Page 61 of Red Fire

His eyes narrow. “Why would you want to see him?” He shakes his head. “No, that won’t do at all. Besides, he is being patched up so that he will be strong enough for questioning. We will expect a full confession from him.”

“A confession for what? He hasn’t done anything wrong, and if you’ll just listen to me, I’ll explain everything to you. Creed—”

“Hmmmmmm.” He rubs his chin, looking at me like I’m a bug under a microscope. “This is bad. Really bad. You may think you are fine, but you are not.” He shakes his head. “You were used and hurt, and in the worst of ways, only you don’t seem to realize it. I have studied some of your human psychology, and what you are feeling has a name; it’s called Stockholm syndrome. Have you heard of it?” He doesn’t wait for me to reply. “It’s when a victim starts to develop positive feelings toward their captor.”

My mouth falls open. “You think I have Stockholm syndrome?”

“Yes, it’s clear to me that you do.” The colonel nods his head. He believes the shit that he is spouting wholeheartedly, and I can’t believe it. My mother always used to say that there is one thing worse thannoknowledge, and that’ssomeknowledge. Colonel Taro is a perfect example of having a partial understanding of a subject he knows nothing about.

“You’re not a qualified psychologist. You couldn’t possibly know that.” I shake my head in disbelief.

“I have read up extensively on—”

“It’s not the same as having a qualification. You need to know that Creed kept me safe and looked after me. If it weren’t for him, I—” I start to say.

The colonel makes a tutting noise. “You poor dear. Your brain is muddled up. You need time and therapy. We can offer you a safe haven here at the castle until the next flight to the Mainland. You will be remunerated for your troubles. You can use the money to get help for yourself. To rebuild your life.”

“I don’t want your money. There is nothing wrong with me!” I yell, standing. “I want to speak to someone else. I demand it.”

Just as before, Colonel Taro ignores me flat. He walks out of the room. When I try to follow him, my path is blocked by two burly guards.

“He didn’t do anything,” I scream. “He helped me! Creed is innocent!” I shout louder, but he doesn’t register what I am saying at all. He keeps walking.

“Please be calm, female,” one of the guards says.

“You should sit,” the other one tells me. He closes the door in my face.

I scream and hit the wooden surface, realizing that my behavior isn’t exactly helping to convince them that I am of sane mind.

Shit!

Creed is about to be “interrogated” and it’s all my fault. I need to find a way to get these idiots to listen to me and fast.

22

Creed

I’m surrounded by guards. I find myself wondering where they took Octavia. I’m sure she will be treated well.

“There,” the nurse says as she finishes cleaning the last wound. “Do you want stitches in that gash?” She is looking at my head.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” I’m not sure why they are bothering. It’s not like I’m going to get an infection.

She opens a small cupboard and takes out a container, opening it and pouring six white pills into her hand. “For the pain.”

“No!” the lead guard barks.

“He should—”

“I said no!” the guard growls.

“Thank you, anyway.” I incline my head. “I wouldn’t mind some of that water.” I look longingly at the glass she set out, ready for me to take the pills.

“No! The prisoner doesn’t deserve anything but a slow death.”

“I didn’t hurt the human.”

“We’ll soon find out,” the guard tells me. “Get up!”