Tortured - Jaele

|| Chapter Eleven ||

Jace-

I tugged the zipper of my jacket up to my neck and lifted the hood over my head. In the bathroom I grabbed a whole bottle of pills from the cabinet along with a small jar of anesthesia and a needle syringe. A little back up in case my pills ever failed me. I needed to focus. But I couldn't afford Riele to wake up at the wrong time. There were precautions I had to take. I loaded the syringe with the thick clear syrup of the anesthesia and squirted a little bit into the sink to make sure the needle was working. Then I looked up at myself in the mirror and rubbed my hand across my chin. Yeah, this'll have to do.

I slipped into the guest room and hovered over the bed. She was surprisingly still asleep, but she had something in her hand. It was a photo of Promise. I pulled the frame out of her grasp gently and set it on the carpet without a sound. Riele shifted, I froze with my hands floating over her left arm. I took the syringe and quickly slid it into one of the veins sticking up against the skin of her wrist. Riele immediately jolted awake.

"What are you... What are you doing?"

She looked at me with her eyes widening and squinting counteractably as the drowsiness soon took over. She tried to sit up.

"What are you doing?!"

She screamed, with her eyes now on the syringe draining into the vein of her wrist. I pushed her back gently, smoothing my hand across her cheek.

"Just lay here and go to sleep, okay? You're gonna sleep for a while angel face. There's something I have to do."

Riele's gaze melted into confusion. I felt almost guilty as her face crumpled with horrific realization.

"No! Please! No I can't! I can't! Jace!"

It wasn't exactly easy watching her fade out of consciousness. Her breathing slowed as her eyes closed and her body went limp. I was doing this for her. I kissed her forehead and covered her up before leaving the room. That should buy me a few hours. In the kitchen I downed the whole bottle of pills along with a bottle of beer, grimacing at the taste.

...

"Jace? What are you doing here?"

Sean answered his front door on the first knock. He lived further downtown alone in a 5th floor walk up. It wasn't too ritzy but with the salary I paid him I guess it was all he could afford. He looked past me to the streets outside, and down the sidewalk.

"I need to talk to you about something."

I said, smoothing my thumb very carefully over the harsh grain of the blade in my coat pocket, Sean glanced over his shoulder, edging the door an inch closer to his nose.

"About what?"

"Just let me in and I can explain. I promise you won't regret this."

I lifted my eyebrows in a manner to appear convincing. I spoke Sean's very narrow language of Money and I knew If I said the right things he'd let me in. But for now he looked skeptical, his hand twitched and fluttered at the hem of his shirt.

"Uh, sure, okay. Just keep your voice down alright?"

He opened the door wider to let me through. The smell of middle class stale fast food and cheap cigarettes hit me as soon as I walked in. I wanted to retch but I kept my composure, observing the middle class life I assumed Sean was accustomed to. He shut the door behind me and offered me a seat in the living room.

"Make yourself at home, boss."

The sofa was a dense colored loveseat, stacked high with old news papers and take out containers. Coffee table covered in dust and something that appeared to be sticky, accompanied by an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts.