Page 142 of A Dead Man's B-Side
“Please! Please! You don’t have to do this. What is it you want? August–”
In a way I’d never seen before, August lifted his open palm and swung it in the air before letting it land in a resounding and sharp slap across the boy’s face. “We do the talking. And in this case, I’m talking, so you remain quiet until I allow you to speak.”
The room was silent, and Scott remained, in fact, quiet, but only for a moment, his eyes blinking wide before, suddenly, his face scrunched up and he fell into a fit of sobs.
Wolf, still standing at his back, threw his hands up in exasperation and mumbled, “Oh, for God’s sake.”
Again, August slapped him; this time, however, he hesitated, and I could see the battle raging within himself, opposite ends of a coin fighting to face upwards. He met my eyes, for help or out of unease, but the look I’d returned seemed to steel his own.
We’ve come this far, there was no point in showing any pity now. I was sure that, soon, nobody would feel sorry for Scott Kensington.
Scott was a mean drunk, an irrational drunk. And so, the natural answer was that he needed to be antagonized. It was a unanimous decision that August would do the talking.
He rolled his shoulders back before straightening them, his jaw clenching. “Are you scared?”
The boy nodded, sobbing before the sound got cut off by his swallow. “Yes! Yes, okay?”
August put on a sympathetic look, reaching out and pressing a hand against his shoulder. We scattered across the room. I placed myself next to Wolf, behind Scott, as Rain sat on the couch to the side. Paris remained by the window, her eyes flickering to the scene every few moments as she kept watch outside. Marigold placed herself closest to the door, listening for any sounds to be cautious of.
August’s hand tightened on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s good. That’s a good thing. It’s a good incentive to answer our questions. That’s all you have to do, just answer a few questions.”
“Okay, okay, okay, just-just please don’t hurt me–please.”
He was practically begging, blubbering and mumbling to himself, and I caught the tail-end of Paris’ eyeroll as August unrolled Marigold’s pouch. The glint of knives caught in the moonlight that poured into the dark room.
Scott looked at them and went to scream, in fear or for help, I didn’t know, but Wolf was faster, stuffing the cloth back into his mouth.
August tilted his head and eyed him pointedly. “Kensington… That would only complicate things. We don’t want that, because if it gets complicated, Iwillhurt you.Wewill hurt you.”
Scott’s eyes widened, and he nodded frantically, his words crumbling against the cloth on their way out.
When Wolf retracted his hand, August continued. “Alright. If you answer all of my questions honestly, I won’t use any of these.” He gestured to the knives on the table next to them. “But if you lie… I’ll know. And I’ll be forced to use these. Or someone else will. Someone meaner among these people will do worse.”
Scott’s gaze moved around the room, and he tried tilting to Wolf and me before I grabbed his head and forced it forward again. He flinched and whimpered, following my hands and remaining that way.
He nodded hastily, ready to spill anything we needed, out of self-preservation.
August nodded, pleased. “Why don’t you tell me what your family is really hiding? What’s under that perfect, glossy picture? Husband, a wife, and two kids. Something’s bound to go wrong, right?”
I’d expected a bit of a fight, a bit of fire and rage, but Scott sang like a goddamn canary, “Yes, yes-yes something did go wrong, okay? My mother, she’s crazy. She-she does these things for power–”
“What things?” Rain asked, leaning in closer from her seat.
Scott turned to her. “Like she shaved her head and claimed she had an illness to throw a fundraising gala and embezzle the money–or she threw herself off a balcony and told our father I had done it because I told her to stay out of The Fenlon Society. She was the one who put the idea into Malakai Young’s head to hurt Marlene. She wanted him out of the way, she hoped Marlene’s family would demand retribution, and when Malakai was pushed out of presidency, I would take his place–she wanted the power, she always wants more, but–”
He was rambling, and I couldn’t understand what he was talking about, but everyone else seemed to be just fine.
Wolf mumbled, almost to himself in a state of shock, “She wasn’t lying. Ajax–”
“She was telling the truth. Please I told you what you want to know–she needs to be killed, not me. Please, I didn’t do anything.”He fell back into a fit of sobs, and I wanted to throw my head back and groan at his whines and whimpers. I thought Scott was an–
I tilted my head and contemplated what’d just occurred to me. I looked to Rain, wondering if she was noticing what I was. August was adaptable, switching from antagonizing to sympathetic based on the mood of the setting, which was excellent.
Except…
Rain tilted a brow and shook her head slightly in question at my eyes that had grown wide. I ran my tongue over my dry lips in contemplation before shaking it off.
It wasn’t possible.
