The Manipulation Room

Chapter 29 - Please

Manipulation Room victim no. 653563
Name: Pascal Longley 
Age: 95 years old
Occupation: Retired
Family Member: 26-year-old granddaughter, Saskia  
Description: Force-fed one gram of vaporised polonium, causing sudden death due to poisoning 

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Lysander cleared his throat, seemingly uncomfortable, but his eyes kept on drifting to me. His skin, which was pale as chalk unlike Ezra's caramel skin, was red with blush. He cleared his throat again, as if he had something trapped in there, and bit his lip. "Yes? What do you...um, want?" 
He seemed so timid compared to how confident he had been with me all those days ago. It was quite surprising and caught me entirely off guard. I turned to Ezra, who was staring at me with just as much confusion and anticipation as Lysander. Their faces were mirror images of each other, though one face was a lot more attractive than the other. To me, anyway. 

I folded my arms, "You said you liked me, correct?" 
He chuckled, but nodded all the same, "Maybe, why?" 
Even Ezra had sat up, arching his back and staring at me with all the confusion in the world. I exhaled, closing my eyes for a second. Whatever I said next had to work; it had to. "Okay, then prove it." I said. He laughed again, low and amused, "Meaning?" 
"Release us." 

As soon as I said that it was like the whole room stood still. I heard Ezra take a sharp intake of breath, Lysander appeared taken aback. "You may think I'm an idiot but let me assure you, I am not. I'm a member of the Delta Battalion; I only serve one man, Thanatos." He turned to Ezra. "Our president." He proudly declared. Ezra scoffed, shaking his head, "He may be your president, but I can assure you, he's not mine." 

"You better cut the attitude, unless you have a death wish." Lysander said, looking down on Ezra like he was the lowest scum he'd ever witnessed. Ezra rose to his feet, squaring up on Lysander, his jaw clenched. "You think you're worth something? Just because you're one of his brain-washed minions? Trust me, you're just as significant as the soldier he shot right in front of our faces yesterday." Ezra whispered. I'd never seen him so utterly primitive. It almost took me aback. He was so sweet, so kind. I knew he still was, but being in this cell at the hands of the man he hated the most was doing strange things to his mind. 

Lysander crept closer to Ezra's cell, a smug smirk on his face, "Your father's dead, you have no friends and you may have just sentenced the only friend you did have to death." He muttered, staring at Ezra from the safety of beyond the bars. He knew he'd just pressed all the right buttons, he had the upper-hand here. Ezra's breathing quickened, I could see his chest rising and falling from under his shirt. His blue eyes were bright and intense, and he was biting his lip so hard I thought it was bleed. His whole body was shaking as he spoke in a hushed but deadly tone, "I don't know how you know any of that...but I swear to God, you open that f**king mouth of yours again and I-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. 

I could tell he was trying to shake the bad thoughts out of his head, that were clouding his judgement. He hated to think like that but he couldn't help it. Lysander still had an arrogant smile on his face. He stared at Ezra passively before taking a step back, as if what he said next would cause Ezra to erupt. I braced myself for impact. 

He pressed his lips together before opening his mouth, "Your mother...she's nothing but a murderer. Even worse than Thanatos, in my eyes." I watched as Ezra's iris glowered teal. His lethal stare felt painful and piercing, even if it wasn't directed at me. His eyes flashed with indignance and anger, much like lightning on a pitch black night. White knuckles from clenching his fist too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, his hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. His face was red with suppressed rage, and when Lysander tried to take back his words, he swung around and mentally snapped.