The Created

Chapter 48: Omission

CONNOR

Two men drag Brevyn's lifeless body through the doorway, leaving crimson streaks on the cold floor. I watch as the body bumps and bounces and jostles, the men unfazed by the fact that someone has just been shot dead before their eyes. He hadn't deserved that; he didn't deserve to die. He was a hero.

I shudder at the thought of what might come next. Brevyn was my only saving grace in a room full of monsters. Now that's gone. I want more than anything to be brave in this moment. I think about the snake; I was brave then. I think about how I almost died in the cave; I was brave then. I think about my father and mother; I can't go back to the coward I was. But even as I think all this, I feel my strength slipping away, my courage failing.

My breathing quickens. My palms sweat. My heart pounds. I wonder if this is what it's like every time Kye starts having his anxiety attacks.

Kye....

Not here. How could he be? Cat would never allow him to attempt something as stupid as coming back to the facility.

I feel more alone than I ever have; even more than when Kye couldn't remember me during our time at this facility. Even then, at least Kye was there. Now I just want him to burst through that door, yelling at me to run because we're getting out of here again.

My chin touches my chest. Killoran reenters and speaks.

"So many tears in one day. From everyone. You should be happy that I called on Kye. Without me, he wouldn't even know that you were alive!"

"He won't come," I mumble.

"What's that?" Killoran waits. I don't respond. He grabs my chin and pulls my head up; I tighten instinctively against the wrist restraints. "Speak!"

"I said...Kye won't come."

"Oh, but he will. He's vulnerable. Lost too many people and needs someone to blame it on."

I simply avert my gaze. I hope with all of my might that Kye will be smarter than that.

Just let me die.

"He won't let you die," Killoran says, as though reading my thoughts. He starts pacing. "He'll come sneaking back here soon enough. And I'll be ready for him."

"He has the Great Book."

"And I have a plan." He stops pacing and looks at me. "Would you like to hear it?"

For a moment, my face betrays my surprise, but I quickly gather myself. He's not really going to tell me his plan, is he? Maybe his confidence is getting the best of him. But that doesn't sound like Killoran. And yet, with the way he's looking at me, I feel that he's telling the truth.

I shift uncomfortably and then nod.

"I thought so," he says. "But first—"

Before I can even register what's happening, Killoran is digging the tip of a short, curved knife into my shoulder and dragging it, leaving a long gash on my skin. I cry out and struggle against it, but the restraints hold me firmly in place. He pulls away and I slump, whimpering as the shock subsides.

Killoran steps back, like an artist admiring his work. My own blood from the knife drips onto the floor, mixing with Brevyn's. He retrieves a handkerchief and wipes the knife clean, taking particular care to polish the handle which is carved in the shape of some exotic bird.

"Excellent," he says finally. "Let's begin."

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