Two for Joy - Louise Collins Page 0,46
news—it made him feel helpless, trapped, useless.
Romeo imagined that was how Chad felt in the farmhouse.
He’d stopped watching news in the end, and filled his time with cartoons, quiz shows, and god-awful sci-fi movies, but it made his chest feel tight.
“Psst…”
A killer that had found his own style, his own passion. A killer that wasn’t going to toy with Chad’s mind like Romeo had, but going to play with his body, cut it, hurt it, make it bleed. Then after a month, when he’d had his fun, he would drag his scalpel over Chad’s throat, then burn the number one into his flesh.
“Hey,” Will hissed.
“What?”
“If Fred and Paul ask, can you tell them I’ve been complaining of stomach pains?”
Romeo sat leaning against the bars of his cell. His knuckles ached from taking his frustrations out on the wall.
“They won’t ask.”
“Tell them anyway.”
“Why?”
“Escape plan remember. I’m coming down with meningitis.”
He’d slid his A-Z medical dictionary to Will days before and meningitis was the best he’d managed to come up with. Romeo rolled his eyes at his efforts.
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Just tell them.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m working on my own plan right now, and you’ll discredit it.”
“You’ve been trashing your cell like an enraged beast day after day.”
“I prefer the term monster.”
The monster inside him was beyond infuriated. Another killer had encroached on his territory, taken what didn’t belong to them. Chad was his to kill, and his to let live, no one else would decide but him.
“Still, how is that an escape plan? They’ll think you’re crazy and put you in a straitjacket.”
Romeo looked down at his swollen hand. The flesh had purpled, and he prodded it, wanting the hiss of pain.
“Sometimes you’ve got to risk it all. One mad idea that might end in complete disaster.”
“What—what kind of disaster?”
“Death.”
“You’re making no sense.”
“I am, you just don’t speak the language of monsters.”
“I get it you’re cut up about Chad.”
Romeo winced. “That’s not a nice choice of words…”
Fred and Paul appeared at his gate, then gestured for him to back off. He did so obediently, then held his wrists through the bars for the cuffs. Will started coughing, retching, but Fred told him to shut up rather than offering any concern.
“Romeo … this way.”
He stepped into the corridor, then walked to the first door.
“Slow down.” Paul told him.
“I’m just eager to see Holly.”
“Why is she even bothering to visit you, she was done with you.”
“I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”
With his visits, phone calls, and letter ban lifted, he’d written to her.
Romeo told her that he missed her, and their conversations, hadn’t realized how much their relationship meant to him before it ended.
He had no interest in seeing her, he just needed to get to the next corridor. The only time he ever walked that way was when he had a visitor.
Fred unlocked the door, but rather than wait like he was supposed to, Romeo rushed by. Paul called out for him to slow his pace, but he didn’t, he walked straight up to Justin Steel’s cell, and stood there, grinning.
“Hello, beautiful.”
Justin’s eyes lit up, like he’d just been presented the world, then his clenched fist came through the bars, and in a split second, Romeo’s world went black.
****
It was the same dream, always the same dream. Romeo tired of how simple his mind was being, it was too rattled to even come up with a complex narrative.
There was the magpie, strong, fit, healthy, at least it appeared that way. It refused to leave Romeo, perched in each tree he passed under, then swooped to the next, chattering for his attention. It had followed him back from the park, chirping to him like it was greeting him, or laughing at him. He wasn’t sure which. It sounded more like laughing.
He stopped outside his house, he could smell something cooking, a sweetness filled the air, coming from the kitchen. Romeo’s mother was cooking, no doubt his favorite, she loved spoiling him for being so good.
The magpie landed by his feet, and he went to kick it, but it skipped away, laughing. He ran towards it, but it was faster, got out the way with ease, with a flair and a flash of its white feathers. Romeo growled threats at the bird, getting angrier, getting louder. He could hear music from the kitchen, classical music that covered the sound of his shouts from his mother.
He yelled at the magpie, and when that didn’t work, he reached down, and threw