My answer repeatedly replays in my head, the entire meeting with Travis does. Everything feels like a fever dream, like an out of body experience and I'm struggling to grasp ahold of reality. That seems like the story of my life lately.
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The drugs are aiding and abetting. I'm happy to still have some left from the bag Malachi had given me. Being that Maverick is still giving me a regular re-up, I've got plenty to get me through the rest of this weekend.
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What's bothering me the most is not knowing if the buzzing beneath my skin is because I'm anxious about the choice I made...or if I'm, dare I admit, thrilled by it.
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There's been this little voice in my head, one that sounds like mine, telling me to give in. I've been arguing with it, telling it that it sounds insane, that I'm not crazy like them. Then the voice confirms their insanity, but validates it by explaining that Malachi and Maverick could have everything they could ever want. The voice tells me that any fear of getting caught is easy washed away by the fact that we desire suicide, our end forever being when we decide it's so.
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The voice is convincing...like Malachi, Maverick, and Travis are.
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My bedroom door suddenly swings open, open far enough for Malachi to take a couple steps inside using a foot to kick it closed.
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"Knocking really isn't that difficult." I comment.
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My eyes following his movements as he enters farther. He stops in front of the dresser, leaning back against it with his hands hanging loosely in his pockets.
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"Leaving a room isn't that difficult either..." His amused gaze stays on me. "But here you are, unmoving after hours."
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"This-"
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Malachi cuts me off. "We've given you time to calm your nerves down. The longer you stay in here, the more inclined I am to believe your mind is elsewhere."
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He doesn't try to hide his mischievous expression.
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"You're an asshole." I scoff, knowing he's referring to the drama with Maverick and Brittany...not that I needed that reminder.
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"I can't say that I blame you." He shrugs, turning around to mindlessly inspect at a few items on the dresser. "You've got yourself in some pretty fucked up situations in a very short amount of time. I'm sure even the drugs aren't doing a good job at muffling your thoughts."
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Amusement is laced in his tone, like he might even find it funny how jumbled my brain is right now.
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"I haven't put myself in any situation." I point a finger into my own chest even though he's not paying attention. "Everyone else is doing that for me."
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"That sounds about right;" He nods, still facing away. "You taking no responsibility. Do you recall finding out about Brittany and Maverick's relationship prior to your kiss? Or were you too lovestruck to remember?" He asks in a mocking tone.
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I begin to get annoyed. Somehow, Malachi is always a part of whatever chaos is erupting, adding fuel to the fire any chance he gets.
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Realistically...if Malachi wasn't involved...every bit of drama would be minimalistic, like it was before he put himself in the picture. When Malachi wasn't around, Maverick I never fought, our lives had order...and I wasn't making decisions that change the course of my life...permanently.
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"You're instigating shit, Malachi." I huff, closing my book and tossing it to the side. I scoot to sit on the edge of the bed, glaring in his direction.
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He slides open one of the jewelry box's drawers, peeking side.
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"When's the last time you think Maverick and Brittany have been..." He pauses, taking out a necklace and holding it up to see it better. "Intimate?"
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It wasn't a thought I had dove too deep into yet...making me sit there, unresponsive. Letting myself consider the possibility of them hooking up after our kiss could lead me to getting the truth.
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And right now...I don't know if I can bare hearing it.
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"That would be a shame...to have finally taken the next step with your best friend, to find only that he was playing you." He chuckles softly to himself, shutting the drawer after the necklace is back in its place.
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I stand, anger rising as he continues to taunt me.
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"Why are you acting like you don't give a shit rather or not I'm hurt by this?" I ask in the most demanding voice I can. "You're being a dick for what reason exactly?!"
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Malachi glances back over his shoulder at me. "Because I don't give a shit if you're hurt by this." He states facing his head towards the dresser again. "Like I said; you knew about Brittany and Maverick. You asked for some shit like this to happen. So yes...I do find your self pity in this scenario to be humorous."
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My eyes narrow in on the back of his head.
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"You should talk to him, Lilliana. The longer you wait, the worse it'll get." He suggests, but it's not in a helpful tone, it's in more of a mocking or amused one.
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"You want the drama, the chaos." She observes. "You're making sure that you piss me off and then tell me to go talk to him so our conversation doesn't go good!"
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His eyes brighten when I call him out, unbothered by being accused of this.
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"Now what would make you think I would do such a thing?" He grins.
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"I don't know and that's the problem." I cross my arms over my chest. "Since recently, I was under the impression that you wanted to help me."
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Malachi chuckles lowly but it's genuine. "Just because I come over to help you one time, doesn't mean I want to help you all the time."
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I wave my arms around the room. "Then why did you do all of this?!"
