Page 37 of The Taskmaster
“The... They called you ghost boy,” he went on.
“Because I didn’t speak,” I added.
“No,” he replied, and I stopped talking.Here’s the rope, Gabriel. Now fucking hang yourself.
“They called you ghost boy because you didn’t exist.”
The fucker stopped there, which really pissed me off.
“YOU’D BETTER START FUCKING TALKING!” I screeched, and he started to take deep breaths as if he was having a fucking panic attack. If he didn’t start spilling soon, I’d give him more than a fucking panic attack to worry about.
“I don’t know any more,” he said, which was a fucking lie.
“Shall I tell you what I know, then?” I hissed, gripping the edge of the metal desk I was standing in front of, feeling like I wanted to crush my fingers through the steel and destroy everything in front of me. “I know you did fuck all to find me a safe home. You kept me there as long as you could so they could take me to that fucking basement every night to do what they did.”
Another pause.
This part always felt like I was gouging my own heart out, shoving my hand into my chest and ripping out my insides, so I’d feel a different kind of pain. Different to the memory of the pain of what they did to me.
“You brought other boys to the home, I saw you. But they didn’t stay as long as I did. They got out. You came back for them and sent them to new homes. Better homes. But me? I had to get myself out.”
“I thought you were dead,” he gasped.
“That’s what I wanted you to think. But not a day has gone by that I haven’t replayed it over in my head, the way you insertedyourself into my situation and used me. You’re as guilty as they are, even if you didn’t go to that basement. You knew what they were doing. You knew what I was there for.”
“I didn’t?—”
I cut him off right away. “Don’t bother with the bullshit. We both know what’s gonna happen today. And I want answers. Maybe if you give them to me, things might not be so bad for you.” They would be. But a little hope sprinkled his way wouldn’t hurt if it helped to get him talking.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, his head dropping forward again, and so I let the games begin.
“Let’s start this the right way. I invited you here as my guest, and I’d like to play a game. You might know me as ghost boy, but now, I am The Taskmaster. Tonight, you have a task ahead of you. You may have noticed that you’re sitting in a tank. In a few minutes, that tank will fill with water. You’re chained to the floor, so as the water rises, your chances of survival will fall.”
He started to sob. He knew what was happening here.
“But you have the chance to stop the water. Remember, this is a game, and if you play by the rules, you will win your reprieve.” For a few seconds, but he didn’t need to know that. It was more fun to show him. “To stop the water, all you have to do is answer the question I ask you truthfully. Is that clear?” I asked, and he slowly and reluctantly nodded his head as he sniffled and sobbed. “Are you ready to begin?” Another nod and I pushed the button that made the water rush into the tank.
As the water began to fill the bottom of the tank, he cried out, trying to shift his body, but he couldn’t move from the crouched position he was in. The chains he was tied to the floor with made sure of that.
“What is your name?” I asked, starting with something simple to get him into the swing of things.
“Gabriel. Gabriel Tolley.”
I pressed the button to shut the water off, and he shuddered from the chills the cold water gave him. I didn’t give him long to relax into things though. Immediately, I pressed the button to start the water flowing back into his tank.
“What’s my name?” I asked.
He sobbed, but managed to say, “Isaiah Dalton.”
He’d used my previous surname. I didn’t go by Dalton anymore, but I wasn’t going to split hairs over a minor technicality.
“That’ll do, I suppose,” I replied, and shut the water off again.
A few seconds ticked by, and then the game resumed with a rush of water through the pipes.
“Why weren’t there any records for me at Clivesdon House?”
“I don’t know.”
