Between the Lines✔ [COMPLETED]

[34] A Vague Reveal

Kyle

Ace walks into the bedroom and sniffs sharply as his head turns in the direction of my work desk. His index finger swipes across the glass, and he finds the desk to be clean; acceptable. He clears his throat again. 

"You know," he says, chuckling, "It's always the same with these women," he turns to me, "They don't expect the things they should –they don't expect the things that all the signs around them are telling them they should expect. The bad guy is the charming one in the black suit, polished and pretty, the good guy has a bad side, he may even be," he shrugs, "Schizophrenic," he looks me dead in the eyes, "And the most obvious, sickening, annoying, blood crawling thing that they don't expect," he says, stepping closer towards m with each new word, "Is for one of those people to be me."

I don't speak. I stand, motionless. I listen. 

"Now, Kyle," he says, breaking from his moment of stiffness to wave his glass of whiskey in the air before me, "I'm not in any way saying I'm schizophrenic," he says, wheezing a laugh, "But you get what I mean, right?" he asks me, pleading. "It's boring." He looks at me as though he's expecting an answer for a few moments, but I don't know what t say. "I mean," he continues, "It'd be nice for the woman to fight back every once in a while. Granted, she'll always lose to me, but you get what I mean. It's gotten so... so... bland, being this... well... boss."

I try not to shift on my feet, but suddenly I feel the need to move. I watch his movements carefully, and try to transfer the desire to move to his steps. 

"I know you heard the rumours," he says. "I bet the entirety of those mindless fucks in the organisation are talking about it, aren't they?" He assumes, turning to me and laughing. "Oh, Kyle, oh brave soul, oh inheritor of the grand, international 'C.A.R.D'," he stares at me intently, focusing on my features, staring at my clothes, "Kyle Davidson, running the Criminal Association for Recorded Dissociation."

I try not to breathe heavily. After a few moments, he backs away and begins glancing around my room again. 

"You're lucky," he says, a devious smile on his face, "You are my nephew, and quite an obedient one. I won't kill you yet. In fact, perhaps those idiots are right. Someday when the boredom kills me, I'll let you take over the organisation. There's no one else on my list anyway." He laughs, because he's arrogant and selfish and a complete pain in the ass.

"Anyway, Kyle, there's one more thing I wanted to talk to you about," he says, his expression going blank. He turns to me once more, standing firmly on the ground, and sipping into his whiskey before speaking. "Malory Lloyd."

My heart begins to beat harder, and I can feel myself about to crumble. I don't want to move to clench fists; I don't want to move at all. Not right now. Ace stares at me, and I'm hoping by some divine grace that he can't read my mind or see my nervousness.

"What about her?" I ask, trying to calm myself.

Ace pouts and tilts his head, shrugging, "I wanted to commend you on a job well done."

She- wait, what?

"Sir?" I ask.

"You see, Kyle," he says, "I don't know if you've noticed it yet," he starts walking towards me, "But there's a certain..." he gestures with a wave down his face, "look," he says, "to rape victims."

A... certain... look?

"There's a level of emotional death and trauma in their eyes that lives on, it's not something you see directly, no no, Kyle, no you have to look... deeper. There's a certain amount of expression one shows regularly on their face after an experience like that... it's not something easily seen, and I think any other wise person would agree that if a rape victim is strong enough to keep a secret like that to themselves, they know how to conceal emotions quite well, and Malory, I've realised, is one of those people."