I returned Michael’s gaze and, although I loathed him with every inch of my being, I was grateful. I believed him when he said he wasn’t a monster, or at least he wasn’t always one. I guessed the years of acting as the boss of a violent mob had warped and twisted him into the thing I saw that day.
“Eat up. I’ll bring more later.” With that, he turned, and pulled Spud to his feet. Spud grunted and groaned.
“Alright, lad, alright. Let’s get you upstairs,” Michael said, and the two of them walked back toward the stairs. I watched them go, and was amazed at how tender Michael was being toward Spud. They were both disgusting, evil humans, but I saw something deeper in him. The two of them went back up the steps and were gone.
I hoped whatever humanity Michael had left was enough to keep him from killing me at the end of everything.
More than that, I hoped that Rex would tear them all to pieces.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nobody bothered me after that. I wasn’t sure what I liked better, the terrifying interactions or the slow monotony that was sitting alone in a cage for hours. I ate the food they gave me, I sat in the corner, and I waited. That was all I could do: pass the time.
They brought me another meal awhile after the first one and the guy that slid it under the bars was a man I didn’t recognize. He didn’t answer me when I spoke to him and barely even looked at me. I guessed he heard about what Michael did to Spud.
I fell asleep on the mattress eventually. There was nothing else I could do. I kept picturing Rex’s boot smashing through Michael’s head, but even that lost its charm after a few thousand iterations. There were only so many ways for Michael to die in my twisted imagination. After that, I tried to remember every time Rex touched my body, starting with the very first night in the bar’s bathroom. It was odd; the lowest point and one of the highest points of my life took place in the same bar.
There were no dreams that night. I expected nightmares, but there was nothing. Only a soothing darkness, broken abruptly when Michael’s goon shoved another sandwich and more bottles of water under the bars of my cage.
By midday the following afternoon, I smelled terrible and was almost twitching with boredom. I hadn’t heard anything more from Michael about Rex, and I could only assume that he was playing it safe. There was a completely irrational part of me that wanted Rex to smash in through the front door, guns blazing, and rescue me. But I knew that was the kind of bullshit you saw in movies. Our best chance was if he won the fight and forced Michael to let us both go free. I knew that no news was actually good news in that situation, but it was hard to see when I was stuck twiddling my thumbs.
After my third meal of the day, I realized the fight had to be getting close. I was missing then for over a day, and I wondered if anyone but Rex even noticed. Probably not, I realized. The only person who checked in with me on any regular schedule was Amy, but she had no reason to worry if I was out of communication for a few days. Sometimes we didn’t talk for as long as a week, just for no other reason than we were busy. That was what happened as you got older. Even your closest friends drift. Sitting in that cell, reflecting on my life, I vowed to make sure Amy and I never completely lost touch with each other.
I vowed a lot of things during my time in that cage, too. It was hard not to reflect on all of the mistakes I made throughout the years when I had nothing else to do but think. I ran through all of the people I’d wronged over the years, and promised myself I’d go visit my mother more often. My dad remained firmly on my blacklist, and no amount of torture or prison time could change that. My mother though, she was a different story. I never fully believed that she was in on my father’s scam, or even knew anything about it. She denied everything from the start, and always stuck to her story. The important things became clear when my life was in danger, and it turned out that my family was important to me, whatever was left of it at least.
Most important of all, I realized that I wasn’t angry or upset with Rex. I didn’t blame him for what was happening to me, and if I could have gone back and done everything over, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Well, maybe I wouldn’t have let him leave that first night in the bathroom, and again later on the Wharf. Other than that though, I regretted nothing. Ever since I had met Rex, my life was turned upside down, but I was happier. I had been drifting through my days, half there. But he made everything brighter and more alive. I couldn’t give that up, not for anything.