Deadly lunch.

Chapter 7:

Jack-line.

"Thank you so much, Miss acker. We are eternally grateful".

The over-the-top expressions of gratitude came from the Lewis Brothers while we were standing in the hallway in front of the elevator doors. This was the only part of today that I would have gladly left for Vicky, after all she was the head of the IT development department. The pair were like puppies, over exited and annoying. But after the welcome party this morning they proved their resilience. That was probably why I did not stare them to death after the seventy thanks they uttered. Come on, there is a limit to expressing appreciation.

When they at last boarded the cabin, I stay rooted in my spot for a few seconds. A discreet way to get my bearing. The words usually whispered in the building were of me being cold, calculating, ruthless, and unfeeling.

The formers I admit to being so. But the last one… a scoff come out of me before I could catch it.

Drake who was standing a few steps away came closer at the sound. "You feel too much, that's why you freeze on those who display emotional reaction."

"You're being sharp." I say without looking at him. The profile he is facing is seared with the heat of his gaze, and I inhale more of his intoxicating scent. There is a dangerous but soothing comfort in it, a heady combination.

"You like me being sharp." The cocky boy. As I feel a smile stretch my mouth, I see him from the corner of my eyes lifting a strand of my hair and smell it.

"You are lucky I forbid video surveillance and entrance to this hallway."

"Are you ashamed of me miss Acker? Or are you being shy? I don't know which one will offend me more."

"When did you start being offended by anything I say?" I ask turning fully to face him. The strand of hair he was holding stays firmly in his hand.

"I don't know you left me for ten years." The petulant tone he uses clashes with the look of pure fire in his eyes.

"Did I now Mr. Plow. Last, I remember we had a mutual agreement." I say taking a step closer to him. It was as if our bodies were magnets irrefutably drawn toward one another.

"What agreement?!" He says with a shrug. "I never agreed to any of this. I just did what you wanted because I knew it was the only way I get to be with you again, and drop the Plow shit"

"Drop it? I didn't start it to do so. You did." I retort.

"You…" I take a step toward me lips almost touching mine.

"Hmm?"

"I'll kiss you."

A snort come out of me without warning, and I chuckle. He stares at me riveted and captivated. How I missed that look.

"Let us continue this in my office Mr. Furrow." I say after a respite.

"Let's continue with lunch."

"No."

"I brought a lunch box."

How I wish I did not vow to never swear. "Of course, you did."

"Well, you don't eat out and our day is just starting."

"Let me guess Winter- who is still pretending to be your driver- is waiting somewhere close by."

"Now who is being sharp."

I cover the pleasure I feel with a sigh. He can enjoy the satisfaction of knowing he made me happy on my own terms.

"I guess I can suffer your company through lunch."

"How magnanimous of you."

15 minute later we were sitting in my office's round table. Drake was unpacking the lunch Winter brought. As I guessed he was killing time at coffee shop close by and face timing his wife. No doubt both were amusing themselves at our expense.

A knock at the door preceded Allister coming in with a covered rolling cart.

"Lady Acker, Mr. Furrow." The way Allister said Drake's name expressed his exasperation so clearly, I had to turn my face toward the windows, or I would let the snort go. It did not help that he maintained a neutral face expression.

"I missed you too Old man." Is it a wonder these two never got along?

After Allister take care of the placement of my meal- today it's zucchini pasta with a Bolognese sauce, accompanied by an avocado, pomegranate and feta cheese salad- he leaves the room silently.

I try hard to concentrate on the food, but every move Drake make draws my eyes helplessly toward him. When he brings out the last dish from the carry-on winter handed him, the display makes me inwardly cringe, on the surface I only cock my head to the side. He catches the move and stop arranging the feast he brought -are those three whole corns- to look at me, and I stare back.

"What? I am a growing boy."

Boy my …Ugh. "Tell me you are burning this somewhere?"

"Of course." He says before he bites into a lobster roll. He voiced it as if it were an insult to even question his exercise habits. "And you know that better than anyone."

