Chapter Four

The Bone Cutter stared at me for a long, silent moment, spinning the cleaver in his hand as if he had to ponder the situation. My father, who only moments ago held the face of a man who had too much pride to care about dying, suddenly looked like a distraught child.

"No." My father begged, "No, Mirea you stay the hell out of this."

Inanis held his hand up to my father, as if to silence him, "Now hold on."

The audience felt dead, not a word was heard from anyone. The tension in the room was so thick I could reach out and grab it.

My father stared at Inanis in disbelief, "You can't seriously be pondering this? It's against the rules!"

Inanis whipped his head to my father's direction, "Sir, have you forgotten? I am the rules." His voice was venom, every word came out off his tongue like fire. With the jeweled cleaver in his hand, his words made this all the more a nightmare.

I refused to cry, "So you'll do it then? You'll let me take my father's place?" I was so concerned for my father's safety, I didn't dare think about the fact that I could die instead.

"No."

My heart sunk, "What?" I took a step forward to the stage, "Why not?"

"Why not?" He crouched down on the edge of the stage, our faces inches apart as he studied me, "Maybe because I don't want to kill you. I mean look at you, you're so small and. . . boney." He leaned back in disgust, "America will feel betrayed if they don't get their entire meal." He patted my head like a dog, "Sorry, doll, I guess you'll have to live a little longer." He faked a pout, "So sad."

He stood and began to walk back towards my father, but I wasn't having it, "There must be something I could do." I dared to climb up on the stage with him, momentarily unaware that all of America was watching me.

"Darling I said no."

I must have looked incredibly desperate, for even my father couldn't look at me as I watched him fix his eyes on the stage floor. "You said you make the rules, so perhaps just this once-"

He cut me off by sighing dramatically, "Enough with this, you're boring me." He waved me off, "Go away now."

I crossed my arms, I could feel the tears begging to fall down my cheeks, "No."

He rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed, "Someone come and get the girl off the stage please."

Not even seconds later, I was being grabbed by two security officers. I screamed, thrashing in their grip, but they never let go. I shouted profanities at Inanis, telling him that he was the one that deserved to die.

He didn't look even slightly bothered at my outbursts, in fact, I could have sworn I saw him crack a grin.

I take everything back, he doesn't deserve to die, he deserves to be tortured.

I was taken behind the stage into a room with white walls, and wood floors that were covered in filth. In the room was a couch covered in stains, a metal table, and a small television which showed Inanis and my father on stage.

The security officers sat me on the couch, and left the room, slamming the door behind them. I immediately got up and tried to open the door, but of course it was locked.

I slammed my fists on the door in frustration.

"Well then," Inanis's voice came from the television, taking my focus off the door and on to the screen. "Now that your daughter has been locked away like an animal, have you any last words, Mr. Dhalmi?"

My father spat on Inanis's shoes, "Go to hell you fucking devil."

Inanis stared at the cleaver in his hand, "Yes well, I have no plans to go to hell just yet, but when I do I'll be sure to say hello."

My father glared at him, to which he only gave him a smug grin in return.

You can see Inanis grip the cleaver tightly in his hand as he takes a step back, assessing how he wanted to strike. I couldn't watch, I frantically tried to find the power off button on the television, but the room was so dark I couldn't see anything, let alone a tiny button on a large screen.

My father braced himself, as Inanis raised the weapon up, they both locked eyes, my father refusing to look weak any longer.

I cringed, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen.

I don't think I was breathing, as I watched motionlessly as Inanis held the cleaver up, any second now he'd stake, any second now and my father will be dead on nation television.

I braced myself, as you could see my father also tense up, ready for the blow.

But it never came.

Inanis stood in that position, his weapon held up, his eyes locked on my father like he were the only person in the room, but he never delivered.

To my shock, he lowered the cleaver, and slumped his shoulders, muttering the words "Jesus Christ," under his breath. He turned his head to the crowd and cameras, "I apologize everyone, but there will be no execution on this day." You could hear the crowd's disappointment as they screamed and shouted at Inanis, begging him to continue on. "I know, it's devastating, believe me," He placed his hand on his chest, "I'm as distraught as you all are." He didn't look distraught at all. Something told me he wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart.

Inanis bowed to the cameras once last time before the broadcast was shut off.

I have never felt more relieved than this moment. I slumped back on the filthy couch, not caring about anything other than the fact that my father would live another day.

Suddenly, the door of the room swung open, and I hopped to my feet in an instant.

Inanis came barging in, "Do you understand the consequences of what just happened? Ninety years of constant killings, all ruined by you." He pointed at me, "Have you no respect for tradition? What is wrong with the youth these days?" It was as if he were talking to himself, "Now I have so much work ahead of myself it's exhausting me just thinking about it."

