The Shadows of our lives

Chapter V

The bland white light and the old wooden bench I sat on together with the state of me must've made me look not only pitiful but also homeless. I couldn't decide which one pissed me off more. I was leaning forward, forearms propped on my knees. I had no idea how many minutes I'd been bleeding for but it was surprising I didn't pass out yet. The small tower of bloodied balls of tissues was elegantly placed next to me, awaiting another member.

I was near the southern exit of the main building. Santiago ordered me to wait here, while he still had to take care of some business, but didn't stay long enough to explain much more than that. And so my freedom for today was slipping further and further away.

I had nothing to do, and so was stuck staring at the old clock that hung from the ceiling. Which did not make the time fly any faster and on the other hand, made me slowly spiral into insanity.

Tik tok, tik tok...

This part of the estate was left unrenovated, and so everything looked depressing and aged. The green wallpaper was peeling off in multiple places and showed the supposedly-once-white color underneath. Some cracks in the ceiling were my next form of entertainment when I started following each one with my eyes, imagining how I'd react if the roof was about to crumble down on my head. Would I even bother to run?

It never stopped surprising me how somehow this place made me hate it more with each day. This was not the first time I thought about quitting and it sure wouldn't be the last. Humans tend to think the grass is greener anywhere else than in their current garden. But the way my head rang with piercing pain made me curious if I should've been a farmer.

Nearly 40 minutes later, I finally saw Santiago emerge from one of the corridors to the left of me. I blamed it on the blood loss when his black clothes, the calm, yet firm walk and the dull lighting, sending shadows along his body, all had me worried for a second that the reaper came to take me. Something about Santiago was just uncomfortably intimidating.

But I didn't let that stop me when I asked, "Am I allowed to go home now?" My voice was hoarse, unpleasant and tired. I was drained.

Santiago sighed and sat down next to me. His furrowed brows told me he was not in the best mood either, but maybe he just never stopped frowning. Made me curious if it gave him headaches.

"I talked to Driscall," Santiago breathed out as if that should've told me anything.

"Who?"

Santiago turned to me, as confused as I. "Your colleague."

"Which one, I have a few."

Santiago paused and glanced in front of him. It could've been my imagination, but it looked to me as if he was fighting a smile.

"I think you should remember this one, Thatcher."

The tattooed bastard.

I scoffed and earned myself another shock of piercing pain from my broken nose, together with more intense blood flow. I grunted and closed my eyes, gripping firmly onto the scrunched up paper I held underneath my nostrils.

When I regained the ability to speak, I let out, "What about him?"

"He would like to apologize to you in person."

I nearly laughed. "How about he kisses my–"

Santiago cut me off, "But I advised against it. The two of you aren't going to work together. Miss Dagon shall be your partner for the time being. A case will be assigned to you soon."

I saved my energy and stayed quiet. The thought of having to work tomorrow was suffocating enough. But then again, this was partly my fault and so there was no way in hell I'd get a few days off.