The alarm on the nightstand goes off at seven o’clock on the dot, and a second later the door opens and Louis stands there, dressed in a fresh shirt and slacks, the Glock still holstered to his hip.
“You want a shower?”
It’s an odd question—like, of course I want a shower—but I don’t answer him, just keep lying in bed with my head tilted up to look at him.
His expression doesn’t change.
“You want a fucking shower or not?”
I nod, rising a bit on my elbows.
He tosses something at me. It’s small and plops down near the end of the bed. It’s a key, which will unlock the clasp on the collar.
Louis says, “Need to recharge the collar anyway. You’ve got five minutes.”
I stand as I grab the key and start fiddling with the clasp and only pause when Louis speaks again.
“Oh, and Holly?”
He reaches toward something in the hallway with his left hand as he unsnaps his gun from the holster and draws it, both hands seeming to work in concert, and then Jose fills the doorway with him, the boy still not looking at me, keeping his gaze tilted down at the floor, and Louis presses the barrel of his gun against Jose’s temple just hard enough for the boy to flinch.
“Any funny business and the boy gets one in the head.”
Louis, like his boss Hayward, finds power in making these kinds of threats, and I decide not to acknowledge it, moving straight for the bathroom and reaching into the small shower and turning on the water.
I started the countdown as soon as Louis said five minutes, and four minutes and forty-six seconds later I shut off the water and grab the towel and start drying off. When I step back out of the bathroom, wrapped in the towel, a fresh pile of clothes has been set on the bed, and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon and toast sits on the nightstand.
Louis doesn’t appear to have moved, and neither does Jose.
I say to Louis, “I was out in less than five minutes.”
His expression still doesn’t change.
“Yes.”
I gesture at Jose.
“Well, let him go.”
Louis doesn’t move at first—just stands there with his gun pressed against the boy’s head—but then finally he relaxes his grip on Jose.
“Put the collar on.”
I’m confused at first—does he mean the collar I left in the bathroom?—but then I spot a new collar on the bed next to the pile of clothes. This collar looks to be just like the other one—it snaps together, though it can’t be unsnapped without a key—and it fits snuggly around my throat.
Louis says, “Where’s the key?”
I tilt my chin at the bathroom.
He doesn’t like this response, and presses the Glock’s barrel against Jose’s head again.
I quickly retrieve the key and the other collar from the bathroom and slowly approach Louis. I hold out both items—the collar in one hand, the key in the other—and still without looking at me Jose reaches out and takes the items.
Louis says, “Take four steps back.”
I take four steps back, my calves brushing up against the bed behind me.
Louis waits a beat and then moves the Glock away from Jose’s head.
Holstering the gun, Louis pushes Jose down the hallway, and I can hear the boy’s soft footsteps rapidly retreat.
I decide when I kill Louis, he, like his boss, will suffer greatly.
Louis doesn’t move from the doorway.
I say, “This isn’t a striptease. Mind giving me some privacy?”
Louis points up at the camera in the corner. Of course. In Neverland, privacy doesn’t exist.
I ask, “So what’s on the docket for today?”
Louis keeps watching me with his blank expression.
“Ten minutes to get dressed and to eat. Don’t be a second late. Or else the boy will suffer for your insolence.”
Before I can say anything, he shuts the door.
I stand there for a beat, watching the space he occupied a moment ago, and then I shift my gaze up to the camera in the ceiling.
My first impulse is to give it the finger, but I think about the collar around my neck and the zap I’d felt last night. I could handle another one of those, but then I think about how Jose or maybe another child—that girl from last night—might get zapped for the gesture instead.
I haven’t been here long and already I’ve become conditioned. I can’t even begin to imagine what these children go through on a daily basis.
As I turn away and drop the towel and start to get dressed, I decide that when I kill everybody at this place—the guards and freelancers and anybody else who’s had a hand in hurting these children—they’ll all suffer greatly.