He didn't look exhausted, he didn't even look mad, as he spoke to me, the was a spark in his eyes, he looked almost thrilled at today's events.

"So, are you going to kill me then?" I asked, cutting him off.

He cocked his head to the side, "Kill you?" He scoffed, "Why would I do that?"

I blinked, "Because you spared my father's life."

"Yes, and as tempting as it is, I'm not going to kill you."

I took a step back, "If you don't want to kill me, then what do you plan to do?"

He looked at me like I was stupid, "Well I'm going to marry you, of course." He said it so normally it was as if he was telling me the weather.

I took another step back, almost tripping on the couch behind me, "You want to marry me?" He must be joking. The status of a Bone Cutter's wife isn't something to just throw around to any girl on the streets. Being the Bone Cutter's wife isn't just a privilege, but something iconic, people idolize you. Women want to be you, children aspire to meet you. It's an honor, and a ridiculous platform for anyone to have. I would have laughed if I wasn't standing in front of a murderer, "You must be joking."

Inanis shrugged, "Who is a better fit that the one woman who stood up to me in front of the world? I have no reason not to choose you."

This can't be happening, this can't be real. I'd rather him kill me. "And what, you expect me to fall in love with you?" I jeered, I could just hear the sound of my father breaking his bones at the thought of Inanis even touching me. I'd break his bones if he ever touched me like that.

He took a step back, his hand on his chest, he feigned disgust, "Eww, no, of course not, love is gross, and I'm not such an easy target. Just because I'm a man doesn't mean my feelings don't mean something, you know."

This guy couldn't be serious. "But you want me to marry you?"

He sat on the table, crossing his legs, eagerly he sat forward, gripping the sides of the table until his knuckles bled white. "Yes." The smile on his face was absurd, I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. This man has killed hundreds, he is an abomination to anything moral. Even being this close to him makes my skin crawl. "Marriage is just a game, a document, a sentence." He waved his hand, "I've no use for love when I've got the next worst thing."

I eyed him questionably.

He seemed to understand that I was completely lost on his little philosophy, and I actually think that made him even giddier.

He makes me so terribly uncomfortable. I dug my nails into my palm, wanting to feel anything but his piercing stare.

"I'm struggling." He said with a dramatic sigh, "I do my job, I do it well, but it's burdening me, because America is starting to wonder, you know? Wonder why a man like me gets to kill and walk free."

I sucked in a breath, "Because this country is a joke?"

"No, silly thing, I'm the joke. " He faked a pout, "People just don't take me seriously anymore. Which is where you come in." He hopped off the table though he only just sat down.

His energy puts toddlers to shame.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and inhaled the scent of my hair, being this close to him was excruciating. He smelled like cigars and gasoline, I don't know what I expected, but not this. "We are going to be a duet." He said matter-of-factly.

"A duet?"

"A marvelous one. One where I kill, and you stand there and look unapologetically solemn. The country has been waiting for me to find a woman to stand beside on stage, it's time I grow up and accept that I can't live in freedom forever."

I shook my head, trying to comprehend everything, "So, you, the man who nearly just killed my father, want me, the girl who couldn't hate you anymore, to stand beside you, on television, in front of America, and be your wife."

"A daunting task, I'm sure."

"Don't patronize me."

He smirked, clearly amused, "Don't be so rigid, all you Americans are so prideful. You don't always have to pretend you're all brave and independent."

"I'm not pretending."

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, right, and I'm not the god of bone."

I snorted, "You're not a god."

"And you're not very pretty."

I wanted to kill him, right here, right now. "You know, for a man with such a status, you're awfully childish."

He stared at me, "I kill people for a living, did you expect me to recite the dictionary?"

Well, no.

I took a deep breath, trying to make sense of this all, "So, if I marry you, you won't kill my father?"

"Your father is free from my hands, but I can't promise that the rest of America will be as willing to let him go."

"I want him to be protected."

"We all want things."

"I'm serious," I tell him, crossing my arms, "Guarantee his protection and I promise I'll do anything you want."

"You dare try to bargain with me? The one who could kill him this moment?"

I swallowed, "Please protect my father, Inanis."

He smirked, either at my begging or at how gently I said his name, "You're such a brave little thing." He pretended to ponder, "Well, alright, I guess I could have a few of my men watch over him until this all dies down." He pulled me closer to him, our bodies touching as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, "But then, do remember, my darling Mirea," How he knew my name without asking was beyond me, "You did promise, whatever I desired of you, you must comply, do we have a deal?"

I thought about my father, I thought about how willing I was to die for him. I'd do anything to keep my father alive. Anything. "Yes," I said, not looking away from Inanis, "We have a deal."