Page 7 of A Taste Of Truth
Eventually the realisation dawns and I answer my own question. “Malachi?”
“Malachi.”
I still don’t understand what that means. Didn’t in that room earlier, and I don’t in this cold wind either. I can’t help with Malachi. Who could? He’s an enigma, a man who seems part in control of everything and yet is ready to take his own life, for what? It makes no sense to me, and, regardless of my earlier childish thoughts, and this continuing sadness that sweeps every single fucking time I think about him, there’s nothing I can do about that.
In fact, I shouldn’t
“I’m no one to him. He needs a physc analysis, not me,” I reply, looking out at the snow. “That man is a freak.”
“No, he just can’t see straight. Which is partly my fault. You couldn’t if you were him either.”
“Can’t see straight? What the hell in this life has he got to be so diagonal about?”
“The spin of the world, Alice. Being mercenary can be confusing. Especially to someone with a soul as good as his probably is.” Not convinced about that last part. “He needs normal, Alice. You’re all he’s got.”
My head flies around, part annoyed at the term being thrown my way so succinctly. “Normal?”
“Yes. Average. Moneyless. Blue collar. Below his commonplace.”
If I wasn’t offended before with just normal, I certainly am now. “Rude?”
He smirks, eyes crinkling at my attitude, as if a smart smack to my face might make me shut up and play nice little girl. It wouldn’t. “Not a lie, though, is it, Alice?”
I still haven’t even got words for how condescending that sounds. What did I expect, though? Privilege and wealth seems to come with a licence to demean those around them wherever you are in life. Why would here be any different?
Huffing, I glare out at the snow and think of who I used to be before this life I’m in took over. I wouldn’t bow down then either, but then maybe I wasn’t ready for the world and all that came with it until it happened. I was young before that, foolish. Life seemed a wonder of possibilities and revelations, all of them wrapped up in dreams and fun. I’ve now got nowhere near those dreams because of my actions. Who knew how evil the world could be? How it could turn naivety into something I wish I hadn’t been destined for? A young me certainly didn’t.
He fucking deserved it, though.
“Put the knife away. You don’t need it with me, Alice.” I look back at Gray, watch as he chuckles at my grip still clasped around the small letter opener. “Although, I suppose you might need it with him. Keep it handy.”
Probably true, and yet I’m still contemplating the thought of staying. Not only because I need a plane to leave but because this fucking feeling of sadness won’t leave me. It ebbs and flows in waves, pulling me back to a room and a man who should mean nothing.
“If you do this, I’ll get you back to New York safe and unharmed,” he says.
Unharmed?
I laugh and look back along the tunnel passed him, considering that word as far as Malachi is concerned. “He doesn’t know what safe is, Gray. And he sure as shit doesn’t give a damn for harm or not, as proved by him forcing god knows what down my throat and his two attempted suicides.”
“Four.”
“What?”
“Four attempts. That I know of. Could be more.” My eyes widen. “But I’ve brought him back four times. I don’t want to have to do it again. This is his last chance before I have him committed.”
My frown drops, thoughts of what that would mean to someone like Malachi. And then I realise that unless I’m very much mistaken, they look nothing like each other, which means he isn’t related and therefore couldn’t even if he wanted to. Unless he actually is his doctor. Which proves a worrisome situation that he would ever be somewhere like this in the first place.
“Are you his doctor?”
“No.”
“Then how could you do that?”
“It’s good to know somebody doesn’t recognise me. I thought most people did by now.” No, he means nothing other than reasonably attractive and in front of my face. Although, there’s that smile again, reminding me of something.
“Why should I recognise you?”
“That doesn’t matter.”