I didn't know how much time had passed, while I was floating in an in-between world where nothing seemed real. I was awake, but not entirely. A part of my body felt really cold - was it my feet? I didn't know.
When I woke up after a while, everything was much clearer than before. My head still felt like it was filled with cotton, but I could think more clearly and my sight was clearer.
It was indeed my feet that were cold. I wasn't wearing socks or shoes, and the floor was nothing but a concrete slab. My arms had been pulled behind my back and tied on the chair I was sitting on, as well as my feet. Someone had wrapped an old tea-towel around my mouth, tied on the back of my head.
I looked around. There was a small, barred window near the ceiling. The walls, like the floor, were bare concrete slabs, with mold growing on them where water leaked down from the ceiling. Against one of the walls was an old pantry with a door not to far from it. A door that would most likely lead to my own freedom.
My wrists were hurting by the ropes that cut into my already damaged and burned skin as I tugged on them. How did I even get here? I couldn't remember anything. Why was I locked up here? The last thing I could remember was the ride to the hospital by ambulance. It was quite clear I wasn't there anymore.
I tried to remain calm. I was trained for situations like this, after all, and I wasn't helping myself by panicking.
I didn't understand why I was here. Niall had been the target, not me. Was I just collateral, then?
The door opened, and the man I had known and tried to forget appeared in the doorway. My breath caught in my throat when I saw him.
He looked exactly as he did 17 years ago when I'd seen him at a court hearing for the very last time. He had shaved, and I recognized the look on his face, one I'd seen on my own many times before.
" Mercer," he smiled, his teeth yellowed by the lack of dentistry in prison. I flashed him an angry glance. I started shouting insult after insult, but my words were nothing but muted mutters.
He folded his hands behind his back and leaned against the moldy wall. " I'd love to take it off, but you have to promise me you won't start screaming. Can you promise me that, Mercer?"
Years of training had taught me to nod, so I did. He walked over to me and untied the knot on the back of my head. The teatowel dropped on my lap. I licked my dry lips in an attempt to moisture them.
" Chester Hargraves... Something wrong with that cell of yours?" My voice was steadier than I felt. I wanted to scream of fear and grief but I locked it away instead. I couldn't show him I was scared of him. It would give him more power, power I did not want him to gain.
Chester laughed, his green eyes glistening. " It was a little small, I've to admit. I decided to extend those walls into the wide, green world." Chester thought he was extremely funny, as he laughed at his own joke.
Chester wore clothing that didn't fit him properly. As if he'd found them in a dumpster somewhere. His jeans were at least three sizes too big, and his blouse was wider than his small framed body. He wore old flip-flops on his feet.
" How long have you been out?" I asked him, forcing myself to look him in the eyes.
" Since this morning. Those bombs probably overshadowed my prison-break. Good job, by the way."
I shot him an angry glance, the only emotion I was willing to show the man. " Six people died because of those bombs," I hissed. Chester leaned against the pantry. "Which was my intention, too. I mean, why else did I place five bombs on site?"
He tried to lure me out, I could tell from the look on his face. I had to temper my anger.
" So you were behind those bombs. Why doesn't that surprise me??" I asked him. " You do know you could have killed me, right?" Chester nodded in reply and stared ahead of him. Clearly, me getting injured hadn't been part of his masterplan. In my head, the puzzle pieces slowly came together.
" You were behind those letters, weren't you?" I asked though I knew the answer already.
" I didn't write them myself," Chester replied with a casual shrug. "They wouldn't have gotten out of the prison anyway. My plan was to gain the attention of your prestigious MI6."
I looked at him. " How do you know I work for 6?" I asked him. Chester rolled his eyes. " I'm not daft, Mercer. When I heard you were adopted by the McCoy's and fought in the army a few years later, it would only have been a matter of time for you to become established by MI6. And, of course, I had my sources," Chester winked.
I wanted to puke. I wasn't sure if it was because of the concussion, or because of him.
" Kellan Blake," I noted. Chester nodded, impressed with my skills. " Your reputation as the best and youngest agent isn't based on pure fables after all." Chester slowly started pacing.
" Why on earth did you go to such lengths to get my attention? And why through Niall? " I asked.
" That rutting popstar was to lure in the bureau, dearest Mercer. All I cared about was you. All this time and you were my target. Not that idiotic Irish import," he laughed loudly, spitting while he did so.
" You could've written me a letter? It would have gotten you in such trouble in the first place."
Chester laughed, " Sure, and you would have written back to me?" Chester walked towards me and crouched down in front of me. I could smell his stinky breath, which smelled of cheap Aldi beer.
" Your breath smells as if you've picked up an old habit," I stated. " What was it again? Schultenbräu pilsner?" He flashed me an angry look.
" You're just as bad as that mother of yours."
That hit me, hard. I did not let it show as I stared back at him, my face neutral. " My mother died by your hand," I reminded him. Chester got up and walked away from me.
" I loved her, Mercer, I truly did." The change he went through in front of my eyes worried me. He raced his hands through his hair as he started pacing restlessly.