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His gaze doesn't leave mine. "The room?" He asks. "You can thank Maverick for that, not me."
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My eyebrow raises in an accusatory way. "Is that why Malory told me you came to her about it? That you were the one who told her what would make me comfortable?"
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Malachi's eyes that were once bright, darken just enough to notice. "Malory must have gotten confused. She juggles a lot, our names both start with 'M'. It was an honest mistake." His shrug is joined with a nod.
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"You don't actually think I'll believe that right?"
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I don't understand why he would go so far as to lie about something nice he did for me. Just a short number of days ago he was making sure I ate after not doing so all day. Why not just say it was you?
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"Oh I see what this is." He says with a low chuckle. "You think I actually care about you, don't you, Lilliana?" The amusement in his voice makes his words sound so convincing.
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But I'm still not buying it.
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Malachi extends an arm out, his hand in a stopping motion. "I told Maverick I was afraid this would happen." His arms falls back down to his side. "As detached and numb you make yourself every day, you are far more emotionally driven than you lead on."
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Malachi is frustrating for a number of reasons. To me, the biggest one is how I can't tell if he's being one hundred percent truthful or not.
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He's the only person I've ever met that I don't feel like is bullshitting me half the time. He always seems to tell facts, never sugar coating much of anything and always making sure he relays how he feels about a situation.
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Right now, it feels like only half of what he's saying can be the truth. I get the whole thing about me being emotionally driven; I wouldn't mention it out loud or rarely ever to myself but it's not completely wrong. The part about him implying he doesn't care...? That's a lie...it has to be.
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"So what?" I ask. "What does me being emotionally driven have to do with rather you care or not?"
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There's no expression on his face when he answers. "I knew you'd eventually begin to think I'm someone I'm not...and I was right. You're confused."
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"But you can't do nice things for me and then claim you're indifferent." I make a point, folding my arms over my chest.
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His face doesn't change as he states; "Lilliana...it seems you need a refresher."
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His demeaning words and collected composure only continue to make me the opposite. It's like I can feel the blood in my veins getting warmer and warmer as my temper gets shorter.
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"I'm only doing my job."
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We hold each other's stare, his without emotion.
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His words don't hurt me...I simply don't believe them.
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"You knew Maverick instructed me to keep tabs on you, to watch you." He explains.
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"But you-"
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"Make sure you're comfortable, that you've eaten?" Malachi interrupts. "I do as I was instructed, Lilliana." He clarifies. "Maverick is the one worried about your happiness, not me."
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I shake my head at him, steps coming closer to stand in front of my bed, facing his direction.
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He watches my heavy footed advance, amusement settling in his eyes again.
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"Maverick telling you to still wouldn't be a valid reason!" I tell him. "You told me you were the one who came up with the idea to get me involved in all of this insane shit! You said it was because you thought it would give me a purpose!" I shake my head with a scoff. "What is the big deal? Why can't you just admit that you give a shit about someone?!"
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Malachi watches me, head titling to the side. He pauses, then it tilts to the other side.
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"I'd like you to consider something."
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I stare blandly at him, anticipating something ridiculous to leave his mouth. "What?"
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"The idea of me being a liar." He answers, monotone. He then parks up slightly when he says, "Not about it all being my idea; I do take full credit for that." He clarifies as if it's the most gratifying thing. "Is it possible that my motives aren't what I've lead you to believe?"
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Malachi doesn't give me a chance to respond, leaving me to stand here and listen with parted lips and dull eyes.
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"Consider me, a serial killer, truthfully wanting to help someone who is somewhat of a stranger. Out of the kindness of my heart...I chose to make a decision for your life that would help." An eerie grin plays on his lips. "Now that just doesn't sound realistic, does it, Lilliana?"
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Part of me feels dumb; why would I have possibly taken anything he said seriously before? Why think positively instead of realistically? Malachi has been a red flag from the moment I met him. Now that he's saying these things; it should've been plain as day to me.
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"Of course all of this would still be a solution for your life. But that wasn't my motivation. I wanted to see if I could pull off the ultimate manipulation scheme." He says contently. "It began with convincing Maverick that you would benefit from our lifestyle. He persuaded you and I aided that. Being as drug addicted and depressed as you both are, it was light work. Now here you stand..." he spreads his arms out to either side of him. "Having sold your soul all because the story was a good price too."
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I can't possibly manage to relax my facial features no matter how much I try right now. "Fuck you." I say through gritted teeth.
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"Now consider this..." Malachi holds up his index finger as if to tell me to wait. His arm slowly lowers. "How good of a guy do you really think Maverick is?" Then he just has to add; "Given he killed your friend in cold blood."
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Brainwashed.
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Naive.
