Page 162 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

He only knows his age because of Troy, who brings him a gift in the cold month of January and sits with him for a while.

‘You’re a grown man now,’ he tells him after several beats of agonising silence. ‘Do you…?’ Troy clears his throat. ‘Still wanna be a man?’

Riley refuses to let his anger flare.

He keeps it smothered and buried beneath glass, doesn’t react to Troy’s stupidity and his total lack of understanding because there’s no point. Sometimes Riley can’t help himself and his temper gets the better of him and Troy beats him down when he ignores the warnings, but that doesn’t happen so much anymore.

Injuries are annoying.

Anything that requires attention is annoying.

Riley hasn’t seen the moon in years.

Time only comes into focus when Troy forces it.

The man who runs Iron Star wears a moustache now, hair shorter at the top than it used to be. He dresses well. Good pants, silver-buckled belt, pressed black shirts. Time has changed him in ways he chose and embraced. Riley wishes he had the energy to envy it.

He is forgotten by time and the world.

The invisible boy.

Or man as Troy now informs him.

‘Riley, we need to talk.’

‘We don’t.’

‘We do. You’re twenty-one.’

‘I eat. I sleep. I try not to make trouble.’

‘That’s not what I wanna talk about.’

‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ Riley says, getting off the bed, but Troy grabs his wrist to stop him. The contact jolts Riley, threatening to awaken feelings within. The searing hatred he has for Troy is built from years of sour resentment and rotted rage that boil and bubble beneath a stony, dormant surface. That hatred is animalistic, but no less opportunistic.

He must be careful to control it.

Riley yanks away sharply.

He’s strong enough to kill Troy with his bare hands, they both know it.

‘Don’t touch me,’ he warns.

‘Then stay and talk.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re an adult now. You can leave if you want.’

Riley blinks slowly, seeking the lie, the trick. ‘Fuck you.’

‘Don’t,’ Troy intones, brows raised.

‘Just leave me alone.’

‘That’s what I’m saying. You can go if you want. I half expected you to leave with your aunt. That’s why I let her in.’

‘You let her in?’