The door closed behind me and I burrowed my arms deeper into Mr. Bennet's jacket and trying to feel comforted by the weight. It wasn't though. The scene felt too familiar and it made me feel sick to draw the comparison. A light switched on and the shadows of the kitchen became more poignant as Claire eased her arm more comfortably through mine and her fingers tracing the outline of the pocket. She hadn't let go of me since she told him and I wasn't going to tell her to stop.
"Are you mad at us?" She asked suddenly, turning to look over her shoulder and re-linking her arm to face him. I stood facing the other direction and scanned over the details of the kitchen and the living room through the doorway. Everything looked ... different somehow. Less friendly and welcoming like a series of police tape over everything telling me that I was not wanted. Stupid furniture.
"... Just thinking," Mr. Bennet was saying and I turned around to face him where his hand was outstretched with a damp towel held out to me. I stared at it for a moment, wondering what it was for before Claire took it and started to gently wipe at my face and neck. Oh right ... the blood.
"I um ... I have something I have to tell you. Both of you," he walked over to the fridge and open it before pulling out a jug and setting it on the counter. Claire pulled back the collar of the jacket and started to wipe at my shoulders where my sleeve had fallen down. I half expected to see the bite mark still there but that was stupid. It had healed months ago.
"It's not fair to keep it from you two any longer," he walked back over and set two glasses of juice in front of us while nudging one closer to me. I didn't take it. "What you two can do ... I've known about it. I knew before either of you knew. Before Claire made those tapes with Zach." Claire's ministrations stopped and I slowly lifted my eyes to meet his, his expression solemn from behind his glasses.
"You saw the tape?" She whispered with the cloth still pressed to my neck and the tepid water dripping down my collar and between my breasts. He nodded and lowered his eyes, playing his fingers over the counter top. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"There are a lot of reasons. But mostly I just wanted to protect you. Both of you," he raised his eyes to look at me and I could hear his words ringing in my ears: I'll take care of it. I'll take care of it ...
"Protect us?" She demanded, hand dropping and breathless as she took it in. "All this time ... everything we went through?" She turned to look at me, waiting for me to back her up and express my own outrage but I couldn't. I was numb.
"I worked very hard," he leaned closer to us and his voice lowered as if expecting the volume to make an impact or nervous that someone else would hear. "I've done some things that I'm not proud of to keep you two safe."
"What kinds of things?" I found my voice for the question but I almost didn't want to know the answer. His eyes flicked over to me and I felt the weight of the gaze with everything he didn't say aloud.
"I just wanted you girls to have a normal life," he turned his back to us and put the jug of juice back in the fridge and resting his hands on the door for a moment after it closed. I could see his distorted reflection in the metal and I watched it for any hint that would give him away but I didn't see any and couldn't even feel defeated at the loss.
"And Jackie?" Claire's voice trembled and I reached for her hand, clutching the fingers and hearing the whisper choked with blood: run. "He was after Jess?"
"He's taken care of," he insisted and turning back to face us and the light glinting off the rim of his glasses. "I promise you." Unsurprisingly I didn't believe him.
"You and mom knew all this time?" Claire asked, disbelieving and her heart breaking at the betrayal.
"Your mother doesn't know," he reassured her. "Neither does your brother."
"Actually, Lyle kind of found out," Claire admitted and taking the glass from the counter and taking a tentative sip.
"Really?" He asked looking to her and her head bowed so she didn't see the sharpened panic. "Did anybody else?"
"Just Zach," she shrugged, setting the glass back down and wiping her mouth with her fingers.
"Does anyone know about you?" He turned his gaze to me and I met it but not really sure what I saw when I did or in comparison he saw from me. I slowly shook my head and the move of it exhausting. I'll take care of it ...
"Nobody else can know," he leaned over the counter closer to us and his shadow barely touching the edge closest to us. "It's the only way to keep the two of you safe. That man who tried to kill Jess ..." He looked to me and I stared numbly back. "... There are others out there like him. Who want what you both have and will hurt either of you to get it. That's why we can't tell anyone. Do you understand?" A tear rolled down Claire's cheek and I lamented that I wasn't quick enough to catch it. She nodded and he took it as a confirmation from us both.