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Impressionable.
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"You know what, Malachi?!" I yell, sure that the door isn't able to muffle the sound at its volume. I take another confident step closer, hoping to appear more intimidating. "You're a lonesome fucking loser! This...?!" I motion around us. "This is all you have! The only people you have! You don't have anyone in your life that keeps your company by choice!"
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Malachi's eyes darken. His head bows but his gaze stays locked in on mine, forming a skin crawling death glare.
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Seeing that I'm getting a rise out of him like he had me, it encourages me further.
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"You burn every bridge before you've even began forming a relationship with anyone! You walk around and school everyone on their sadness like you aren't saddest and loneliest man on the planet!" My hands ball into fists at my sides. "You-!"
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"Watch your mouth, Lilliana." He warns, his voice so murky that my lips shut. "Forever keep in mind that I could and would kill you. I'm not like Maverick..." He leans down a little, getting closer. "The idea of your death has always sounded tasteful."
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Although I'm timid, I challenge him anyway. "If that was the case, you would've killed me a long time ago, I wouldn't be here, agreeing to work along side you until I fucking die." I say the last part through gritted teeth.
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Malachi looks like he really does want to kill me. It's like the whites of his eyes are painted black. They're glossy, like he's physically here but mentally not.
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We stand like that for what feels like an extra long few moments. I expected Malachi to argue back like he has been, but he doesn't.
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"Dinner is in thirty minutes." He says abruptly. He doesn't pay me another glance on his way out the door.
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___________________________
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Thirty minutes was enough time to recollect myself, pop another pill and have it kick in before the dinner. Getting high is going to be the only way to endure having a meal with the serial killer who just hired me, the one who is messing with my emotions, and the one who just threatened to kill me.
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The lack of details I've been given about the dinner is also off putting. What if Brittany is there? Just the mere thought of having to sit and eat with her is making me have even less of an appetite.
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I probably shouldn't have waited to talk to Maverick. Maybe discussing him, Brittany, and I would have made the evening less awkward; under the circumstances that she is present.
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Forgetting about all the drama...right now I need my best friend more than ever.
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My life has officially changed in a way so drastic that I feel completely lost, out of touch, and somehow even more empty than I was prior to my meeting with Travis. Reassurance and guidance from him would make a huge difference.
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As if Maverick knew I needed him, I find him waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs as I descend them.
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Maverick's hands are clasped together in front of his waist, concentrated on me. He scans the length of the deep v, spaghetti strapped, red dress I'm wearing.
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Malory had organized the closest in my room accordingly. She sectioned off and labeled the entire space by occasion. As many options as she gave in each category, choosing which dress I liked the most wasn't easy.
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"You're stunning, Lilliana." He compliments as I reach the bottom of the stairs.
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The warmth that rises to my cheeks is instant at his words of praise.
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Maverick's hands detach from themselves, the left one finding his pocket as the other comes to rest on the small of my back. His touch is so light, yet it's like it's covering me with a blanket of comfort and vanity.
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He guides me down the foyer. Chatter grows louder as we get closer to the dining room, or dining hall; that would be a more appropriate name for it. The volume and numerous tones lets me know that there's far more people in there than I had expecting in the first place.
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The chatter immediately softens as we round the corner, stepping into the entryway.
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"Ladies and gentlemen." Travis says from across the room, arms held high in the air to get the attention of what has to be at least sixty people.
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Theres three long oak tables, lined parallel to each other in the middle of the large room. Most people are sitting already while others are standing around. Their ages vary; I notice that almost immediately. They're anywhere from teenagers to adults in their early forties. Some of them look the part, sending intense lonely killer energy. Others appear normal, like you'd never pick them in a lineup if having to choose who looks guilty.
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"Lilliana." He drops one arm, the other one aimed right at me.
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The nice high I'm having is making it easier to face all of the stares, so much so that I'm able to hold my head a little higher. I'd be lying if I said it's not flattering, being doting on, accommodated to. I've never in my seventeen years wanted a room full of people's attention on me...but right now it's kind of making me feel...powerful.
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"I'd tell you to say a few facts about yourself but they already know everything about you." Travis chuckles before waving an enthusiastic hand for us to enter. "Everyone have a seat and treat our newest member accordingly. Dinner will be out in a few short moments."
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"Follow." Maverick instructs, stepping in front of me as he lead the way through the hall.
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It's nice to see mainly everyone's disinterested attitudes after taking their seats, awaiting their meal that is far more important than me.
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I was worried for nothing. They're all aloof, my presence insignificant to almost every sitting person in the room.
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They've probably seen tons of people, far greater than I, come and go. To them, I must be appear weak, unskilled, knowledgeable of nothing as of yet. They're unimpressed, and quite frankly...I would be too.
