It’s not going to be easy to try to vocalize what I need when I can only lie or speak in questions, but I can make it work.. I’ve found my feet, and I’m sure I can weave my way through negotiations with the ancient man if I have to.
The metaphor rolls oddly around my mind, the Americanism harsh against my thoughts. But that’s what I’ve got to get used to from now on. I’ve left good old England behind and removed any temptation to walk into a former accomplice’s business and ask for help. I’m alone in unfamiliar territory. I have to, want to, do this properly.
I wanted my proximity to communicate how sorry I was. Yes, I’d had the unspoken conversation with her over and over again in my head, but I felt like I actually needed to be in the same room as her once again. It oddly made me feel like she might hear me, forgive me. Yet, I didn’t know if it was okay. Should a killer attend the funeral of the person they murdered? Was it really the done thing?
I haven’t mastered walking on wooden floors. There always seems to be that one squeaky board in every home intent on blowing my cover. I haphazardly step on it, causing a noise that might as well be an air horn in this quiet room.
I snorted in derision. Mortals are so stupid and can be extremely predictable. His hatred for me fueled my being as if he’d plugged me into an outlet for god power. I looked over at Hatred in the car. Her face was glued to me, and her nose almost touched the glass. She smiled, breathing heavily, and fogged the glass with every exhale.
“Why the fuck are you like this? How’d you become the bad guy, Jus?” He was crying. Not sobbing, but his face was wet with tears, snot easing steadily out of his nose. “In school, you were our defender. You kept the bullies away. Now you are the bully.”
Funny how you just never know what’s really in a book until you crack it open and look inside. Bob was just like that. He was a gentle giant, a hard worker, a good husband, and a father. He’s going to need more than his strength alone to fix this situation.