Quoted By:
Three years ago, you would've found this incomprehensible. But you've built up a healthy Richard dictionary since then, God save you, so it's fairly plain: this is the plea bargain. Except you're not guilty of whatever he thinks you've done, or whatever you did isn't a crime, not to anyone sensible, so— so— maybe if you were beaten down, you'd take it. Maybe if you failed Gil and were feeling low and worthless. But you didn't, God-damnit, you saved him, <span class="mu-i">without</span> Richard's help, so you <span class="mu-i">know</span> whatever he tells you is lies, and whatever he does— well, you have a sword, if it comes to it. Don't back down now. "I don't know what you're talking ab—"
Your sentence ends in a sputter, because Richard, in a kind of juggling act, switches to holding you against the column by grasping your neck. He isn't squeezing. Exactly. But his well-maintained fingernails are digging into your skin. "Then let me rephrase," he says. "What did I tell you <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i">specifically</span></span> not to do, Charlie?"
God, there's too much to list. Does he mean recently? He probably means recently? Oh. "The key?" you manage.
"You lost the key. Which <span class="mu-i">could've</span> been on accident. I know how careless you are." His breath is warm against your face. "But you took off the headset, didn't you? And you snapped the cord. The cord provided exclusively for your protection and safety. I thought you might have a death wish, but you've come back quite unharmed, haven't you? So you thought you didn't need it."
Oh, God— so you were exactly right. You didn't do any of that. But Richard won't believe you if you tell him divine magyck was responsible, or worse he will, and it'll incense him more— so you may as well incense him more the regular way. "Um, I-I <span class="mu-i">didn't</span> need—"
"Shut the fuck up." Now he's squeezing. "The way <span class="mu-i">I</span> see it, this is the culmination of a recent and disturbing trend. You seem to believe I'm <span class="mu-i">superfluous.</span> That what I do for you— what I <span class="mu-i">sacrifice</span> for you, regularly— is unnecessary. That if only you were rid of me, your life would be joyous and fulfilling. Bullshit."
You breathe thinly in response.
"If you were rid of me, you would be dead. And I don't mean stabbed or poisoned or evaporated." He tilts his head. "I mean that you live by my pleasure, Charlotte Fawkins. I could stop your heart like <span class="mu-i">that</span>— if I felt merciful. Or I could make you bleed out your eyes. I could strip the motion from your limbs and leave you alive in the wastes for the sharks. Or worse. You remember what you did to that gangly man today? In the arena?"
You don't want to.
"Quite. The fact is, Charlotte I can toss you aside and obtain a cooperative and <span class="mu-i">grateful</span> replacement and nobody would bat an eyelash. You don't seem to understand that. In your infinite ego you think that this is somehow about <span class="mu-i">you,</span> that—"
"What i-i-i-i-in the goddamn is <span class="mu-i">happening?</span>"
(3/4)