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Travis lowers himself into the chair at the he'd of the middle dining table as Maverick and I step through the isle towards him. There's two open chairs on the left side of the table he sits at.
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I spot Malachi sitting on the opposite side of the table, across from the empty seats. Ignoring him will be effortless since I have absolutely nothing to say to him anyway. By the way his eyes are glued to his phone resting lazily in his lap as he scrolls, it's evident he has no intention of speaking to me either.
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"I like to get everyone together, no matter their location, once a month." Travis announces to me as Maverick and I finally reach our spots. "It reminds everyone that despite the various, separate roles they play, they're all working together at the same time."
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Maverick pulls my chair out, allowing me to sit before taking his own next to me.
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The tension in our extraordinary small group compared to the rest of the room is thick. Glancing over at Maverick who's leaning forward on the table, his forearms holding him up, he is studying Malachi.
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It would be impossible for Malachi to not feel Maverick's eyes boring into him; he's choosing to ignore it. Plus, he's not doing the best job at pretending like everything is 'normal'.
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"Everyone has a job." Travis explains to me, leaning forward on the table, closer to me as if to emphasis the importance of his words. "I've got the most tech savvy kids, never breaking a sweat behind a computer screen." I make sure to make eye contact, proving I'm listening. "I've got people who can make a body disappear without a trace, within mere hours. I've got killers so so bloodthirsty that they stay locked in the basement, only able to leave when there's some to be shed. There's planners, the creative minds that orchestrate plans down to the very second, never leaving room for error."
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Impulsively, I look around the room at their faces, finding that I wouldn't be able to tell who does what by just a glance. It's like everyone is cloaked in different skin, different personalities, forever masked as they fool the world.
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"Do they learn it here?" I ask, curiously as I make eye contact with Travis again.
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"Some do." He answers with one single nod. "Some have a passion, eager to learn more and master a skill. That's when we provide training. Others have already perfected their skill, 'natural borns' as I call them." His eyes seem to zone in while already looking at me. "You on the other hand, have come here after long persuasion and manipulation. Though you killed Cody...is killing the role you'd like to play here?"
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Double doors in the back of the dining hall open to reveal numerous staff exiting with gold carts holding trays of food. They're all in unison, as if practiced a thousand times in order to never step out of sync. Malory stands to the side, a natural smile on her face as she observes the room.
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Travis leans back, keeping his arms out of the way as the trays are set down in front of us. Steak, potatoes, corn, rolls...do they always eat like this?
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"I wasn't prepared to be given an option..."
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Travis laughs at my response, tossing his head back. "Well I'm not going to force you to do something you don't want to do." He says in a 'duh' tone, like I should've known. "Don't get me wrong; you still work for me so you'll have to pick something." He shrugs as if it's no big deal, tearing his eyes away as he sits straighter over his food.
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I tense up, the reminder of being controlled for the rest of my life causing me to be unsettled.
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Maverick could sense my emotions, like he always does. From under the table, his large hand comes to rest on my leg. His touch sends a shiver down my spine and a calmness over me.
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"What do you like, Lilliana?" Travis asks me, picking up his fork and knife. I can't help but to feel a little off, sitting right next to a man who runs a gang full of killers, as he holds a knife. "What are you good at?"
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Malachi's phone dropping onto the table gets all of our attention. "Respectfully, Travis..." he begins, making Maverick's hand on my leg tighten as he watches Malachi closely, as if mentally telling him to choose his words wisely. "She needs to be killing. That's why we had her kill Cody."
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Travis isn't given a chance to respond as Maverick says, "We had her kill Cody so we had something to hold over her head." He says in a dark tone, as if him saying in that way will make it true.
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"That's why you wanted her to kill Cody. At was a way to make sure she could be with you forever." Malachi retorts, pointing a finger at Maverick. "From our first true conversation about her, I was telling you that this girl" he points to me without looking at me. "Is moments away from killing herself if you didn't do something about it!" He hisses, doing his best not to yell and draw attention.
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Maverick must not realize his fingers are now digging into my thigh. I can feel the anger radiating off of him.
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"Take a fucking moment, Maverick..." Malachi continues. "When's the last time you've seen her pick up a fucking book?" There's a very brief silence. "She doesn't need to when her life has become far more interesting." He explains, making me swallow. Although I've seen them darker, his eyes darken a few shades. "Face it, Maverick...you wanting her by your side forever isn't what's distracting her from her sadness; it's the simple fact that she killed someone."
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I place my hand over Maverick's, immediately causing it to relax its grip.
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Travis gives a warm smile as he sighs and looks between the three of us. "So a murderer it is then?"
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