Now, it’s time to get more.
“Speaking of those sentences,” I said, “why do you write them?”
She winced at my change of subject.
“I told you, that was my father’s punishment,” she whispered.
“And I’ll ask again,what sinswere you atoning for?”
Her fear snapped into hatred quick, as if she suddenly remembered her Initiation. “You should know. You’re the one who played that fucking lullaby.”
I didn’t know much about the lullaby.
Someone left a note in our folders that if we played it, it’d put her through hell. So, obviously, since that was our goal, we had.
“How did you know about it?” she pushed.
“Someone left a note for me about it.”
“Someone left a note?” she asked, repeating my words slowly, as if sounding each one out and not believing me. “No one knows my past here.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
She cowered against the wall again.
Our conversation kept jumping, but that was what happened when you had enough secrets to weigh down the fucking planet like Blair did.
I thought I had secrets delved deep inside me, but Blair might’ve had me beat. They might not be as violent as mine, but I had a feeling they were just as dark.
Every answer she gave me led to more questions I wanted to ask.
“Tell me why that lullaby haunts you, Blair,” I said.
She shook her head, her eyes turning away, and she tried to back up again, as if forgetting the wall was behind her.
Something stuttered from her mouth, but they weren’t words that made sense. Her eyes darted around the room before she stared at the door distantly.
I grabbed the gun, and she froze. Her eyes grew glossy before tears poured down her cheeks as I spun the cylinder. I used the muzzle of the gun to brush one tear away before moving it to the side of her head.
Her body shook, and more tears fell.
I didn’t sweep those ones away.
There were so many tears that I couldn’t make out her pupils.
“Six chambers, one bullet,” I warned. “Answer the question, or we’ll see if the bullet is in this first chamber.”
She shook her head violently, as if the words couldn’t leave her mouth.
“Why, Blair?” I seethed. “Tell me so I don’t have to pull this fucking trigger.”
My heart rate sped as sweat built along my forehead. Tension grew in my neck, my shoulders, my hand holding the gun, my throat, everywhere in my body. I’d never had this feeling while holding a gun to someone’s head.
Normally, it was satisfaction.
Not fear that I might regret this move.
She stilled, as if suddenly paralyzed, and focused somewhere on my shoulder. She didn’t beg for mercy, didn’t plead with me, only slammed her eyes shut, as if preparing for her death.
