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 gunmen, soldiers,

It’s just a rat…

dark openings, more scratching. And a nose pokes

long enough into an abyss, the abyss

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between

*****

you know what Stockholm syndrome

her eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox,

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

“You saying you're getting attached

attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called Lima syndrome, where the captor comes to

“So?”

your only friend,

“Friend? You think you’re my friend?” The napkin produces a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off

why do you keep

her chewing, mouth hanging a little

all you wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk my chin

to feed you. I assume you do want me to feed you? We can always change that you

bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even,

speaking, simply regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've murdered everyone else that might get

“So, you're

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 right through you. The same heartless bastard that shipped me out to dig up

crosses her arms, sits back in her seat, arches her brows. “I

eyes, I keep my voice mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really changes?” I raise my gaze again, look into

“Solana…” she hisses.

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

heel, she

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 hand, a cake with the

the green blink of the camera. It hardly matters. My attention

taken from

anything

For how long?

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

had a

a mouthful of empanada, then another, I ram the

goes down the wrong way and suddenly I’m no longer eating,

gagging on my scavenged meal, I barf it up, where it plops in a saliva-coated mess

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

Comments ()

0/255