The Arrival | The House of Voices #3

Twelve - Choice

Choice

 

There were no comforting dreams this time.

When Parish blinked back into consciousness, there were no feelings of warmth and contentment slowly fading from his system. He felt cold and alone. So very alone.

But, he realized as he groggily took in his surroundings, he wasn’t alone. Seated in a plastic chair by the door was The Warden. And he did not look happy.

“Where am I?” Parish asked. He wasn’t in his old cell anymore. The walls in this room were brighter; the white lights were brighter; the linens cleaner, whiter… So much white.

“What happened?”

“We had to move you into a new room, boy,” The Warden replied with a slight shake of his head. “You had a bit of an episode back there.”

An episode? Parish thought, scratching the side of his neck. He was about to ask what the Warden meant when the memories came flooding back.

October and Darren at the café table in his previous room. They’d held hands. She’d told Darren that she was glad to be free of Parish; that she wasn’t going to come for him.

Parish felt his heart sink a little in his chest.

He remembered.

“I’m sorry,” Parish started, his words coming out scratchy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Who did you see?” There was a twinkle of interest in The Warden’s deep set eyes as he watched Parish careful, searching for a reaction.

“Excuse me?”

“You asked my people to tell ‘her’ you were sorry. That you needed her,” The Warden answered, lingering slightly on the “her”. Parish grew uneasy.

Had Larkson told The Warden about October as well, and was he trying to figure out where she was? Or was The Warden just a curious man, eager to pry into Parish’s mind? He didn’t know.

All he knew was that he didn’t like the look in The Warden’s eyes.

“I don’t remember,” Parish said, blinking a little for effect. “I don’t remember what happened.”

The Warden was silent for a moment. He studied Parish’s face for a few seconds and then stood up, clasping his large, beefy hands together. “You’re good, son, I’ll give you that. Great poker face,” He said, raising two stubby eyebrows together at Parish in approval. “But I know you’re lying to me.”

Parish didn’t let his fear show. “I’m not,” he said calmly, feigning a look of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The sides of the Warden’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Someone you care about then, if you insist on lying even when you know I can tell.”

Parish licked his lips, suddenly feeling incredibly thirsty. The room… was it getting hotter?

Oblivious to the rising temperature and the beads of sweat forming on Parish’s brow, the Warden continued. “This girl you need… She wouldn’t happen to be the same one you broke out of Abercoster’s with would she?”

Parish wiped the sweat off his forehead. The temperature was definitely rising. His vision blurred, the image of The Warden shimmered.

“Because Pauline is searchin’ high and low for the girl, you know. Even sent a team to where we found you, but came up empty.” The walls around Parish began to change from white to an elegant cream. Sconces and paintings appeared on the walls, a banister appeared on the side.