It took considerable effort to not roll my eyes at the cocky reply. I turn back toward my meal and concentrate on forking the zucchini pasta.

We eat in a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's company, with Drake indulging himself in enough food to feed an army. And me shewing each small bite thoroughly.

"Are you going to lick that?" The question breaks the silence and takes my attention from the salad I moved to after finishing the pasta.

"Hmm?" I make the non-comical sound, while giving him a questioning look.

"You have something here?" He points at the corner of his own mouth with the index of his left hand.

"Wait I'll get it for you." He makes a move to stand but before he gets to do anything, I bring my napkin to my mouth and sweep the whole chin area with it.

He freezes mid stand when I finish and narrows his eyes at me. I see him rein in his temper and I fight a laugh to the point I feel my eyes water. I blink rapidly to get rid of the moisture and clear my throat.

A small smile stretches his lips at my reaction, and he shakes his head. After he regains his seat, he takes out another container. When he opens it the smell of spice and meat perfumes the air around us my eyes zero in on the source and a sound of outrage intentionally leave me.

"Is that spiced potato purée with bacon?"

"Yes. You're favorite." He shows me the content. Gooey spiced potato purée and crispy chunks of bacon greets me.

"How dare you, I can't eat carbs. And neither should you by the way. How much more are you going to add?"

"First, I missed your nagging--

"I don't nag." I scoff at that.

"– second, why can't you eat carbs?" I freeze at the question.

A swear word would really be helpful now. the blunder was so foreign to me it took a few costly seconds to get my bearing. "I am following a Keto Diets." I try to mask it with my rehashed answer, but I know the damage was done. Only Drake had the ability to elicit outburst from me, and what a way to do it. Potato puree.

"Don't, you're lying to me. Why?" The question had an undercurrent of hurt. As if I wanted to hurt him, as if I he meant nothing to me. Stupid Drake.

"I am not lying."

"Maybe, but you're not telling me everything." After a silent moment where we lock eyes, he asks hesitantly. "Does it have anything to do with you going to the hospital last night?"

"Drop it Drake." I push the salad aside losing all appetite. Only you Drake, only you.

"No tell me."

"What does it matter if I am not eating carbs or not. I am following a diet to keep fit that all."

"It matters because, this dish it's your favorite. your mom used to make it you always loved. I was jealous of it. Fucking potato mash always hogging your attention."

"Oh, for god's sake." I stand and go toward the picture window. He had a point I loved the recipe. It was maman's signature dish. It always reminded me of better days. Days when she was still alive and whole.

"Tell me baby, I won't drop it. You know me." The statement is voiced as he comes up behind.

"I will tell you. But on one condition."

"This is your health we are talking about. There is no negotiation. Fucking tell—

"Marry me."

At my announcement he stays frozen for a few seconds, then he takes out his phone from his pocket.

"You didn't even wash your hands." He shoots me glare, and I cock my eyebrow at him. Hygiene is important after all.

"Winter, get Rick on standby with the jet we are leaving ahead of schedule."

"You were going somewhere?" I ask after he pocketed his phone.

"We were, but now we are going right this instant."

"We are?"

"Did you really think this day was going to end without at least my ring on your finger?"

I feel my face soften with a smile. "Only you drake only you."

he goes back to his briefcase and take out a small box from it.

"I told you to wash your hands."

"Stop nagging."

"I do not nag, and if you want to put that anywhere near my fingers you better wash those hands."

"FINE! Bathroom?!"

I raise I chin toward the right where a double door leads to the attached bathroom.

"Fucking OCD." He declares as he heads toward the double door.

"It's not OCD."

He comes out after a few minutes to show me his hands. "Happy?"

"Don't be dramatic."

"I'll show you drama, finger."

"What am I? A dog…You first."

"Grrr."

He presents to me his left hand and I draw the ring I had custom made from my pocket to slide on his ring finger. Perfect. The black diamonds embedded on the platinum tick masculine band compliments his skin tone just as I had imagined. The size is also spot on.