"I'm going to pick Lyle up from practice and I'll talk to him," he straightened and just like six months before the heaviness from his voice was gone and it was like it was never there. "You two talk to Zach. Jess, you can stay here tonight and I'll call your mom to let her know you're safe." I slowly nodded to show that I understood but silently wanting to tell him not to bother. That she wouldn't be there to answer.
The water ran down the curve of my back and between my breasts and I could taste the faint metallic from the blood as it did. I let it dribble from between my lips before I spit and ran my hands back through my hair to push it back from my face. The steam had clouded the taps so I couldn't see myself in the stainless steel but even so I wasn't tempted to clear it off. I pulled a strand over my shoulder and ran my fingers back and forth over it and working out the blood that fell in damp flecks to stain the tile beneath my feet pink. I could hear her voice still. Her screams, the metal crunching as she struggled against it and the screeching as her forehead cut open. I could see the blood dripping down her cheeks and the look in the man's eyes when he saw me and the energy that broke my fall. I could hear her telling me to run and my sobs through the hallway as I did and his see his shadow as he followed. I turned the taps so the water turned off and lingered with my fingers on them as the water swirled down the drain and with it the murkiness of the blood that had faded and gone pink. It continued to drip and with it a sound that followed almost like the ticking of a clock counting down. Tick, tick, tick ... A painful gasp broke in my chest and I swallowed it down and choked as I leaned my head against the tile and started to cry, my insides hurting and the blood still swirling as the clock ticked and getting quieter and quieter with each one. Tick, tick, tick ... I quietly opened and then closed the door behind me, the lock of it clicking and loud in the silence of the hall. I peeled off my shoes and carefully laid them at the rack before noticing a pair I didn't recognize beside them.
"Jessie?" I looked over my shoulder to see my mom behind me still in her work uniform and the fabric in it wrinkled like she had slept in it and the tangles of her hair giving evidence to the theory. "Oh Jessie." She was across the room in less than five steps and she was in my arms and holding me so I felt crushed against her chest. She buried her face in my hair and I stiffly let her as I tried to let it sink in that she was here and holding me but the details of it getting lost along the way so even then it still felt unnatural. She pulled away and held me at an arm's length, kneeling so she had to look up at me and wiping a strand of hair away from my face.
"The police called and said that there had been an attack at the school and that there was a victim Jackie Wilcox and that you'd been ...," she trailed off as she brushed her fingers over my temple and the bruise that was purpling above my eye. "Mr. Bennet called to say you were safe but ... but I knew you two were close ..." She tried to smile but it trembled and fell empty with the tears in her eyes. I stared at her and searching, wondering why this woman was talking to me like a mother when it was Sandra who had made my breakfast this morning and sent me on my way with a kiss to my cheek. That's what mothers were supposed to do, right? Kept you happy and healthy and remember the details about you like you liked cinnamon on your toast and that you had hated a girl named Jackie and that you two were never close.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I brushed past her where she was still kneeling and over to the fridge that I knew would be empty before I opened it. I wrestled my bag over my shoulder anyway and took out the tubberware of leftovers Sandra had given me and sliding it onto the fifth shelf next to the eggs which appeared to have been there since the last time I had commented.
"The police assured me that you were but I ... I was so worried," she was standing again and playing with her fingers as if not sure what to do with them or leave them alone and hanging at her sides. "I knew you'd be alright with the Bennets but I hoped that you would come home." I didn't look at her, running my fingers over the handle of the fridge and to where the lady bug had eventually found its way back on the door. The wing had broken off and leaving the edge of it jagged and chipped.
"I know I said that I would be around more and I didn't follow through on that," she continued and sounding uncertain if I was listening or if the echo was the only one that heard. "And that's my fault. I fell back on old patterns and I shouldn't have and I'm sorry that I put you back on that but ... I'm trying. I really am and I need ... I want ... I want to be there for you. With this or anything else and I want you to know that. Because you deserve that you deserve better than that. And I want to give it to you." She finally finished and waited for my response and I could feel the seconds tick as I didn't give it. I ran my fingers over the lady bug's vacant wing and felt the edge tease at my skin and threatening to cut it.
"Jess? Jess, sweetie did you hear me?" Her voice came out on a pleading note and some part of me deep down begged me to turn around and face her but it was drowned out by the rest of me demanding that I let her suffer.
