Page 66 of Speak

“Sounds ominous.” He sips.

“I very much assure you it will be.”

“She’s a virgin. That’s a reason I’ve held back.”

I finish off my drink, lick my lips and shrug. “Not for much longer. But make no mistake, Harrington, if you’re ever the cause for her progress to be delayed ever again, or for her prognosis to worsen, just know, I saw your little tryst on the floor of the library… with your little confession and your prejudices against the wealthy, I doubt it would take much for me to convince the board to let you go. I’ve heard parents hate you.”

“Are you threatening my job, Doctor?”

I look at him with a smirk on my face. “’Threaten' is such a strong word, Professor. I prefer the term ‘warning.’ I’mwarningyou, do not fuck this up.”

Harrington grins, absurdly wickedly at me, green eyes shining like dark emeralds. “Jesus, you’re as fucked over her as I am.”

I chuckle. “Oh,friend. I am so much worse.”

I shoot a text to my little bird asking her to show up thirty minutes earlier than scheduled. I need to have the young loves caught off guard for my plan and any other plans Raven has to work.

_______

He clenches his fist above his jean-clad knee, muscles in his jaw tensing as he swallows. He stands, finally as if he can't stand the grey velvet of the sofa he was just sitting on. The salvia hue of the room is meant to have tranquilizing effects. He heads to the window overlooking the quad.

The entire purpose of the lilac color of the paint I chose for my office was for her and only her. I have freer rein here, unlike the institution where if the walls weren't a blinding white, they were bright, primary colors meant to remind you of a simpler time; where you used those particular primary colors on your fingerpaint stick figures of mommy and daddy and your dog in kindergarten.

"Do you...hypothetically," Jonas begins and I keep my face neutral. "If someone were to commit murder... if the victim were a shit... and youhypothetically, probably knew the person that murdered them... and you didn't feel bad for the victim, their brother, perhaps because you know how close they were," he rambles and it takes so much in me to not outwardly sigh with a groan and roll my eyes. "Would that make you a bad person?"

Instead, I inhale through my mouth, watching his profile and looking out the third-story window where my office is located. I let my brows furrow together in question. "You're asking me if younotfeeling bad about someone's death makesyoua bad person?"

Jonas turns to me slowly. "Hypothetically," He replies with a one-shouldered shrug.

"The person that died... wasn't a very good person, but the brother is?"

He gives a slight nod and tips on his toes, giving me an awkward, nervous glance.

"But hypothetically, you believe you know the person that may or may not have..." I look about the room and give a twirl of my wrist, trying to find the right word. "Purgedthe world of a not-very-good person and you don't feel bad about it?"

"Yeah."

Good. "Do you plan on telling the authorities?"

Jonas licks his lips, lips that have tasted the same addicting ambrosia as I have. "No," Before I can reply he then asks, "hypothetically," again, I keep in my eye roll. "If you knew the...avenger, planned on killing more, a hit list of some sort, and youplanned on helping, however you could, would that make you a bad person? Evil?"

I want to smile. I knew I liked him for her. "Well, you've switched your wording, Jonas. Did you notice? At first, it was murder but now you're saying they'reavenging. Did this person have a lapse in their mental stability?"

"No."

I nod, doing my best to not look as proud as I feel. I clear my throat and motion for him to sit back down, which he does. Only then do I open my mouth and flap philosophical jargon. The last thing I need, that Raven will need, is for him to get a conscience midway through this and then I have totake careof him.

"If a car were to drive down a barren road, without trees, guardrails or shrubbery and with a broken speedometer, who's to say it was going too fast? Can we tell it's going too fast without having the distance between trees to time it?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" He asks.

"Who is to say what truly is good and evil? Too fast or too slow? Wrong or right? If you grew up in a dystopian civilization and murdered or even resorted to cannibalism, without punishment, you'd think you were just doing what you needed to just to get by. But if a celestial or otherworldly being came and told you what you were doing was evil or barbaric and taught you a better way to live and eat, then you'd know the difference. But to you, what you were doing still wasn't evil, per se, you were justsurviving. Does that make sense?"

"More than I'd like it to." He nods.

"There are things we do sometimes that test our ethics and our morals and more often those are tied to our loyalties. Where are your loyalties, Jonas?"

"Not laying on a slab in a fucking morgue," He grumbles in a decibel not meant for me to hear.

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