Page 42 of Reckoning

I roll my sleeve down quickly, hiding those tiny round scars that the nurse openly gawped at before she collected herself.

“We’ll have the results in a few days.” She says like I care.

Hastings has already told me what they’ll be. That they’ll come back negative. And I already know that I’ve not used anything, that my system is clear so all is this is simply a tick box exercise, a way to keep all those people vying for my blood happy.

But I’m done, done for another month.

The car is waiting for me right outside the clinic. I secure my sunglasses, step out, and an onslaught of paparazzi snap away like this is the highlight of their damned week.

It takes all my effort to push past. Even my security struggle to hold them back as they jostle for the perfect picture.

My chest seems to close up, my body starts to shake. I clench my fists, forcing myself to move, to keep going. I can’t have a panic attack now, I can’t fall apart in front of these vultures. They won’t see it as a sign that I’m human, they’ll see it as weakness, failure, another thing to taunt and humiliate me for.

It feels like I’m climbing a mountain, it feels like I’m wadding through quicksand and I can’t get free. The car is barely five metres away but every step feels like a thousand.

Once I’m inside, once the doors are locked and we’re driving away, I give in, I collapse, shutting my eyes, palming my face, and all that fear, all that panic consumes me like a raging fire and I can’t put it out.

I can’t stop it.

I can’t do anything but let it burn me.

When we pull up outside my lawyers office, I’m in no fit state for anything. Once more I have to fight my way through an army’s worth of press.

You’d think they’d have a more private entrance but I guess they gain from this too. They’re the best in the city. Roman instructed them on my behalf.

As I sit one side of a massive, wooden conference table, they lay out all documents, all the papers, everything for this damned case. All of this feels like a farce, a complete and utter waste of my time.

I’ve stated over and over again that I want nothing to do with this. I’ve told them I don’t even want to be present but I don’t have any choice. I’ve been subpoenaed, and apparently if I don’t show I’ll be held in contempt of court.

The judges are determined to have this play out. The city wants its circus and who am I to deny them?

Koen

It’s that last breath. That last intake of air.

That’s what does it. That’s what eases the fury inside me.

Not their pain – although that certainly helps. No, it’s knowing that he’ll never move, never breathe, never do anything ever again.

I watch as his body is cut down, as he lands in a heap of broken bones and blood.

He lasted far longer than Danny. Turns out he had more stamina.

When the men start hauling him away, I stop them. I don’t want him to burn, I want him to be a message. A warning.

He’s unceremoniously chucked into a van. Only Colt and I take the journey, driving out past the bright city lights and the streets full of happy, smiling people, and we pull up to the derelict, boarded up remains of what was the new Barn.

It feels like poetic justice to leave Christian hanging here. Afterall, he didn’t just take from Sofia, he didn’t just rape and abuse her. He got more, took more, stole more.

Two people died for Christian to live. Two people had their organs removed and transplanted so that he could continue his life of partying and drugs.

Those who know will make the connection. Those who know will realise exactly what this means; that this isn’t over. That none of this is over. They want to play games, they want to try and come for Sofia, then fine, I’m ready for them. By leaving Christian like this, they’ll realise that they’ve got a far bigger fight on their hands. They might see her as an easy target but after tonight they’ll know she’s anything but.

I drag his corpse from the van, drag him through the dirt, right up to the front gates. Together Colt and I strap him to it, securing his arms so that he’s practically crucified. Then I take my knife, cut into his chest, removing the heart that wasn’t his, removing the liver too.

I leave them both on the ground at his feet.

And then I turn around, step back, admire my handiwork.