"Yeah I heard you," I cleared my throat as my voice came out cracked before licking over my dried lips where I could still taste the metallic taste of blood that I wasn't sure had been mine or Jackie's. "I heard you the first time. And the time before that and the time before that and ever since dad died." I slowly turned to look at her and eight years worth of anger coming up from where I'd buried it and more hate then hurt. "And I believed it. Every time I believed it that maybe something would change and that you would be willing to be my mom again. What makes this time so different? Does it take me nearly dying for that to change or is it going to be like every other time?" My voice rose and grew harder and I could visibly see the colour draining from her face, her lips beginning to tremble. "Because if I knew that was all it took then maybe I would have let them kill me like dad!"
"How dare you?" Her voice was barely a whisper but I heard it like she screamed it and felt nothing as she did. "You were not the only one who lost him, you are not the only one who's grieving ..."
"You weren't there!" I didn't know which time I meant but it didn't matter and she knew it. "You were never there! How could you possibly think that I was the only one who was grieving when you weren't there to even ask?"
"I've been trying to keep this family together," her voice shook and a tear rolled down her cheek that she angrily wiped away. "I didn't do it in the correct way but I have tried ..."
"How?" I was half laughing now and not sure if it was grief or anger or if I was going insane and this was the time it decided to show. "How can you keep this family together when there is no family left? Even before he died we weren't a family. How could you think we were?"
"Stop it," She took a step back and I saw the effort that it took for her to do it.
"Don't deny it you know why you're angry," I walked around the counter and closer to her so I could see the tears that were still in her eyes and the wrinkles that creased their edges. "You know why you're hurt."
"Stop," her lips barely moved and another tear ran down the crease of her nose but she didn't bother to catch it.
"Because when he left ... when he ran he took me. Not you," The room went deathly quiet as I said it but pulsed with the weight of the words after I did. She stared at me with her eyes searching and I could see the age in them that I had always shied away from thinking of myself having. The minutes ticked as we waited for the other to say something – to laugh and say it was all a joke or retreating back to our safe distances where the lying was so much more comforting then the truth was said aloud. It didn't come though. Neither of us took it. Realizing this I accepted the success – or defeat – and walked back over to the door to get my shoes and opening and then closing it behind me with finality to the click.
I ran the nail on my thumb back and forth on my palm and tracing the lines that were embedded into my skin. I had a friend once who told me that she could read palms before telling me that I had a long life line and pointing it out on my hand. I couldn't remember each one though. And it was stupid to think that a line could deny or encourage whether a life was long or not.
"And?" The officer encouraged, her hands folded over the glass of the table with her thumbs tapping out the seconds she waited.
"And he killed her," I shifted in my chair and repeated the words over in my head that Mr. Bennet had made me rehearse before we came in. Not enough that it sounded like I prepared but enough that I wouldn't forget and slip up. "I tried to help but she told me to run so I ..." I could see the blood dripping down her cheeks, the gash in her forehead and the unnatural cut and shape of it as her lips parted and the blood bubbled and she choked out that one word – the last word she would ever say. " ... So I ran." Mr. Bennet reached over the space between us and slid his hand into mine so his fingers could close around my wrist. I watched him as he did it, letting it sink in after he did and willing myself not to pull away.
"I'm sorry Jessica. I know you've been through a lot but I just have a few more questions," she assured me, glancing quickly at the two way mirror that divided up the far wall and then the questions she had written down. "Did this man exhibit anything out of the ordinary?" My mouth went dry and I swallowed with difficulty as I let Mr. Bennets hand tighten and the unspoken word behind the gesture: Lie.
"Besides killing Jackie?" I asked, the abrasiveness of my personality coming out and comforting me that it was still there somewhere buried underneath everything else. She glanced at the mirror again and I followed it to see my reflection staring back at me with the bruise still visible and like a trophy of my survival hidden beneath my hair.
"No, like being able to fall five stories and walk away without a scratch," She cleared her throat and tilted her head as she waited for me to reaction.
"Um ... no," I tried to sound disbelieving but was hearing the screeching in my head of Jackie's head splitting open and the way she screamed as it did and the blood poured down.
"Well, you said Peter Petrelli tackled the man who killed Jackie and that they both fell over the ledge. That's a pretty long fall," she repeated my words back to me and like she was trying to trip me up and get me to confess without even knowing what for. I almost didn't hear it though and wouldn't have care if I did.
