K eeping busy was the remedy Pax had chosen in order to deal with his time back at Eden. He sat within the arsenal room and occupied himself with the many weapons that needed cleaning. As he sat on the stool by the workbench, classical music coming from the CD player, he hoped that working on anything would also help ease his worry. The talk with Alex did little to squash those thoughts. In fact, he believed it worsened his unpleasant mood. He blamed it on Alex’s silence. The man stared at him as he went over the details, not once interrupting. And when Pax finished, he gave no reassurance or caring gesture.
     Just a few more weeks, he kept reminding himself, and I’m outta here.
     Pax heard the sound of hard soled shoes coming down the hall. He knew that no hunter within the Estate or SEVEN wore such shoes. The confidence within the owner’s strides left him with two guesses. As the footsteps entered the arsenal room, Pax glanced up to see he was right. Riff Kenrick, the trigger happy daughter of Anthony, the man who held the gun to his head that lovely autumn day.
     Returning to his work, Pax deliberately chose not to greet her. He heard those boots of her clank on the hard floor as she strolled around the room, showing a fake interest in the weapons sealed behind the chain-linked cases. The sound of her shoes stopped at his side.
     She allowed a minute to pass before speaking.
     “We’ve never had the time to talk,” she began, leaning against the workbench.
     Pax continued to ignore her.
     “I can understand why you don’t like us. But I’m not like the rest of my family.”
     With the gun cleaned, Pax began to reassemble it, still choosing not to answer her.
     “I did some light researching before we left. Your mother was my father’s sister. She was the oldest of three: Catherine, Anthony, and Helen. I don’t remember her. And why should I? She was already gone before I was born.”
     Pax picked up a new gun to clean.
     Riff watched him for a moment then spoke. “Even though Redthorn refuses to acknowledge you, I still consider you family.”
     “That’s funny,” Pax replied, “cause I don’t.”
     “And I also know that you’re straight. I’ve seen how you’ve looked at Leigh.”
     “I have no interest in Leigh,” he said.
     Riff shrugged. “That would mean there’s someone else.”
     Pax stopped what he was doing to swivel in his chair, finally facing her. “You can drop the ‘kiss and make up’ act. I know you don’t like me and I’m certain I don’t like you. This little attempt to buddy up to me isn’t going to work. So run along and report this failure to your mummy and daddy.” He turned back around and continued working.
     Taken aback, Riff crossed her arms. “Wow. You are the most insatiable person I have ever met. I was trying to be sincere. We are half a world away from my family, and I allowed myself to drop my guard. Forget I even extended a caring hand.” Disgusted, she marched out of the room.
     The fading sound of her boots sent a wave of relief over Pax. He responded to her “sincere” speech, his voice echoing in the room, “Blah, blah, blah.”
     Pax knew better than to fall for their attempts to make friends with him. He was an outcast, a loose end that fell through the cracks of Cassius Law. Gay or straight, they wouldn’t let him live. Sexuality had nothing to do with it. An abomination was an abomination.

“Well that was a waste,” Riff said as she fell onto Jake’s bed.
     Jake sat at the desk, typing at his laptop. “Paxton?”
     “Yeah. He’s a tough one to crack.”
     “I told you not to try.”
     Riff sighed, not wanting to admit defeat. “The thing is, he’s too smart for his own good.”
     Jake let a laugh escape. “What do you expect? He’s family.”
     “But he saw through everything!”
     “Just keep at it. He’ll yield eventually.”
     She didn’t like how simple Jake made it out to be. “I don’t think he will. He’ll never be fooled.”
     “There’s always the other one, Jonathan,” Jake calmly reminded. “We’ll find a foothold somewhere.”
     Riff rolled over and screamed into the pillow. “My God, this place is so boring!”
     “Why do you think they sent us instead of coming themselves?”
     She lifted her head as an interesting thought came to her. “Maybe they’ll have another massacre here.”
     Jake entertained the idea, as well. “We can only hope.”

Across the hall, Danielle tried to take an afternoon nap. Though her body was tired, her mind refused to let her sleep. From the silliest of ideas like finding a swimming pool filled with butterscotch pudding, to a small fish being eaten by a larger fish and that fish being eaten by a much larger fish, sleep seemed like an unreachable goal. Then her mind replayed the most recent events. She wanted to shake the images from her head, but they returned each time, added with the new feelings they invoked. Blindly, she placed a hand to her neck, remembering the bite and the sensation of his body against hers.
     “Stop it…” she whispered to herself. Stop.
     Danielle opened her eyes and glanced around her darkened room. The curtains were drawn to help her sleep, but it had no affect. Her mind was too chaotic to rest. Exhaling in aggravation, she pulled herself from the bed and headed in to the bathroom. A bath seemed like the perfect solution in order to relax. As the water ran, she grabbed a change of clothes and a towel. Unlike her bathroom at home, she had no access to the finer things—no bath oils or fragrances, only the essentials. And after six months, Danielle was beginning to yearn for those pampering accessories. They would make the relaxing process much more easier to slip into.
     As she settled in the bath, the hot water encased her body like the heat of a summer day. She imagined herself floating in a sea of warm honey, with every twitch of a finger and slightest movement slowing to a crawl. And as her mind seemed to reach this one point, she began to think of that night and him.
     The same images returned, the scene skewing this time to reflect a different state of mine. This wasn’t fear she thought she felt, this was something dangerous. The vision of him bended into what her subconscious called out for. Through her closed eyes, Danielle could see him before her, lips moving over her chest and meeting hers in a kiss that sent the rest of her body to burn with excitement. The vision, real enough to awaken everything within her, blurred the lines of imagination. To her, she could feel his hands over her body, his own hunger for her just as strong.
     Danielle welcomed him, the weight of his body becoming lost within the water. She felt his mouth on her neck, the same place he tasted her before, and then the pressure of his teeth against her skin. As his teeth broke through, his body descended upon her further, the rush of this act causing her to gasp.
     Danielle’s eyes flew open. She withdrew her hand. What was she doing? Her rational mind sprang into action, scolding every part of her for being so naive. I can’t believe what you were doing! She bit her lower lip and stared at the water’s surface. Half of her wanted to continue the fantasy, but the other half…
     “Idiot,” Danielle whispered. “Getting your rocks off with a…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. “I definitely need to get out of here.”
     She took a deep breath and slid under the water, hoping to wash the thoughts from her completely. To even entertain those ideas felt as though she was betraying everything she stood for.
     Danielle emerged, the rinse doing little to ease the phantom hands from her body. She wanted to burn them away, to squash them, to cut them, anything to set her mind right. Her eyes landed on the white and yellow razor. Inspecting the plastic surrounding the blades, she twisted the edges. The plastic snapped. Carefully, Danielle removed the two blades, setting the broken plastic to the side. She stared at the grey, thin metal. These little things held the gift of a clearer mind. Choosing one of the razors, she placed the other next to the broken pieces. Tiny cuts… cut it away… cut out these thoughts…
     She bent her knee, raising her thigh out of the water, and pressed the razor to her skin. In a slow, deliberate motion, she opened her skin. The blood ran down to mingle in the water like wisps of bright red hair. She felt the pain left by the razor, and it was the only thing she could think about. Her solution worked. She pressed the blade into her skin once more, this cut going further and deeper. The pain was stronger. No more pesky images found her. The sight of the blood leaving her skin and entering the water fascinated her more.
     But Jake was right. She had to kill him. This was his doing. He infected her mind. She would never break Cassius Law intentionally. For these images to stop, she had to do what she was meant for.
     Danielle’s mind was set. She would be the one to kill David.