"How long have you had this with you?" he asks, stroking his fingers on the band. The look on his face was nothing short of smug.

"Maybe, as long as you did… Your turn."

He takes the small black box from his pocket and pluck out the biggest diamond ring I had ever seen. Solitary with a vintage tick white gold band carved artfully with tiny leaves.

"What am I going to do with that? Flash the world." I might say that but I my eyes and the fingers of my right hand have already shown their utter devotion to the ring.

"We both know you love it."

"Hmph." He knew me so well.

"And the whole world will know you are MINE."

"More like the whole universe."

"Now off to Vegas."

"You won't regret it?"

""Even after all this you still want to get to know me?" Right?" The words I had told him on our first real conversation sober the moment a few degrees.

"I had hoped this lunch would end differently than our first one." My smile is sad and brittle. He knows as much as I do what I am talking about.

He stares at me for a long while before he extends his arms and steps toward me carefully. "May I, please."

It was like a faucet that had frozen by the touches of winter, felt the first kisses of spring. The torrents of emotion push me to launch myself at him and at last we are In each other embraces.

"God, I fucking missed you." He punctures his point by hugging me tightly hands roaming, all the while peppering kisses on my face.

When we at last lock our lips in a searing kiss, the moans and groans that comes out of us can only described as savage.

"Don't do this to us again baby. I love you, fucking love you." he keeps on chanting the bone rattling words all the while kissing me.

"You know why I did that. I had no choice." The words are panted from me, the need to have his mouth on me beating the need of oxygen to breath. He was my oxygen.

"I don't care. I was dying baby. DYING!!"

We pause still clutching each other, in a panting breathless mess. Our forehead connects and I tell him what I wanted to say since I ambushed him in that elevator.

"Now you are going to be mine forever." I look into his eyes, and they glint down at me.

"Fuck yeah!" the ferocity of his growl makes tingle dance all over my body.

"And Drake."

"Baby…?"

"I love you more."

Drake.

12 years ago, Birmingham England.

Well at least the food looks good here too. One thing can be said about this school the money they charge is used to get the good stuff.

As I make my way down the line, I catalogue the rows of meal plates. My stomach growls drawing the attention of couple of giggling girls. Everything from loaded meat pies to rice pudding was displayed on stainless steel dishware. Men and women in white aprons and green plastic hair cap were manning the station. All of them had plastic gloves and were brandishing ladles with which they scooped the food into the students' plastics trays. Ahead of the giggling duo sounds of complain rise and pick my interest from the food.

Close to the cash out a small fella with stooped shoulders and thin almost skeletal frame stood counting pennies. The kid was bombarded by complains from not only nearby students but also the lady in charge of the cashier. "Kid I haven't got all day."

"That why poor people have no place here." Those words came from one of the previously giggling girls.

"So, what if he has brains, it can only get you so far." Said the other.

At that point, the kid was full on trembling and was close to spiling the content he had in his hand all over the floor. And that would make a spectacle of the situation even more than it already was.

My hands were clenching on the plastic tray I was holding and my whole body was vibrating with barely leached fury at these pompous fuckers. At that moment I don't know what made me look to the left but when I did my eyes snagged on those of none other than Jack-line Acker.

She was sitting alone in a table a knife and fork poised in her hand and she was looking straight at me. Not at the disgusting scene that drew the attention of the cafeteria hall. But at me. In her multicolored eyes there was like an unspoken message. No, commend. As if she wanted me to do something and stop this nonsense. As if it was my duty to do it.

And by God I felt like it was. She made me feel like it was.

Fuck! I broke the unnerving eye contact and locked my body less I do something stupid. I did not come here to be some dumb hero and I did not come here to do the biding of what I started to view as the dark queen.

Not soon enough, the kid paid the cashier and hurried outside the hall mocking sounds and looks following behind him.