"Peter? Is he okay?" I straightened up in my seat and Mr. Bennets hand briefly loosening from my grip before he held onto it again just as tight.
"He survived. Without a scratch," she assured me and the weight from my shoulders lifted and I sank back into the seat. "How do you think he did that?" I didn't know how it worked.
"All I know is that he saved my life," I insisted, innocent and unassuming. I could see Mr. Bennet faintly smiling from the corner of my eye, proud that I was playing the part so well.
"There was some damage done to the girl's locker room where Jackie's body was found," she continued, taking a different track as I didn't take her where she wanted. "A heavy dent in the concrete that we're still puzzling out how it was made. Do you have any idea about that?"
"School's pretty old," I shrugged, meeting and holding her gaze so she could see the sarcasm but not the lie. "Breathe too heavy in one of the rooms and a whole wall will come down." Her eyes narrowed at the joke and I scratched at the surface under the table, waiting for her to crack or look away first.
"Do you have what you need, Agent Hanson?" Mr. Bennet asked, his authority raised from the hardness of his voice and his role as my "guardian." She looked back to the mirror, more pointedly then the last time before silently admitting defeat and nodding that we could go.
Claire stood up from the chair she was waiting in as the interview room door closed behind us and wordlessly walked over to hug me and tangling her fingers into my hair. I hugged her back, burying my face in her shoulder for a moment before reluctantly letting go and taking comfort from the questioning smile on her lips.
"Everything go alright?" She asked, dropping her hand to rest beside mine and entangling my fingers through her own.
"Not my first police interview," I shrugged and her smile widened slightly at the nonchalance of my answer.
"Excuse me?" A voice called from down the hall and we looked up to see a middle aged man approaching with dark hair and a kind looking face. "Mr. Bennet?"
"Yes?" Mr. Bennet turned to face him and in doing so stepping slightly in front of where Claire and I stood.
"Mr. Bennet, I just want you to know that we're doing everything in our power to catch this man," he assured him and uneasy from the way he stood and his fingers played with the bottom of his jacket.
"Well, I appreciate that Mr...," Mr. Bennet trailed off, taken back by the promise.
"Uh, Parkman," he introduced and holding out his hand for Mr. Bennet to shake. "Uh, officer Matt Parkman."
"I really appreciate that Officer Parkman," Mr. Bennet thanked, shaking his hand before letting it drop to his side again and almost resting at my hip. "Thank you." Mr. Parkman nodded, glancing at me before doing a double take and his eyes narrowing as if he recognized me from somewhere but couldn't quite place where. Mr. Bennet didn't give him the chance to figure it out however, a hand at my back to move me forward that I followed and Claire trailing beside me with her fingers still clasped with mine.
The guard led us down the crowded hall and I tangled my fingers inside my pockets and working up a hundred different things to say with each one sounding pathetic even as I thought them.
"Are you sure about this?" Mr. Bennet asked and taking note of my unease. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak and took a deep breath as the guard stopped at a door by the end of the hall and started fiddling with his keys. The door opened and he stepped back so I could pass him and Peter becoming visible from where he sat on a cot with blood still matted to his shirt and in his hair. He quickly stood up when he saw me and I felt my thoughts shifting as if through a grater and becoming dust between my fingers.
"You're okay," he breathed with a half laugh and I smiled back so that he'd know I was.
"Mr. Petrelli, I'm Jessica's guardian," Mr. Bennet introduced and stepping out from behind me to hold out his hand and Claire uncertainly standing by the door.
"Hi," Peter took his hand to shake it but keeping his eyes on me as he did.
"You saved my girl," Mr. Bennet said, moving back and resting his hand on my shoulder. "I owe you my life."
"I was just in the right place," he assured him, still looking at me and his smile crooked on one side.
"Hey, is it okay if I talk to Peter alone for a minute?" I asked suddenly, turning to Mr. Bennet and resting my hand on his sleeve in the first sign of voluntary affection that I'd given him in months. He noticed it as well and looked down at my fingers for a moment in question before slowly nodding and turning back to the door. The guard let him out and Claire stepped back as the door closed behind him and leaving the two of us alone.
"Would you like a seat?" He asked, gesturing to the cot and aware even as he said it how poor the suggestion was.
"How did you do it?" I asked, bypassing the offer and wondering as I said it if I should have taken it first. I sat down on the edge of the mattress to remedy it but ended up feeling more awkward then accommodating.
