Trying To Heal

Chapter Twelve

Derek Matthews

The authorities are actively hunting for the sadistic criminal who cut out fifteen male eyes and cut off fifteen male hands. They connected barbarism with the recent housefires. Several of these boys are in critical condition, with many paralysed and psychologically damaged. Some of their parents — who may I remind again helped their sons to not pay for their actions — are suffering from third-degree burns.

I find Tanner in the library, finishing his homework. I hesitate at the door; sit opposite to him. "You committed arson." It was our first conversation in two weeks.

"Mhm," he mumble carelessly, as if it was nothing.

"Did anyone help you?"

"No." He writes a passage for a practice exam paper. "I did it all myself, except for getting the keys to their homes. Simko did that."

"And the bribery?"

"I used my monthly allowance." Aunt Marlene, Uncle Thomas and Grandma pays us ten pounds per month since we were ten. I used it to buy books and donate to charities. "I had five hundred pounds. I asked Luke for a million."

"Did you pay Stella Griffiths?"

"No. She was happy to do it." Tanner reads his textbook. "Sometimes, nothing can be done if money is not in the deal. Other times, money does not buy happiness. Revenge does."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"The same reason why you did not tell me about your plans." He finally looked up. "I thought you would judge me for it."

"Did you want to kill them?"

"Yes." Silence. He pointed the end of his pen at my expression. "That is why I never told you. I know you believe people should not play the executioner."

"The parents of Thiago Onai, Miles Tucker, Hunar Dash ... Most of them died in the fires." The rest in hospital.

"Their fault for helping their sons escape the punishment of their actions. They should have known better. Look, I am tired of people like them, alright?" He leans forward. "These assholes know how priviledged they are, but they are not empathetic like you and me."

"You suppose that makes us better than them?"

"Definitely," he responds as a matter-of-fact. "I had to make sure they burned properly before calling the fire department. Their houses are gone. Money is not evil — it is how the people use their money is what defines them as evil. So I stole all their money."

"Is that why an extra 300 billion is added to our name?"

"Obviously, you idiot. I asked Luke to put that money into the Industry funding system. By anything, we can use that 300 billion pounds better than these parents. Do not worry — the Azrael ensured that the theft is untraceable."

"And is the Azrael certain this will not affect your career as a Prime Minister?"

"Positive."

I swallow a bittersweet clog. "Some of them had brothers, sisters ..."

"Now under the care of their relatives," he says dismissively. "I hope they are better at parenting."

I obliged his tone and left the library.

***

At the concise time, I visited the bastards at the hospital. The murky trench coat composed comforting warmth, though a new wave of it seems to come from an internal source. Yes, it was satisfaction I felt, inspecting the casted mask veiling Rhett Wallace's face and neck, and one hole for his one eye. His right, severed hand is thoroughly bandaged. He is sedated into a deep, unresponsive slumber to annihilate conscious pain, but I have the power to repeat his painful cries — the memory exists in my mind, stitched to my fingertips, and I know if those fingertips touch his skin, he would wail again.