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…

down

It’s just a rat…

dark openings, more scratching. And

you gaze long enough into an abyss, the

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet.

*****

you know what Stockholm syndrome

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

condition where, in a kidnap or

“You saying you're getting attached

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

“So?”

your

flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into the napkin and she dabs it up with a fingertip then

do you keep coming

her chewing, mouth hanging a

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

have to feed you. I assume you do want me to feed you?

bag of potatoes and come once a

not speaking, simply regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it?

her head, giggling. “So,

worth saving? 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 right through you. The same heartless bastard that shipped me out to dig up potatoes for the rest of my life. Along with all the others you

sits back in her seat, arches her brows. “I am making

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 her face. “Have

“Solana…” she hisses.

The contents spill and scatter over the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than

on her heel,

the chain snaps taut, I snatch up the discarded meal from the filthy

camera.

single bite taken from the corner. And I have half

eaten anything like

For how long?

no idea. Weeks? Months? My sense of time is

I had

mouthful of empanada, then another, I ram the food into

much. Too soon. Half-chewed pulp goes down the wrong way and

it up,

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