When it was my turn to choose, I took the least complicated meal, fish and ships and then turned towards the rows of table trying to spot an empty one. At first, I did not care much when I had heard that the A section and B section did not share the same cafeteria, but now it sucked balls. I knew practically no one in here and after the early shit I saw, sitting with the stuck-up brainy snob appealed as much as the haggis I pretended to eat at breakfast.

I scan the tables occupants and my eyes caught again on the familiar figure who sat alone in a table close to the picture windows in the far left.

I debate my action for a few seconds, but I knew it was now or never. It was high time I start to picture this girl like the mission she was. Although it was very earlier in the game, if I did not take this chance who knows when I would be able to talk to her again.

All morning I tried to explain my reaction to her as a fluke, no way was I that attuned to someone I only met. Plus, it had been a while since I hooked up with anyone, surely my body's reaction toward her can be explained as purely chemical.

Still, whenever we were in the same space my anatomy told my logic to shove it.

In class I tried my best to view her as another target. I tried to analyze her behavior, catalogue her surrounding and allies. To achieve that I tried to sit close to her in class.

The first session, I arrived late. In my mind I had the idea that since she was part of the A section, she will follow the script of the other and be there before the teacher arrives. I was wrong.

She instead did the unthinkable and came just as the lesson was wrapping up, and only to take some books she seemed to have left behind. At that point I was ready to send an SOS to Winter via text. I mean before I was transferred here this morning, we made sure to get her full schedule. And although I had not caught even a glimpse of her the first sessions, I concluded that she was again absent. But I had seen her at the locker's hallway. I made a fool of myself in front of her for God's sake.

To top it all off, the rest of the other morning class she was no show.

So yeah, it was now or never.

Chew slowly. Don't rush. Breathe in breath out. Back straight, don't hunch. Do not show your pain.

God this meat pie will be the death of me, not my broken ribs.

Maybe if I try hard enough, I can picture the potato purée maman used to make for us. But alas it has never been my fort to escape reality.

As I raise another piece of the pie toward my mouth I think back to Oswald. The only reason why I choose this dish was because I knew he had me watched inside the school. If I picked something I liked, he'll make sure to use that against me somehow the same way he did with hot water.

Suddenly my musing is interrupted by a dark shadow who way holding a tray from which a savory smell came off.

I look up, up and up only to have my eyes clashes with the ice blue gaze of none other than, what was his name again…

"Mr. Furrow?"

Without any prompt he unceremoniously places his food tray on the table and take a seat opposite me. A hush falls on the cafeteria hall upon the bold move but after a beat the background noise resumes. No one would dare engage her in any manner. Except this one.

"I don't think I gave you permission to sit, Mr. Furrow."

A snort escapes him as he starts to chew on his food. So much grease but… I want one.

"So what? Are the seats called for now? And its Drake, Mr. Furrow is dead" he says between bites.

"No Mr. Drake Furrow. but it is good manner to ask before joining another in a table."

He narrows his eyes at the use of his full name and speaks. "Your manners…" He points at me using a ship. "…not mine"

"I see." I resume my painful --Deep breaths, ignore the pain. -- eating, and after a beat I even forget that he is siting opposite me.

"What was with that look?" His question reminds me of his presence, and I conceal a sigh. Can't a girl eat in peace while her ribs are broken?

"Pardon?"

"The one you gave me out there. If you wanted to help that kid do it yourself, don't expect me to do it for you."

"I have not the slightest idea what you mean." It really did take a moment for me to connect his words and make sense of them.

"You looked at me like you wanted me to do something." He continues.

Ah, yes! True, I did look at him and I did try to urge him to act. But I did not hold any hope that he would do anything for the young kid. Not like I will share that with him.

"It true that I when looked up in the middle of the thoughtful chewing of my food my eye clashed with yours. However, for you to conclude that I somehow wanted you to charge to the rescue of that fellow student. Well, it is quite presumptuous of you."

"Do you always speak like that?"

I cock my head to the left. "Like what?"

