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“Why is that man in the bath and tied up?”

“I need him to tell us some stuff”

“Before you let him go, or before you kill him?”

“That depends”

“On what?”

“The information he does and doesn’t give me… and you”

“Me?” she asks, cognisance coming back online

“Well, if it will upset you, I can try my best to not kill him” I explain

“What about how you feel? Will it not upset you if you kill him?” she asks, and it’s adorable to think that another living being believes I have enough heart to be affected by the taking of a life. It scratches a weird part of my brain and I don’t know what to do with it.

“I don’t usually think about how I feel. If somebody needs to be dead, I kill them. If him being alive makes you less safe, I’ll kill him”

“What about you being safe?” she asks, genuinely searching. I guess I hadn’t really factored my own safety into an equation for quite some time. Operational objectives, employer’s interests, that’s about it really. Not like there’s anybody to miss me, and there hasn’t been for as long as I can really remember. I guess now there is.

“I think I’ll be fine”

“Okay… do you think he’ll kill me?”

“He’d be dead before he tried” that one is objectively factual. He’s just been waterboarded for interrupting my conversation, my sweet, I don’t think he’s in any position to be an imminent threat.

“… you’re not going to kill me, are you?” that question hits me like a train.

“I will kill every other person in the universe, myself included, before I let anyone harm a single cell that you produce. I will protect you, with every fibre of my being, in this life and the next”

“… what if I make you mad?”

“Then I’ll be mad”

“… what if I mess something up?”

“Then it’ll be messed up until we fix it”

“… what if I cost you a fortune?”

“I’m going to stop you right now. You can cost me my soul, for all I care. There is nothing you can do that would make me inflict - directly or indirectly - harm onto you. Not physically, sexually, emotionally, psychologically, financially, accidentally, negligently, recklessly, maliciously or any other -ly we can think of. If ever I hurt you, say the word, and I’ll end myself there and then for failing the sole purpose I seem to be on this planet”

I put my hands on the top of her arms, trying to rub her back to life “When nobody else is, I promise you are safe, for as long as I can physically manage it. I just need you to trust me, and right now I have to go and deal with this bellend in the bathtub. You can stay here, and be close, but you might hear some shit. You can come with me, but you might see and hear some shit. Or you can go to your room and listen to some shit music until I’m done”

I stand myself up, and she takes my hand, letting me lead the way. Just as I touch the door handle, still in her tiny voice

“No bullet holes in the bathroom” she mildly requests

“Promise” and I hand her the gun from my waistband, emptying all the rounds on the carpet, and showing her the chamber is empty. A technical detail that she probably doesn’t understand, but she definitely appreciates that the gun now has no bullets.

“… and afterwards I can clean?”

“Of course, baby. Once we’re done you can clean as much as you want”

I glance in her eyes one more time, confirming her readiness, before opening the door. Leading through I see her eyes widen and her face tells me her stomach churns at the sight of Craig before she takes her seat on the toilet lid.

Nineteen