Chapter 9: The Freezer

“You’ve seen my wife, right?” Hank asked, ordering barbecue and beer.

“Saw her once in the hallway.”

“What do you think?”

“Pretty—your wife is a beauty.”

“Aren’t you curious how I, with my looks, married someone like her?”

“Not really, Mr. Hank. You’ve got a business, income, skills. These days, not many people can support themselves, let alone a wife.”

Hank grinned. “Kid, you just play games at home? Never think of getting a job?”

I smiled back. “Playing games is a job. You’d be surprised—lots of people pay me to play for them. Bored college kids, dads who can’t keep up with their kids on Fortnite.”

Hank mulled it over. “Guess it’s like not cooking for yourself, hiring a chef.”

“Exactly.”

Hank’s mood eased as the hours passed. Fueled by beer, he ranted about the landlord, the rent, and how he’d have to go back home, quit. I understood—he was planning to run.

We didn’t really drink much in five hours. Neither of us wanted to get drunk, or dared to.

The hours dragged by in a haze of cheap beer and burnt ends. Every time the server dropped off another plate, my nerves edged closer to unraveling.

After we returned home, I locked the door and crept to the wall hole. Hank sat by the bed, smoking at the freezer. No one else was there. He finished his cigarette, then lifted the freezer lid. Inside the freezer was an arm in pink cartoon pajamas. My hands went numb on the wall. I couldn’t breathe. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping when I opened them, the world would be normal again.

I stayed awake all night, heart pounding, the city outside droning on. The truth pressed in on me—heavy, suffocating, undeniable.