"Do what?" He asked, sitting down beside me and his fingers clutching the side and almost touching my hip.
"Heal," I shifted so my knee touched his and my skin tingling when I did.
"It's ... kind of new for me," he admitted, looking almost bashful and up close his skin looking even paler underneath the blood. "It seems like when I'm around someone ... I can do what they do."
"Claire," I murmured, remembering how she ran into him and how it reminded me of her when his limps snapped back and his skin stitched back together. He was alive because of Claire.
"What?" He asked, forehead furrowed and leaning closer like her name was a secret that I wanted to confess.
"You're like me," I acknowledged, almost saying like us but wanting to file the moment down to just me and him for however long it might last.
"Like you? You can ...?" His eyes widened in understanding. "You can ... heal too?"
"No," I brushed back my hair to show off the bruise I'd gotten in proof that I wasn't the same. That I could hurt as much as anyone else. "I can kind of ... go invisible and stuff." I tried not to think of the Jeep right then but that in itself was thinking about it and didn't fade when I tried to stop.
"That's pretty cool," he acknowledged and his lips spreading into a breathless grin. I shrugged like it wasn't but for the first time in my life letting it fully sinking in and seeing it as it was. I could turn invisible and manipulate energy. That actually was kind of cool. Go me.
"What else can you do?" I asked, raising my eyes to his and uncertain what I would see looking back and a desire unsettled in my skin to see it anyways. His eyes were even darker up close but there was a kindness to them that I wasn't used to seeing and had convinced myself always hid something darker underneath. Not with him though. With him it seemed ... bottomless. Ugh, two meetings with this guy and I was a poet.
"Not very much," he admitted with a shrug, his arms balanced over his knees with his fingers together. "I've kind of flown before though."
"You've flown?" Even from what I'd learned this seemed to be stretching it and I was half convinced not to believe him.
"Yeah," he grinned, recognizing how impossible it sounded as I did. "Maybe I'll take you some time."
"I'd like that," I said quietly and all once feeling shy like I'd confessed something I shouldn't have and couldn't take back the honesty. If that was the case he didn't acknowledge it and instead reached for my temple to brush back my hair and his fingers lingering over the bruise that was still tender to the touch. A loud knocking echoed on the glass and I jumped so his hand slipped and I turned to see Mr. Bennet standing outside the door expectant that it was time to leave. Panic cut up my insides and I was aware of a million things I wanted to ask him and not even sure which one to lead with if I even had the time.
"Look's like your dad's ready to leave," Peter noticed and nodding at where he stood.
"He's not my dad," I corrected and less defensive then I would have been if it had been someone else.
"Sorry," he murmured and before I could think better of it I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his cheek. He tasted of sweat and blood and underneath it the faint scruff of a beard that I could still feel even as I pulled away.
"It's okay," I reassured him and he stared back at me, eyes searching and curious as if waiting for me to put a name to what I just did.
"What was that for?" He asked, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
"For saving my life," I answered and stood up, Mr. Bennet rapping at the glass again and this time more insistent. I walked over to the door that guard unlocked from the other side and turned back to look at him one last time and using the chance to commit him to memory.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Peter," I said as the door opened and I walked through it, having lied to myself a moment ago and stealing one more look back.
I pulled open the front door with flourish and was taken aback when seeing it was Zach on the other side.
"What are you doing here?" I asked as a way of hello, his headphones at their customary place around his neck and a Tupperware resting on his arm.
"Hello to you too," he grinned, something almost like affection in the way he dryly said it. That or I was still a little lovestruck and seeing it everywhere I went.
"Sorry," I conceded and leaning back against the frame. "Hello. How are you? You look well." He laughed and shifted his bag over his shoulder with his unoccupied arm.
"What are you doing here?" I repeated but this time more kindly and more appropriate considering the progression we'd made in the conversation.
"I went to your house but your mom said you weren't here so I thought I'd drop by and see how you were," he shrugged like it didn't mean anything and I felt an ironic jolt that now of all times my mom was home. "About Jackie."
"Oh right," I tucked my hair back from my face and remembering what'd I'd manage to bury for a couple of hours at least. He sucked his breath audibly and reached out to touch the bruise.
"It's nothing," I insisted and brushing my hair back to cover it. I thought of the searing of her skin and the blood as an alternative and cleared my throat to change the subject.