"Like you are in a theater stage." He explains with a dramatic flair of his head. "And just so know your British accent sucks." Hmm, is he trying to make me mad?

"Well, I am not British." I point out the obvious.

"Then why do you try to speak like one."

"It's the only English I have been exposed to." Truth.

"Fair enough." He makes a humming sound and nods his head before he says that. Weirdly the action does not upset or get a rise at me on the contrary it … it amuses me. Fascinating.

"That stuff looks like shit." He abruptly comments while his face takes on a sour air.

"Hmm?"

"Your food, it looks like…" he grimaces more as he tries to find another word to describe it.

"--Thank you for the first visual." I interrupt.

"Fuck you are doing it again." He burst out suddenly.

"Doing what?" This guy is all over the place.

"This is not why I sat with you here." Well of course it was not. "I Thought I'll get to know you better since you seemed to be the only decent person around."

"Huh."

"Look…" he exhales a harsh laugh. "I am new in this section just enrolled this morning and you are the first person who I thought was nice."

"Nice?" I raise I eyebrow at that word. It has been a while since it described anything I did.

"Well, you helped me with my stuff this morning."

Again, it takes a moment for me to make sense of what he had just said. Not only because of the pain in my ribs, which had become unbearable the more I kept this ramrod straight sitting position. But also, because… "I had not seen this coming at all." Which I tell him so almost absently.

"What? What did you not see coming?" While continuing to shove grease and fries into his mouth. A change in diet is in order.

"Well, you." The truth is much crueler than the lies.

Suddenly, a commotion arises outside the cafeteria. Students start to leave their table to look via the windows. Others exits the premise after exclaiming a harsh sound of horror, only to be followed by others.

Abruptly a female scream resounds all around us, prompting all the rest of the hall occupants to scramble and leave from the nearest exits.

"What the fuck?" Drake exclaims, as he too stands up from his seat.

"You did it again your majesty and it only took a week this time." Those damning words comes from none other than Johnathan Vale. The model pretty boy was an honest to God son of an earl. But at the bottom he remains only a wretched soul.

"Did what?" Drake asks him.

"Hey new guy I saw your results this morning good performance. It saved you but took out from our fun."

"What?" Does he only know that word?

"If only you were there, the kid just up and splashed from the rooftop." As a descriptive mean, Johnathan takes a spoon from a nearby table and drop it in the floor. As if I needed the throughout reenacting.

"The hell." Again, Drakes exclaims, this time lunging towards the nearest windows.

"Is he dead?" I ask Johnathan, speaking for the first time since the commotion started and drawing Drake's attention towards me.

"No just unconscious, as I said he splashed hah, he fell right in the middle of the pool."

"Alright.." (Pardonne- moi Maman.) Forgive me mother.

"You were in on this shit?" The question seems to be crock out of Drake. His face drawn into a horrified expression, as he stares at me. Last, I remember there was no mention of any crime.

"Well, we have to make do with the limited fun we have here mate." Josh adds oh so helpfully.

"That what a dickhead would say, and I am not your mate." Drake growls.

"Stop." I say to Josh before he starts any come back. This need to stop before it escalates, and I am too tired to engage in anymore witty banter. "let's end this, if the kid is still alive there is a chance his scholarship will be taken. Make sure of it." Josh nods and exits with those words, leaving me alone again with Drake.

"And you, Mr. Drake Furrow." I stand slowly not only because of the pain but also to make the most impact with my words. And I do get the sought-out reaction from the tensing of Drake's shoulder and the narrowing of his eyes.

"Duncan needed to give you more information on your current target." His gasp would have made me smile if I wasn't so tired. As it is It just made me sigh.

"What do you mean?" His attempt at nonchalance was truly master perfect. His face was genuinely showing a curious and perplexed expressions. Still, I only raise my eyebrows at his attempt of denial, not even gracing it with an answer. I mean really. And as I predicted the mask falls, making place to an ice-cold gaze and a hard-unreadable face. "When did you figure it out."

