Page 22 of Moth
I don’t challenge him this time. I just run, powering forward until I’m outside, hurrying down the street. Only when he’s safely in the distance, do I find myself withdrawing the slip of paper. My hands shake as I unfurl it, but I’m forced to smooth it out against the side of a nearby building to appreciate the image in full.
A laboriously sketched dragon rages, seemingly alive though formed out of ink and bold lines. Its eyes meet mine unflinchingly, proposing a question I’m not brave enough to answer.
You’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to you, wouldn’t you?
I crumble it into a ball and start toward a nearby trash can. In the end, I return it to my bag instead. As I head home, I grit my teeth, desperate to ignore that niggling question.
Would I have?
My racing heartbeat provides the answer my pride refuses to acknowledge.
Given his personality, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
