The Prisoner Project

SEVEN

I looked away, because I was sure my heart wouldn't have been able to cope with one more second of it. I still heard his voice, a smooth melody that would make you disbelieve it were coming from him. "Today is the 28th, it's an anniversary." He continued, humour in his voice. "A very special day for me."

There was my name again. A bullet straight into my heart. I sighed, forcing myself to look up. "What's the anniversary for?" I wanted to slap myself for sounding so breathless.

He shrugged, his smile was no longer there. Just an amusement that waltzed in between his dangerous eyes. He knew he had knocked me off my feet with that smile. "Now that's none of your fucking business."

I nodded quickly because I wasn't going to pry. Honestly, I didn't feel up for it. It was my second day with Banshee, I didn't want to bite more than I could chew. "Alright, Nicholas." I changed topics. "Tell me a bit about you, something other than the anniversary."

The question was a really long shot. He probably wouldn't answer it.

Banshee remained stoic. Only lifting a furrowed brow. "You mean, the things you haven't already assumed about me?"

"I'm not judgemental." I retorted, or so I had thought.

He scoffed and then his voice turned high pitched. "You're a disgusting murderer, Nicholas." And it took me a couple of seconds to realise that he was mocking me. That was what I had said on the first day we met. I gasped, but he looked impassive, like he hadn't just done what he'd done. His eyes narrowed. "Shut your mouth, it's rude to gape."

I held back whatever I could have said. Instead, I cleared my throat. "What I said was the truth."

"Was it? How do you know I murdered those people?" He challenged, eyes cooling.

"It's in the file, it says you turned yourself in. What more do I need?" I challenged right back, unable to distinguish between the vehemence and disgust in my voice. "I saw the pictures of the bodies too, so you can't say the murders are false. You are a disgusting murderer."

His face twitched.

It almost glitched.

Silence.

It was a silence that was only silent in the way Banshee could make it. His face revealed nothing, and his mouth had twisted back into a straight line. It was like he took a few moments to blank out of our conversation, and at first, you would think he wasn't even listening but his eyes betrayed him. They flickered like a dying candle light.

"You don't understand what I'm capable of. What I could do to you. You don't know me, Aria." He mumbled, so softly that one would mistake it for whispering. My name was like a pencil jab in my eardrum.

"I believe the file." I whispered.

Then he breathed out, slowly.

I did too, in anticipation for what he would say next. Perhaps he would explain what he meant, why he said I don't know him. I was planning to use it to my advantage. Perhaps it would be my first step in understanding the why.

The explanation never came.

Instead, he asked in a voice that could freeze over ice. "Are you Christian, Aria?" — It had come softly, like a snake hissing for the first time.