~~

"Seeing as how my karma (which had been biting me in the culo repeatedly since I was 16) apparently still owed me a lot, and the quality of my luck was just poor overall, the chances of things going wrong for me very soon were probably quite high. I just hope I hadn't jinxed it da thinking that."

~~

I jinxed it.

My life was now, officially, unnecessarily complicated.

Why? Because there, on the screen of that PDA, tied to a chair, was Noah.

My old life just had to find a way to interfere with my new life, didn't it?

Joy.

I took the elevator down to floor A1, that nervous feeling in my stomach becoming unbearable. I had to walk through a long hall to cell 13, and was in no hurry. The piercing shrieks and screams of other prisoners being tortured hurt my ears, though. I quickened my pace.

As if on queue, right before I reached number thirteen, Charlie stepped out of the cell so suddenly I had to stop at that secondo to keep from bumping into him. Ugh, I didn't have time for him. Calmly, I walked around my co-worker and into the cell which held my blast from the past. Before the door closed, his rough hand shot out to hold it open. Exasperated, I turned to face him, letting the look I gave him do the talking. After what seemed like an eternity of staring at each other, he wordlessly held up a roll of duct-tape.
I took it and nodded without a word. Noah had a sharp tongue and a snotty attitude to match. This would come in handy.

The door was sealed, and I was alone with my charge.

Before making a sposta to speak, I studied him for a few seconds. Of course, he was still as thin as a stick, and probably now taller than me. His head bowed, I could see that his hair was a little longer; still in the same style, and his awkward clothes were gone. He wore a green sweater with green army pants. Other than that, he was still the same Noah.

His mouth was also duct-taped. No surprise there. I could only imagine the grating Noah-grade insults that he had hurled at Charlie.

mostra time.

“Hello Noah,” I said, but not in a mocking tone; just a simple hello to get things started. He didn't even flinch.

I have no idea why I detto what I detto next.

“You know me.”

Full stop.

What the heck, inner self?! No one on the outside was supposed to know I was alive. If he escaped, God forbid, the world would no doubt know I had faked my death. The only thing about me that was different than when he last saw me was my hair, which I had started keeping short a long time ago. Although risky, I guessed it this was better, looking back on my decision. I knew from the start that he would have remembered me eventually. Doing it this way saved time.

I walked toward him.

At my approach, he looked up, and immediately his eyes went wide.

Slowly, I hooked my finger under the tight silver tape and peeled it off, my eyes boring into his. He just stared.

“Say my name,” I ordered quietly.

Noah parted his dry, cracked, bleeding lips.

“Heather...” he breathed, barely audible. I smirked.

“Good boy, but why don't we keep my old identity our little secret...” I whispered into his ear. He flinched, my breath hot and uncomfortable on his skin.

As I pulled away, the entire situation sank in for him, and his expression melted into one of anger,.

“Your family...your friends...you lied to them,” he seethed, his eyes narrowing into slits. I scoffed, turning my head to glare at the wall.

“What family? What friends?” I laughed humorlessly, crossing my arms. He laughed right back.

“Oh, I forgot about that, didn't I?” he smiled mockingly, eyes still blazing. My silence invited-no, dared him to continue.

“I forgot about what a horrible person you've always been. Now that I remember, I wouldn't put it past te to fake your own death so te could unisciti a society of monsters like you!” I rolled my eyes.

“Monsters, Noah? You've hurt my feelings,” I put a hand over my cuore and gave him a mock wounded look. I was so tempted to make a commento about how one of his dearest family members and I had that little fake death thing in common, but I stopped myself before I let the truth about his father slip. I had to make sure of what he knew before telling him anything. Looking him in the eye, I could see that he was thrown off da my little outburst. Sigh. It was time for questioning.

I gave the roll of tape in my hand a squeeze while feeling around in the pockets of my black pants for things I could use. In my back pocket, my fingers grazed over something sharp, and a sharp pain shot through my thumb. A swiss army coltello with the blade sticking out. A very useful swiss army knife.

I smirked at the bookworm, keeping my hand clenched around the handy object.

“Do te know where te are?”

“My own personal hell. How do I know? You're here.” Ooh, feisty. I countered his scowl with my own emotionless look.

“Do te know where te are?” I repeated, doing all I could to keep my cool. My hold on the coltello tightened. It looked like I would need it soon.

“Answer me!” I snapped. He was silent for a few più seconds.

“I don't know,” he detto finally. I nodded. successivo question.

“Do te know why you're here?”

“No.”

I nodded once more. Time for the fun part.

“Where is your father, Noah?” I questioned. He ripped his gaze away from the bacheca to look at me, eyebrows furrowing.

“What are te getting at?”

“Answer the question,” I detto impatiently, lowering my voice to what I hoped was a intimidatingly low tone.

“I-My father is dead,” he told me, still looking at me strangely. I waggled a finger at him.

“Ah, ah, ah! Not exactly. See, your precious daddy and I have something in common. Three guesses what that little something is.”

I decided to let him have a moment for it all to click in his brain. When he finally came back in touch with reality again, I was almost taken aback at how disgusted he looked.

“My father would never sink to your level, Heather,” he said, voice deadly calm. I shrugged.

“Why else would te be here?”

I stunned him into silence with that.

Noah's head drooped. I looked down at him, arms crossed, keeping my expression stoic. I didn't have right to feel sorry for him, even if I had wanted to. It was the unspoken rule around here: indifference toward other people's problems. It wasn't my place to break that rule, even if I had been acquainted with him before.

Unmoved, I continued.

“How long has he been gone, Noah?” I specifically avoided using the word 'dead' here.

“Three years.”

“Around the time he went, was your family experiencing any financial troubles?” I half-expected him to raise his head and domanda my motives, probably with a snarky commento thrown in, but he just sat there.

“No.”

No? Now that was interesting.

“Oh really, now?” I replied. “My sources say that your father was having some problems with his dough around the time, which is why he couldn't pay back the thirty-five-thousand-dollars.” Noah's head shot up. Oops.

“What thirty-five-thousand dollars?” he asked, bewildered. I sighed, not in the mood to go through that long story.

“What thirty-five-thousand dollars?” he repeated, clenching his teeth. “Tell me!”

“The thirty-five thousand dollars your dad owes the person who kidnapped you!” I yelled, and immediately I regretted it. I doubted that my employer and his client wanted him to know this much, and I knew they would not be happy if they found that the prisoner knew più than he really should. Before he could even open his trap, I pulled out the coltello and pressed it to his neck. Obviously knowing what was good for him, he kept that big mouth shut.

“You don't need to know any more. Just remember, your life is in the hands of our client, not us,” I said, my voice serious and dripping with venom. “Whatever we do to you, it'll be because he tells us to. And the longer your father refuses to come out of hiding, the più torture we'll be ordered to inflict on you. te go free the giorno daddy repays his debt, and for your sake,” I paused to let out a chuckle, “you'd better hope that giorno comes soon.”

So the little visit concluded, but not without us exchanging parting gifts. Noah spat on my brand new heels, and I duct-taped his mouth shut. After making sure the tape was nice and uncomfortable, I left him alone. All was silent as I stepped out.

“Sweet dreams, bookworm.” With that, the door to the cell was closed and bolted shut, and I knew I would not be getting any sleep that night.