"What do you have there?" I nodded at the tubberware that he just seemed to notice and less startled then I would have been at the discovery.
"Cupcakes," he announced and pulling back the lid to reveal a half dozen decorated chocolate cupcakes inside with more skill then I would have done and less carnage then I would have ended up with. "Kind of a ... glad you didn't die celebration with food."
"You had me at food," I assured him and stepped back to let him in and welcoming him to share in my feast – depending on how good they turned out to be.
I closed the door as quietly as I could behind me and waited for a moment to hear if the sound of it would garner any reaction. It was quiet. And thus for the moment safe. I exhaled and dodged around the table to the stairs with each one creaking underneath me as I went. It made sneaking around tricky but I didn't feel myself if I didn't have an acknowledgement of each step. Sarcasm. I stopped on the landing and waited for anything from behind mom's door but just like downstairs it was silent. My shoulders sagged and I was torn between relief and disappointment. I knew it wouldn't last. I nudged open my door and tossed my bag up on my bed. If I was lucky I'd be able to grab my stuff before mom got back and like I was never here. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and typed a quick: Zach? Before tossing it onto my bed and going over to my dresser. Wasn't like him to take so long to reply to a text but I guess we all had our moments. I tossed through my top drawer and pulling out anything I could find that could get me through the next week or so without having to come back. Wearing Claire's clothes was nice and all but there were some areas where we missed or made up on the other *cough* chest *cough* which made a consistent wardrobe change tricky. My phone buzzed and I walked back over to dump my clothes on top of my bag before picking up it and Claire's number flashed on the screen. Something else distorted over it and I squinted to see it was a reflection and turned in sudden panic to see the man standing behind me and with less than an inch in distance between us. I scrambled away from him as fast as I could but his arms were around me before I made it halfway to the door and I screamed.
"Mom!" His hand clapped over my mouth and I struggled as hard as I could, willing the energy –or adrenaline or whatever you want to call it – into action but it was like hitting a blank wall when I tried and that panicked me more than anything. The door slammed shut as I kicked at it and he dragged me back into the room with my teeth biting at his hand and clawing at his arms.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said and his voice calm and out of place when his hand was still covering my mouth and my heart was suffocating in my chest. I dug my nails into his hand and dragged them as hard as I could to break the skin but he didn't even flinch. "I work with Mr. Bennet." I kicked back at his legs behind me but missed and hit the metal frame of my bed.
"I was sent here to make you forget. Like he sent me to Claire." My struggle faltered and my heart rated stilled as I took in Claire's name and it alone causing me to stop. He took note that he had my attention and cautiously loosened his grip. I shoved myself away from him as hard as I could and stumbled to fall on the floorboards and not even noticing the impact as I hit. He slowly knelt to my level and to maintain eye contact, the silence around him that I had noticed so many times there again and making his presence calm and unnatural.
"Who are you?" I asked, forcing the words out and my fingers scrambled at the boards for anything within reach that I could use if need be for a weapon. It was one of the times when chaos was a blessing and I managed to grip a metal protractor that I had used before I had given up on math.
"I wouldn't use that if I were you," he said simply, noticing me holding it without for a second taking his eyes off of his face. "I came here to talk but I have other measures if need be." I swallowed down the panic in my throat and thought of the picture of him standing next to the Jeep with the disappearance of it and Max that followed.
"You said you came here to make me forget. Why?" I continued to hold the protractor between my fingers but made no threatening move to use it as a just in case measure.
"For your safety and for your comfort," he said, still kneeling in front of me but no indication that he found it uncomfortable as I would have. "There are things that you know that are dangerous and that have caused you a great deal of pain. But it is important that you know them. They make you stronger and in time may be necessary for what you must do."
"What I must do?" My throat had gone dry and I tried to swallow but the weight of the question got caught.
"We all have a purpose," he said, still infuriatingly calm and still. "Like mine was to remove all evidence that you where with the boy and forget that night all together." My blood ran cold.
"Max," I whispered and even now feeling panicked that he might hear and find me and that he'd be angrier if he did. He nodded.
"Yes. Mr. Bennet wanted you to forget for your comfort but I knew you had to remember. As now you have to remember," he leaned closer somewhat and my grip tightened on my "weapon."
"Jess?" He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can you keep a secret?"