Page 40 of Misery
"Yeah, he should."
Emil studies me. My older brother, who knows me better than most. "You've been watching her longer than just last night."
Not a question.
"That's need-to-know."
"I need to know. This is my house. My security. If you've been?—"
"What? Doing my job? Following orders?"
"Whose orders?"
I don't answer. Let him draw his own conclusions.
"Jesus, Oskar. How long has Runes had you doing this?"
"Long enough."
"That's not?—"
"Emil." Saga appears in the doorway. "Elfe's asking for Oskar."
I stand immediately following Saga down the hall to a room that's been transformed into an art studio slash bedroom.
Canvases everywhere. Paintings of flowers mixed with skulls. Beauty and death intertwined.
Elfe's standing by the window, arms wrapped around herself.
"Hey," I say softly.
"Hey." She doesn't turn. "This is really happening, isn't it? They're coming for me."
"They can try."
"What if?—"
"No what-ifs. They try, they die. It’s as simple as that."
She turns then, looks at me with those pale eyes that see too much. "Nothing's simple with you."
"This is."
"Why? Why do you care so much about what happens to me?"
Because I've been watching you for seven months.
Because I know you paint in the middle of the night when your nightmares win.
Because you're mine even if you don't know it yet.
But I can't say that. Not yet.
"Because you matter."
"To the club?"
"To me."
