The Boy Who Could Not Die

Chapter 33

Light is starting to creep through the window again. It's morning, but I don't know which morning it is. The guard's there, too. I guess he takes the night shifts.

Simon didn't show up yesterday. Maybe he couldn't handle it, or maybe I'm just less important than some random mission. Probably the latter.

I sit up and push myself over to the wall. I sigh of relief and lean against it. My chest is feeling better, at least.

I touch the side of my head. My face is still sticky and my hair is matted with blood. Disgusting.

"Good. You're awake."

I look up. No one's there except for the guard. He isn't looking at me, but I know he's talking to me.

"I think you should eat something," he says.

I cast a sideways glance at the food and the water sitting next to the door. It's starting to smell. I look back at the guard, saying nothing.

The guard sighs. "Look, I've been doing this for many, many years, and I've seen it all. Things you can't even imagine. If you wanna fight, that's not my business. But you're gonna need your strength."

I observe him. He's been staring at the wall intensely the whole time. Then, I croak: "Why do you even care?"

The guard presses his fingers to his temples. "I have a son your age. I've heard about what you can do and you definitely don't deserve a chance, but it's difficult, as a parent."

I roll my eyes. Is this some kind of reverse-psychology shit? Convince me to eat so I can live longer and they'll get more answers out of me?

Just as I'm about to decide what to do, I hear a door opening. The guard looks down and mutters: "Too late."

Simon is entering the hall with another guard and someone I can't see yet. I hear him say: "Right this way, madam."

The guard looks up and greets the group formally.

"Come with me, John." Simon flicks at the other guard, telling him to stay where the first guard—John, I guess—had his post.

I mean, it makes sense why they chose him: he looks beefier than the other guard, but also more worn-out. He's seen things. He's tired, like me.

But he's also Willow Corp. scum.

John enters first, focusing on the room around me instead of me. Then, Simon enters. Other than the faint grin he wears that doesn't spread to his eyes, he has no tells of emotion. Then, he turns around and a third person enters.

I recognize her as soon as she lays eyes on me. Her black hair is thinned and gray now, and her eyes are even more sunken in and lifeless than I remember them.

chookchookchookchookchookchookchookchookchookchookchookchook

I move quickly to the corner opposite of the nurse. I didn't even realize that I was moving. What am I doing?

"Stay away from me," I shout, and the effort makes me cough a little bit.

Simon laughs. "A weakling and a coward. I expected more of you, Nathan."

It doesn't matter what he says or does. I won't take my eyes off the nurse.

"Go greet Ms. Jaclyn," Simon says in a teasing tone.

When I stay in the same spot, Simon stops smiling. "What did I say?"

I want to resist his orders more than anything. I wish I could stop myself even more than I wish I could slit his throat. But, before I know it, I'm standing, leaning against the wall for support, and slowly making my way towards them.