Fragile rays of evening sun spill through the bars high above, dust shimmering like gold in the pure light, particles of long-dead patients, doctors, visitors and victims. Amidst this ethereal cloud of memories, two towering figures, two juggernauts face off for one last time. The game has gone on long enough.
“You knew.” Jason’s voice sounds hollow.
“It wasn’t my place to tell you, Jason,” Lydia replies. She’s standing a few feet away, out of reach.
“Bullshit!” he roars.
“There are procedures,” Lydia says calmly. “Your doctor has to be the one to—”
“What else do you know?” Jason’s fingers glow white, clutched around the thick steel bars of his cage. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” Lydia replies, looking him right in the eye. “I promise.”
“You promise…” Jason spits, bitterly.
“She seemed like a nice lady,” says Lydia genuinely. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
“You will be,” he growls, wolf eyes boring into her.
“This doesn’t change anything, Jason,” she says, ignoring the threat. “The reasons why you want to tell your side of the story are just as valid today as they were yesterday.” She takes a step towards him. “You can make this right.”
“No,” he says, looking away, voice heavy with grief. “It’s too late for that.”
“It’s what she would have wanted…”
“Don’t you dare!” Jason roars, wrenching the cell bars so hard that the whole thing trembles. “Don’t tell me what my mother would have wanted. You didn’t know her.”
“You’re right.” Lydia says gently. Ease off. Give him some space. “So what do you want to do?”
Jason releases the bars and shambles to the back of his cage, half hidden in shadow. “I’ll do it,” he says finally.
“That’s…” Lydia begins.
“If you do something for me,” he says over the top of her.
“What is it that you want?” Lydia asks, opening her palms towards him.
“Come back tomorrow,” he says in a soft growl, idling towards her. “I’ll tell you then. And I’ll tell you the truth. Everything.”
“Why not now?” Lydia asks, unable to conceal her impatience.
“I need time to prepare,” Jason replies. Lydia thinks she can see the flicker of a smile playing around the corners of his lips, but it might be the fading light playing tricks on her.
“Prepare what, exactly?”
“You’ll see.” He walks to his bed and sinks down onto the edge.
“I thought we weren’t playing games anymore, Jason?” Lydia chides, sounding like a disappointed teacher.
“Oh? Then perhaps you can tell me how my mother died?”
“They said it was heart failure.”
“Okay,” he says in an artificially bright voice. “See you tomorrow.”
Lydia feels a wave of panic rising within her. He knows. How? What else does he know? Why won’t he tell? Is the person who killed Evelyn the same person who attacked me? Will they try again? Is that why he needs more time? “Jason, I—”
“Tomorrow,” says Jason, firmly.
Lydia blinks. Suddenly she feels alone, and small, and powerless. “Alright,” she concedes. “Tomorrow.” She turns to go.
“Oh and Lydia,” Jason calls out after her.
“Yes?”
“No guards. No cameras. Just you and me.”
“That might be difficult,” says Lydia. She knows this isn’t true, but doesn’t want to give any more ground. The balance of power is shifting, and not to her advantage.
“You’ll find a way,” says Jason, reclining on his bed, his back towards her. “If you want the truth.”
“Why should I trust you?” Lydia asks.
“What choice do you have?”
Lydia can’t see Jason’s face. She can’t read the emotion in his voice. He knows something she doesn’t, and it’s causing her more than just frustration. She’s uncertain, and afraid. Ice grips her heart, and without another word she turns and heads for the door. Far from being over, the game is suddenly spiralling out of control, and she is losing.