The Gender Lie(54)

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Croft. I do hope to see you up and walking soon,” she said after a moment. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

I shot her a smile that was as fake as King Maxen’s and watched her leave, calm and collected. Dr. Tierney came back in and looked at me expectantly.

“Can I get a piece of paper and a pen?” I asked.

“Of course,” she replied.





24





Violet





I was dangling between two thin lines, trying desperately not to wet myself as I carefully examined the explosive device in front of me. I did my best to ignore the vast darkness below, taking care to focus the flashlight on my helmet on the massive concrete pillar in front of me. The bomb removal task was taking longer than anyone had thought, but that was because of the sheer volume of explosives the Matrians had rigged the facility with.

I had been assured several times that the two lines would hold me, and that if the lead line broke, I would still have the back-up line to catch my weight. Plus, there was a man waiting on the catwalk above with the electronic winch ready to go.

To be honest, when I found out about this particular detail of the job, I had been beyond hesitant to take it. But with my brother being cold and non-communicative, and with Viggo doing… whatever it was he was doing, I needed the distraction, and this one promised hours of work, as well as a bone-jarring fear that could keep my mind off anything.

Except it wasn’t really working. Even as I swung in the air, trying to pry a detonator out of the sculpted explosive, I still found my thoughts drifting to Viggo. I wasn’t even angry at him anymore—not really. I was worried about him.

I had no idea how he was doing, and it bothered me. I kept trying to remind myself that he didn’t want me there, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop wondering if he was eating well, or how his exercising was going.

“Hey, Violet!” came a shout from above and I lowered my arms, tilting my head up to see Owen being lowered down slowly face down. A wave of vertigo hit me and I shook my head, focusing my gaze back on the wall.

“You’re insane,” I said, turning back to the silver pin jutting out of the mound of brown explosive clay.

“Says the girl tinkering with a bomb,” he replied, coming to a stop next to me.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked as I slowly pulled the detonator pin out. I carefully wiped it off using a cloth clipped to my belt and then put it in a small bag that was attached to my harness.

“Looking for you, actually. Well, that and I came to help. But… I… uh… have some news that you really aren’t going to like.”

I frowned as I pulled out my knife, carefully sliding it under the soft clay-like explosive. “Maybe you shouldn’t tell me when I’m playing with this crap,” I said as I began to pry it from the cement.

“You need to hear about it now before you see it later.”

I paused and turned toward him. “What?”

“Your brother asked to be moved back to the cells.”

“What?!” I exclaimed, cringing when the sound of my voice reverberated back from the walls loudly. I waited for it to fade before turning back to Owen. “What?” I asked more softly, but twice as insistently.

Owen flinched and fidgeted on his rope line, the rope creaking ominously under his weight. I tensed, but the line continued to hold. “Before you get upset, let me remind you that it was at his request.”

“Who did he ask?”

“Desmond.”

My throat constricted. “Did… Did he give a reason why?”

“You’re going to have to ask him that. I wasn’t present at the time.”

I rested my head against the rope line, trying to process the disappointment and hurt I was feeling. I didn’t know why I hadn’t seen this coming. Every time I tried to interact with Tim, he had been cold, distant. I knew he was trying to keep his distance because he was worried about hurting me again, but I had tried everything to convince him that I was okay.

The problem was that Tim had lost hope in himself since that day in the cafeteria. He had been making some progress—he had been speaking more, smiling more, and was even more willing to interact with people, for a short time, anyway. But since he had lost it with Henrik, his confidence had been shattered, and I didn’t know how to get it back.

“I hate Mr. Jenks,” I hissed suddenly, my mind zeroing in on the culprit of the wrongdoing my brother had suffered.

“That’s an interesting thing to say,” said Owen, and I looked up at him in surprise. I had almost forgotten he was still there; I had receded so deeply into my own thoughts.