"Much earlier than you did." I round the table and stand a few feet from him.

"What now?" He asks, his ice blue eyes tracking my every movement, like the predator I knew of him. In our world age did not matter at all.

"Now well…" I make a small show of thinking it out. "Ah! You figure out, if after all this…" I make a small circle with my index, figuratively encompassing the recent events. "…you still want to get to really know me."

"Know you?" He narrows his eyes and take a step toward me, but stops, when he hears the siren of the ambulance that is surely coming for the boy.

I give him a small, tired smile, when his attention comes back to me. "Enjoy the rest of your day Mr. Drake Furrow."

"Here she is." Oswald Acker, 56 years old but looking a decade older came toward me as I cross the hall toward my assigned bedroom, in his mansion.

He was a small man with a too pale skin tone. His dark hair was thinning and turning completely grey in some parts of his scalp. He noticeably had an A shape. Small shoulders with a bulging middle part and shorts legs. If anybody met him for the first time, they would never reconcile him with the sick killer he was. That is, until he spoke in that weirdly effeminate and extremely cultured British accent.

He come out of the house dining room, and I cringe as the smell of his cologne and cigar aroma wafts to me. How my beautiful fragile mother ever had a relationship with him is beyond me.

"Good evening, sir." I tell myself to breath, to not show him the pain and exhaustion. This will end quicker if I stay as neutral as possible. I knew he would have heard by now. The old crapaud – with all due respect to all the amphibians out there- has eyes and ears in every corner of that school.

"It is a good evening darling." I fight a shiver of repulse at the endearment. "Come, I have a surprise for you." He extends a hand in the direction of the dining room. At his nods Alister his personal butler comes and takes my messenger bag from me. As he does our eyes make contact, and what I see there does not reassures me.

Oswald likes to think that all his personal are loyal and true to him, because of the fear he installed in them, but he does not realize that there were some who transformed that fear into a cold calculating fury meant to slowly destroy him from the inside. And until then, small gestures like eye contact, remains the only way this silent army communicates. Even when apparently, we are celebrating something.

Through the dining room door, the massive rectangular cherry wood table can be seen sporting enough food and drinks to feed a small army of well-built soldiers. Candles have been lit and the rest of the house's personal are standing appearing ready and waiting to serve.

The bad feeling, I had just as I saw Oswald in the hallway intensify and it grow fiercer as he take his seat at the opposite end of the table. The chimney fire which has been lit was roaring and dancing behind his chair making seen exactly like the devil he was. I bet he did that on purpose.

"Tada!" Oswald exclaims. "What do you think darling?" He asks me with his fake defenseless smile beaming at me. As if there could be another answer to that question. Especially when it came from the devil.

"You shouldn't have." I say as Allister comes back and incline his head toward the other and only remaining chair, which was at the head of the other end.

"Of course, I should darling. You know how much it pleases me when you make me proud" he says as I carefully sit on the chair before Allister adjust it. And as expected, the crapaud notices the care I use with my ribs. "You also know very well unfortunately how it I react to displeasure too, hmm?"

By now, I am very much used to his snide remarks, so a reminder of how he let his lackey hurt me is not that shocking anymore. Therefore, I maintain my neutral face and voice as I answer him. "Yes sir." Server's start dishing plate of food and filling glasses with water for me and red wine for Oswald. "But still, a doctor will be coming after dinner, alright? Be ready he will be seeing to you in the drawing room."

Again, I only acquiesce. "Yes sir."

"So, on a better note I have asked them to make your favorites. After all we are celebrating!" He chuckles as he raises his glass of wine for a cheer, and I do the same with my glass of water. This is diplomacy at its finest. "You, have made me so proud, today." He sips a little bit from his drink before he continues. "I just received a phone call…" He extends the word "call" to sound like "caaalll". "…from, the legal representing of the family who stoop up against me in my noble quest of acquiring the retail right of their house, and land," Nobel my… Breathe. "…and they have accepted to sell." He finishes with a disgusting shimmy and shrill voice.

