Their eyes, as if stitched to remain open permanently, follow me down the long hall into the main corridor.
I thought I’d only witness the mortified glares from Meridei and Belinda. But they are gawking at me in shock by the dozens. How many wanted to see me kiss the cold lips of death? How many were expecting I’d leave in the arms of a physician?
But I glide across that checkerboard-tiled floor with my shoulders back and a smirk, like I’m untouchable. Like I’m built for war.
Like I’m the king.
I finally notice Meridei and Belinda filling out their daily paperwork, sitting at a writing desk with a gas lamp illuminating their clipboards. I hover over their work, casting my shadow upon them like a sword to their throats.
In synchrony, they raise their eyes to look up at me. Meridei’s eyes twitch. Belinda coughs as if her sudden gasp forced her to accidentally inhale a string of saliva.
“I’m pleased we came to an understanding today,” I tell them. “Yes, I’m pleased because I wouldn’t want either of you to fall under the assumption that I don’t like to play games.”
“I don’t catch your meaning,” Meridei says slowly, keeping her face perfectly still.
I lean forward, clamping my hands down over theirs, squeezing.
“I believe it’s my move now.”
