Empire of Lies
we wanted to stay with our Uncle Avery, the ones that killed any chance we had at getting placed in a real foster family. Him making us sign those papers set into motion years of terror in hell, and he paid his fair share of visits.“Sir,” he says, sighing. “I would really like to finish my goddamn shower alone, if that’s okay with you. If it’s not, I’ll have to call security.”
“How many times did I ask you to stop watching me shower?” I say. “How many times did I fucking beg you to stop making me strip naked in front of you, before you took advantage of me?”
“What?” His eyes widen. “What are you—”
“You got a sick fucking high off watching me bathe in front of you,” I say, keeping my voice firm. “You liked it so much, that you made my brother touch you as you took it all in like some type of child porn show.”
His face pales and he grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist. He squints—the recognition immediate, and unlike all of the other assholes I’ve visited, he doesn’t start with denial.
“I…” He shakes his head. “I honestly don’t remember, Trevor...”
“I’m Michael.” I clench my jaw. “The one you treated worse. And you honestly do remember. We both do. I’m not a fan of repeating myself these days, so please don’t make me.”
“Maybe five.”
“Maybe?” I tilt my head to the side. “You visited us far more than five times, so you know that can’t be true…”
“What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want anything from you, per se. I want to do something to you, though…”
He looks nervous as I lift my shirt—revealing the gun that’s tucked into my waistband. “You’re here to shoot me? Is that what you want after all these years? Revenge?”
I don’t answer any of his questions.
“There are cameras in here, you know.”
“There were.” I smile. “But I’m not here to shoot you. You’re actually the only person on my list that I’m not going to kill like that,” I say. “But only because I know quite a few things that would be far worse for you. Give me a better number for my question so I can determine what that is.”
He swallows. “Ten, or so.”
“Or so? Hmmm.” I tap my fingers against the wall. “Okay, we’ll go with, or so. Problem is, that’s not really an adequate number of bullets, so I’m at a bit of a loss on how many I would’ve needed to use for you.”
“You just said that you weren’t going to shoot me.”
“I’m not.” I hit the hidden switch I installed years ago and watch as three hundred volts of electricity shock him instantly. They hit him so hard that his entire naked body convulses and shakes at once, the sound of the water drips zapping and buzzing make the scene it even more satisfying.
He falls to the ground amidst the intensity, and I wait until I can see wisps of smoke rising from his pathetic body.
I know he’s dead—that he was technically done the moment I hit the switch, but I wait a few seconds before flipping the switch upward.
“It was three hundred,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Five times a week, the first week of every month, for five fucking years…”
I leave the bathroom and feel a hint of something in my chest that I haven’t felt since I was a child.
Peace.
The moment I get out of his office and make it to the parking lot, I pull out my phone and send the email I’ve been longing to send since me and Trevor made this deal.
Subject: All or nothing.
The list is complete.
--Michael
Michael Now
Subject: Next Moves + Sleep in NYC…
Is there any reason why, hours after you finish what we’ve been working toward for years, that you’re currently standing me up on the celebratory dinner? (We have a lot to discuss about what we need to do next…)
Also, I’ve slept better over the past few days than I ever have in my entire life: 10 hours. What about you?
--Trevor
Subject: Re: Next Moves + Sleep in NYC…
A certain flight is getting in an hour earlier than expected, so I’m on my way to the private airport…I’ll need a raincheck. (I personally think we should both step back from the game for a little while, live a little)
Yes, I have. 8 hours.
--Michael
Subject: Re: Re: Next Moves + Sleep in NYC…
What fucking flight, Michael? There’s no target or research on the books right now. (That’s not what you were saying three and half weeks ago…Were you lying to me?)
Stop taking twenty minutes at a time to email me.
--Trevor
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Next Moves + Sleep in NYC…
It’s a flight for my wife. By the way, she says hello. (No, I’m just thinking that we may be able to go in a different direction. I’ll have it planned out once I help Meredith handle her father and her aunt…Did I tell you about that ?)
--Michael
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Next Moves + Sleep in NYC…
You know what? I take back everything I said before. I think you may have actually found someone who’s just as batshit crazy as you are. (No, you didn’t tell me that you unknowingly married a goddamn vigilante…)
Let me know when I’ll get to meet her…
--Trevor
Meredith Now
A week later
Michael is standing outside his car—armed with a bouquet of black roses, the moment I land in New York City. Per his instructions, I’m wearing oversized shades and a medical mask, concealing who I am just in case someone on the ground staff may recognize me.
Once I make my way down the steps, he walks over to me and pulls down the mask, kissing me like his life depends on it. His hands grip my waist as he kisses me deeper, and I feel his cock hardening against my exposed thigh.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I whisper that I missed him. That even though it’s only been a