9:43 A.M.
“I guess you have a job after all.” The Pillar grits his teeth. “A brilliant actor.”
“Oh, but thank you. I can’t believe you two took the bait that easily.” The homeless man grins.
“Why would you do that?” I ask him.
“The Hatter pays well,” he says. “Which reminds me, he wants you to answer the second question now.”
“And why should we answer that?” I say.
“Because of this.” He wraps a bracelet around my wrist. I shriek when I look at it. It's made of steel, and I can’t pull it off. It’s has a small, blinking red light. “It’s another small bomb.” The man smirks. “It won’t kill you, but it will blow off that cute little arm of yours. Do you happen to know where you got this tattoo, by the way?” He points at the one on my arm. I can’t go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.
Angry, I raise my hand to punch the man, but the Pillar stops me. “Don’t punch him,” the Pillar says through gritted teeth. “The Hatter is playing his cards well.”
“Why wouldn’t I hit him?” I snap. “I have a Certificate of Insanity.”
“If you hit him, you won’t know how to rid yourself of the bracelet.”
“How do we know it’s really a bomb?” I touch it, wanting to pull it away.
“We don’t,” the Pillar says. Then he shoots me a sincere look. “But I can’t risk that.”
“Aw.” The creepy man sneers. “I’ve always loved sentimental moments. Papa and his little girl, the best.”
“He’s not my papa,” I blurt at the man and shy my eyes away from the Pillar.
The Pillar’s face knots. He seems to have changed his mind about hitting the man. “And I don’t care if she lives or dies.”
I am rather shocked now. I don’t know why. Am I expecting him to stand up for me after saying he couldn’t risk my death? I suppose he just couldn’t, because of whatever reason he has been helping from the beginning. Who are you, Pillar? Sometimes I don’t know which side he is on. “Seriously, I’ve hated homeless people all my life. If you don’t tell us how to free her from the bracelet, I will eat you for dinner. Wait. That’s not quite impressive. I will kill you, cremate you, and then smoke you and get high on your grave.”
The way the Pillar says it forces the man to wince slightly. “Like I said, answer the question.” He does his best not to sound intimidated. “‘Who is really described as mad in the Alice in Wonderland book?’ ”
“The Mad Hatter, of course!” I reply.
“Wrong answer.” The man grins again. My bracelet vibrates and blinks faster.
How could that be the wrong answer? What have I done?