Witness

25. Chelsea

Tony Mierro is sitting on Damien's sofa holding a clump of human hair. 

He is sitting on the sofa holding a clump of human hair. 

Vik's hand against my back makes me jump out of my own skin. 

"Jones, get in here," Damien orders. 

Tony glares at me, hand squeezing around - that. 

"Hi," I say. 

Damien looks at my outfit - denim overalls, flowery shirt, muddy doc martin boots - and lets his lip turn down. It's not like I usually dress up for him, just jeans and a t-shirt, but I do try and dress down the crazy every Friday. 

Not that this outfit is particularly out there, but okay, noted: Damien doesn't like the unusual outfits. 

"Is she-" 

"You don't talk," Damien grunts, pointing at Tony, who opens his mouth. "Ever." 

Vik stands next to me like a bodyguard, arms crossed over his chest and everything. I lean into him as Damien and Tony begin quietly arguing with each other. 

"What's with the hair?" I whisper. 

"I have no idea," he answers just as quietly, accent as thick as ever. 

Well. That makes it worse. 

"So," Damien says, looking at each of us individually. Only the four of us are in the room. There are no young boys, no scared staff, not even a remnant or scuff mark on the neatly polished floor. "We have a problem." 

"It isn't a-" Tony begins. 

"Ever." 

Tony's eyes blow wide. He goes red in the face, and even as I expect him to explode, he remains relatively calm. He doesn't shout back or argue, at least. 

That's how I know it's bad.

"It's a problem because I say it's a problem," Damien grits. "The dead man who isn't dead is a problem. Should we try and work out why he's still breathing?"

Tony says nothing. 

"And where have you been?" 

My heart stops. He's looking at me. They're all looking at me. 

Round, beady eyes. 

"Me?" 

Damien rolls his tongue over his teeth without opening his mouth. It looks like a snake behind his lips, pressed together so tightly so that it doesn't escape. I swallow my nerves. This is Damien. Scary, big bad wolf, Damien - who thinks I'm funny and likes having me around. Nothing to worry about. Definitely not. 

"You. Where were you?" 

"The... farmers... market?"

He doesn't look amused today, though. 

"Don't make me ask a third time." 

This time I don't swallow my nerves; I just swallow. 

"I was-" 

"Does this matter?" Tony asks abruptly. 

The electricity in the room wraps around my throat. All air left must whoosh out under the door door, because suddenly, my breath is gone. 

All I can do is watch as Damien pulls out that ever familiar gun and aims it at his brothers chest. 

I can taste the metal in my mouth all over again. It floods my senses like water.