Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 52

Klempner

What's the obsession with potatoes?

I called her Potato Face when she was a kid.

What does she look like now?

Jenny was no looker at that age…

… But she matured. Bloomed.

Juliana... Never the same twice.

I scratch at my beard. I’ve never liked facial hair in hot climates, but I don’t have a choice right now. Even so, the flourishing colony of lice that has stowed aboard adds an extra edge of irritation.

Lice…

Where the fuck did they come from?

Can rat lice live on humans?

Having a fucking good go at it…

I catch one, squeezing the revolting thing between my fingernails. It bursts with a Pop!

Only another 999 to go…

*****

The boredom’s the worst. Endless hours. Endless days and nights. I’ve no idea how long.

The only breaks in the monotony are Juliana’s visits: just long enough to sit, eat something at me, toss a potato at me.

No, not Juliana: Solana.

Why's she so obsessed with the name?

How many names have I used over the years? Worn like a suit of clothes to be discarded when the weather changes and something different is needed.

I’ve never been defined by my name.

But she sees it differently…

Something skritches and I jerk a look sidelong

It’s a rat…

Just a rat…

faced down

It’s just a rat…

scratching. And

into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back at

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between us, we settle an uneasy

*****

you know

over her eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her

label for a psychological condition where, in a kidnap or hostage situation, the prisoner

saying you're getting attached

me...” Her head tilts. She pretending mockery, but I have her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called Lima syndrome, where the

“So?”

I your only friend,

a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small

you keep

her chewing, mouth hanging a little open.

you keep coming? If all you wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk my chin up to

want me to feed you? We can always change that you

leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month. But, so far as I can reckon, you're

regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only

swings her head, giggling. “So,

That there's anyone out there who thinks you're worth it? The daughter you had slated as a sex-slave when she was a kid? That middle-aged hooker? You've not changed, Larry. I can see

her seat, arches her brows. “I am making

claiming to have changed.

“Solana…” she hisses.

rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than white. Even under the heavy make-up, her colour has changed. White-faced, white-lipped, scarlet spots at her

on her heel, she stalks

Launching myself at the fallen food, ignoring the jab of pain in my ankle as the chain snaps taut, I snatch up the discarded meal from the filthy concrete, scrabbling to grab broken fragments of meat in one

the green blink of the camera. It hardly

only a single bite taken from the corner. And I have half of

eaten anything

For how long?

I’ve no idea. Weeks? Months? My sense of time is

had

empanada, then another, I ram the food into my

Half-chewed pulp goes down the wrong way and

meal, I barf it up, where it plops

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255