Mist of invention

Part eight

The abyss. His words kept on repeating in my head. Your friend is dead. She wasn't, not yet. Of that I was certain. The prove left behind on the cold floor of the creatures cell.
It probably was a mistake to leave the stones there, but I couldn't resist the temptation.
He was scared of them. So I left them as a punishment. A clear cause and effect situation. I may need him, but I didn't have to like him. And if I would be agonizing me every step of the way, I would do the same.
Even on the walk up the stairs, back to my room, the cold didn't seem to leave me alone. Darkness crawled forth in my bones and refusing to stay down in the cellar, where it belonged.
My room was a welkome respite from the open hall. Public places where everyone could see me in my disarrayed state. Only in my head, mind you, I wouldn't let anything show in my posture.
But a weakness was a weakness. And I couldn't afford that now. Not when the plan was finally in motion, not when I was scrutinized by everyone, and not when the main characters were finally gaining awareness of the game.
I dropped myself onto my bed. Lord Faulkner should be getting sweaty by now. I should up the threat level, leave an other letter or so. I couldn't let him escape my grasp.
Faulkner was currently my only link to Lisa. Lisa, dear Lisa. Too smart for her own good and still, she was the one I considered my best friend. Still consider. Even when she probably hates me. Probably, certainly.
I lifted my arm up, and turned my hand around. This way, that way.
Everyone has a roll to play. Five fingers on my hand. Five players in my palm.
Lisa would certainly hate me.
As I had tried to kill her.