He was supposed to be in custody.
One leg was already outside.
Soot covered his face.
A metal lockbox was pressed against his chest.
“How did you get here?”
“She always has someone.”
“Give me the box.”
“No.”
“What is inside?”
Daniel’s face crumpled.
“My name.”
For the first time in seven years, I heard the frightened child beneath the man.
Not innocence.
Not goodness.
Only terror left too long in darkness.
“Come away from the fire.”
“You hate me.”
“I do not trust you.”
“That is worse.”
A beam cracked above us.
Daniel tightened his grip on the box.
“She told me you would destroy it.”
“You helped destroy yourself.”
His eyes filled.
Then he whispered:
“There were others before me.”
“What others?”
“Other boys. Other names. Other families.”
He looked at the fire.
“I was the one who survived long enough to become useful.”
“What is in that box?”