"I have to admit that when you first told me you would get me that sell's agreement, I was quite skeptical." He frowns his eyebrow into a mock scowl and jiggles his head. "But, in only a few days you made the family who was standing in my way of buying the whole parcel of houses on that street to agree.

"In the beginning, I did not know what you were going to do or what could you use to make it happen, but then I understood; family, the only thing that really matters. You used the love they had for their boy as a mean to get me what I desired." He pauses and sigh almost contentedly. "And for that my darling I am impressed and proud."

"Tonight, is for you eat drink and take care of yourself I will be needing more of your wits in the future, darling." He finishes with a chuckle.

Throughout his monologue I remained silent only acquiescing when addressed to. Because although he seemed to be in a festive mood, this man has in uncountable occasions shown the unpredictability of his temper. He was the type to sit with you and jocks about mundane things and then suddenly pin your hand to a wooden table using the fork with which he was eating cut fruits. And, when asked why? The answer is always: "Just because."

Few minutes into the dinner, Willem Oswald's other trusted goon comes into the room, -- because of course Rick would not be available since he was recuperating from having both his legs broken—without any acknowledgement to the other room occupants, he bends and whisper word into his boss's ear. No reaction or change appears on Oswald's demeanor at the newcomer behavior, nor does he stop forking and eating the food on his plate. Still, I inwardly tense in preparation of whatever he might do.

When at last Willem finish his whispering, there is still no change in Oswald. But suddenly, he stops eating. Fork and knife clattering on the plate he rises from his seat not even waiting for Allister to help him and as he does the whole room tense from the change in his state. Still, I continue as if nothing happens, forking the salad and pieces of vegetable like nothing is amiss, all the while keeping a covert look on him.

"Darling the doctor has arrived I want you to go freshen up before he sees you." His words come as he makes his way toward to double door of the dining room, the cheer always in his tone." I have matters to take care of with Willem."

"Oh! I almost forgot." He exclaims turning to look at me. "Darling after the doctor's visit you might need to speak with your sisters, I'll have the phone prepared, or is it already?" The question is addressed to Allister, who inclines his head and voice a "Yes my lord." In response.

"Is something amiss with my sisters?" The pain in my ribs that was manageable until now becomes unbearable from the force of my heartbeats, but neither my voice nor face betray it. They can never betray it.

"Oh no nothing is amiss with little ones, don't worry Darling, but… your mother is dead." No, infliction or change in tone colors his voice and because of that the meaning of his words takes a moment to register.

I continue to look into his eyes understanding that this was not one of his merciless farces, no, this was one of the rarest moments where he has uttered complete truth. My mother was dead. Maman! "I see." Maman! Maman! My voice doesn't change either and a cold numbness spread through my body starting from my heart. You see! What do you see! You ungrateful monster! Maman!

As the coldness continue its journey from my slowly beating heart, my eyes --which have the same unique characteristic as my mother's-- weirdly get drawn to the meat pie. The same disgusting loaded meat pie I had at lunch, and I signal to one of the servers to give me a slice.

"Are you still hungry darling?" Oswald question with a raised bushy grey brow.

"Famished. As soon as I finish, I will go refresh myself to see the doctor. Thank you for that and for the phone call, I appreciate your generosity, sir." I smile and incline my head, not sure where the words come from. Or how I find the strength to even smile. But I do and I embrace this newfound force. Embrace it and use it to keep the smile on my face, until he steps out of the room with his subordinate.

"Hmm, well then have a good night."

"You too, sir."

Later that evening as I sit on the bed and grip the burner phone I found, I take a deep breath, too numb to feel the pain in my ribs and dial the only number programmed inside the log. I wait for the gruff voice of the guard in charge of where my sisters are kept, to respond. When he does, he -as always- only says a single sentence "15 minutes."

And in those 15 min where I hear the quiet sniffles of my siblings I swear, no vow: Oswald Acker will fucking die.