" Then why did you do it?" I asked quietly. " Why did you take her from Ronan and me?"
Chester whirled around towards me with a speed I'd never seen before. I suppressed my fear. " You two took her away from me," he hissed as he pushed his face into mine. I
" When she became a mum, she started changing. And you," he said as he pierced his finger between my ribs, " You made it even worse," I swallowed as I watched him.
"She changed after you were born. She changed completely. It was as if she was possessed, and it scared me." He turned around and looked me in the eyes. " She attacked me, Mercer. I had to defend myself."
I couldn't believe what he was saying. I couldn't believe he changed the facts entirely to make him look like a victim.
" I think the forensic pathologist would like to differ when he saw the gaping hole in her chest caused by an uncountable amount of stab wounds you caused. To me, that's not defense. It's murder."
Chester started to breathe heavily, clearly having a hard time by my words.
" What is it you want from me, anyway? You went through all this trouble and you still haven't told me what you want from me."
" You have to clear my name, Mercer Hargraves," he said so plainly and simply as if he asked if I wanted to make him a sandwich.
" That's not my name. I'm Mercer Fulton." I looked at him " And you know I don't have the authorities to do such things, even if I wanted to do so."
Out of nowhere, a knife appeared in Chester's hand. A small, silver blade with a sharp looking edge. " Are you sure?" he asked as he lifted my chin with one finger.
" Tell me, does your famous boyfriend like deformed girls?" He pushed the point of the blade against the edge of my jaw. Something hot tickled down my neck, into my clothes.
" You're mad," I hissed at him.
A sharp pain shot through my jaw, and blood started flowing. One sharp cut from one ear to another on the edge of my jaw. His movements had been fluid as if he had drawn a straight line on a piece of paper. I pushed down a gulp of pain.
He let go of me and cleaned the blade with the hem of his white shirt, now stained red.
" Who was chasing after me, after the award show?" I asked him, ignoring the pain and the hot blood now racing down my body.
"Kellan, of course. Didn't you recognize him? The idiot had put his own red shoes on." I couldn't remember red shoes. Not that I had paid any attention to such thing, as I had tried to get Niall and me to safety.
" He is a lousy shot," I muttered. The warmth of my own blood was disgusting, the smell of iron filling the air. The pain, however, was way worse than the heat and the smell.
Chester laughed. " He managed to hit you," he said as he touched the arm I had been shot in, the wound still tender. "I'd call that sheer luck," I replied and tried to shrug.
" Like those bombs, surely?" Chester smirked. " He did all my dirty jobs whilst I was fast asleep in my lovely little cell. What else could I have asked for?" Chester turned around to me and checked the battered watch he wore on his wrist.
" I'm sorry for the loss of your boss... Waterlane, wasn't it?" A mean smirk twitched his lips upward. " While you were sleeping soundly in that chair of yours, Kellan injected a little too much morphine into his body. Oops."
I didn't reply. I couldn't tell for certain he was telling the truth. It wouldn't surprise me if it was the truth, anyway.
" May he rest in peace," I said, my voice calm and steady. I wondered how I could provoke him, with little success with my still dulled brain.
" Ronan lives in Australia," I told Chester. He stopped dead. I knew Ronan had been his favourite. Even at that age, I knew.
"He's dating a really nice guy, James, he's called. They adopted a child from Ethiopia together. Liya - her actual birth name. I haven't had the honours to meet her yet, but the video calls with them are great. They're so happy together," I lied. Ronan wasn't actually gay, but he had a wife and no kids yet. I knew it had to hurt him to know his favourite child was homosexual.
" He's left his old life behind. Did you know he was so angry with you, he cut that jacket of yours in two?" It was a leather jacket which had been Chester's favourite. This was actually true.
" You know, your favourite jacket you'd left him. There's nothing left of it," I spoke.
" Do you still talk to him?" Chester asked me after a long silence.
" Of course. He can't really live without me, silly old Ronan. He's changed a lot though since he's come out," I laughed as if his change had been really funny. Chester didn't seem to agree, as I saw how his eyes darkened.
"He's not a faggot, you lying piece of shit!" he shouted. " It's impossible!" He threw the knife at my head and missed me only by an inch. It fell on the floor behind me.
" You ought to modernize a little if you want to survive this world of homosexuals, lesbians, bisexuals,, and transgenders. Trust me, they're everywhere," I managed to flash him a grin despite the hollowing pain.
He was standing next to me in a matter of seconds and pulled me up by my hair. The concussion made me see double with pain.
" Don't lie to your father," he said, his voice an octave lower. I managed to catch his eye.
" Kenneth McCoy is my father. Anna Fulton and Helen McCoy are my mothers. Ronan and Claire are my brother and sister. But you, after abusing and killing my mother the way you did, deserve to descent to the deepest pits of hell. You are not my father, nor will you ever be, Chester Hargraves."
He pushed me, the chair falling back. My head hit the floor with a loud bang, my hands and arms crushed underneath the weight of my own body.
" You're much stronger than that Irish popstar of yours. I don't think it'll take long for them to find his body."
I heard how the door slammed shut behind me, and how he locked the door.