?” I blurt out, trying to buy some time as I process this new information. After everything Kohen said about trying to get to me, he told them it was him? Even knowing they could have pressed charges—slim as that risk may be?
“No, but I doubt he would be opposed. As I’m sure Dr. Van der Merwe has said, your grandfather takes your rehabilitation very seriously.”
“Bullshit.” I spit, trying to summon the dwindling fight in me. “You’re torturing me for information I’ve already given you, and to get your sick fucking kicks out of it.” McGill made his hatred toward me clear the second I started stirring shit. “Kohen said he started the last fire; why aren’t you questioning him about what he might know?”
“There’s no point wasting anyone’s time when you could tell the truth.” McGill bares his fingers down, squeezing so tightly that tendons and joints give way beneath his grip. Even if I tried, I couldn’t stop the feral screech that tears out of me. “Confess, Blaze.”
“That’s enough.” Dr. Van der Merwe claps a hand on McGill’s shoulder and tugs him back.
