Chapter Twenty-Eight

I was violently awoken by Inanis gripping my shoulders, shaking me into reality. He did it in such an urgent way, that I genuinely thought something was wrong.

I sat up, "What?" I asked suddenly, "What's wrong?"

He stood tall, releasing his grip on me, "It's time to get up is what is wrong. Really, how did someone as lazy as you become the Bone Harvester of all ridiculous outcomes."

I frown, "You woke me up as though the building was on fire."

"Yes well, it will be if you don't get your lazy ass out of bed and get dressed before my impatience turns me into an arsonist."

"Haughty threat, but it is only seven in the morning, three hours of sleep is hardly enough for me to even stand, let alone function."

"How terribly unfortunate that you're going to have to do both."

I scowl at him, but he pretends to ignore it as he pulls on his gloves, "We have to leave in five minutes to head back to the stadium, if you're not ready in five minutes I will gut you and marry someone who knows what responsibility actually is."

"By all means," I tell him flatly, "Go ahead, that's not much of a loss for me."

Once again he ignores me as he spins fluently on his heel towards the door, "The clock is ticking, and my boredom is becoming too much to bear."

"How awful." I say, kicking the blankets off in a childish manner, I stand from the bed, and reluctantly grab an easy outfit to wear, since once I get to the stadium, they were going to force me back into the Bone Harvester's gown anyway.

I picked a small blue sweater and some jeans, despite it being the most basic outfit I could have chosen when there would be cameras all over me and Inanis, I kind of liked the idea of looking like I just got out of bed while Inanis look liked he just recovered from a photoshoot.

"Is that what you're going to wear?" Inanis asks, as he looks at the sweater and jeans that were in my hands, "Do I look like I shop at a charity store?"

"No," I said defiantly, "But I happen to love charity stores, and I am most certainly not you."

He sighed, "You really are a hopeless one."

"You made me this way." Really, I never was one to dress up, not even before I married Inanis. I just liked to insult him anyway.

"Whenever will the day come that you begin to take responsibilities for your own actions? I'm tired of being the blame, it's such a boring conversation."

I rolled my eyes, making sure he caught my physical move of sarcasm. I glanced around where I should get dressed. There was a bathroom, but because the hotel room was meant for a married couple, there was no door to it, so I saw no point in going in there to change when Inanis would look anyway.

"Turn your head, and don't look." I tell him, knowing full well he was going to look whether I told him to or not.

I pulled the shirt I was wearing over my head and dropped it to the floor. We're a married couple, and though I didn't like it, I don't think I cared whether he actually saw me naked or not.

It's not like everything he sees, he hasn't already touched before.

I stole a glance at him, and I could see he was shamelessly staring at me, well, my body that is. When my eyes caught his, he didn't bother to look away.

"You know," He said as his eyes fell back down to my shirtless torso, "I wouldn't object to you going out like that."

"Only you would prefer to have your wife strolling naked in public than in a cheap sweater and jeans."

"Image is such an important thing." He says matter-of-factly, "And you certainly have it."

"Shut up." I retort, as I try to not focus on his eyes wandering up and down my body. Maybe I should have got dressed in the hotel hall.

I pulled on the sweater and jeans, and Inanis looked physically repulsed that I did so. Though he said nothing, and he beckoned me to the door, where he walked out before I could have time to put my shoes on or brush my messy hair.

I quickly grabbed my shoes and ran after Inanis who was already halfway down the hall. "Your impatience is the fucking worst." I tell him, as I struggle to slip my shoes on while hopping after him.

"Your incompetence is far worse I assure you."

I snort, "Ironic that you of all people say that."

He placed his hand delicately on his chest, "I'm a murderer, not an idiot."

I wanted to say something terribly insulting but stopped when we exited the building where not hundreds, but thousands of people stood waiting with cameras and microphones, all shouting at us at once.

Inanis walked casually to the car as though this was just another regular Wednesday morning, and I followed him, a little more than slightly intimidated. We had over a dozen bodyguards surrounding us, the only ones surrounding us from the massive crowd of desperate reporters, and Inanis fangirls. I then noticed a man on top of one of the buildings that stood in front of us. He had a rifle in his hands and sat in position ready to fire if anyone in the crowd became a threat.

Were there always men waiting to shoot anyone who hurt Inanis? How did I never notice them before?

When we managed to get into the car safely, I sat back in the seat, not caring that half my body was pressed up against Inanis's side. "Holy shit." I say breathlessly, as I held my hand against my chest, "I'm never going to get used to that."

Inanis opened his mouth to say what most likely would be something petty and rude but stopped when some girl ran up to the window I was beside and began to slam her fists on it, screaming both mine and Inanis's names. She wore fake blood all over her body and held a knock-off novelty cleaver that replicated Inanis's.

I nearly screamed myself as I frantically scooted away from the window, my entire body nearly on top of his. My heart was pounding in my chest so hard I was sure Inanis could hear it.

"They are always more aggressive the days of my killings." He said, regarding his psychotic fans who scare me more than the actual killer himself. He made no move to push me off his lap, and I found myself feeling reluctant as I pried my hands away from him and slowly moved back to my own seat.

"Your fans are almost as crazy as you." I say, clearing my throat, insulting him was the only way I could take the awkwardness out of the conversation.

The car was now safely on the road, away from the mass of people, and I finally felt as though I could breathe again.

"My fans are now your fans as well. She was calling your name just as loud as she was calling mine." He said, as his eyes were glued out the window.

"She was holding a replica of your cleaver."

"A cleaver you would gladly use to kill me if given the choice."

"If I wanted to kill you Inanis, I would have done it already."

This made him turn to me, an unreadable expression on his face, "That's such an odd thing for you to say."

I stare at him, "What do you mean?"

He winced his eyes as though he couldn't quite understand me, and I wasn't sure why. I didn't think I said anything odd. "I'm not sure." He said finally, after a moment of silence between the both of us, like he himself couldn't figure it out. "Forget it." He returned his gaze back to the window, leaving me to guess what just stunned him.

I decided not to dwell and turned to my own window.

We said nothing for the entirety of the ride to the stadium, it felt a bit tense, but I wasn't going to be the one to break the silence.

When we pulled up to the Stadium parking lot, there were even more people waiting for us. This time there was a small path cleared out that led straight to the doors of the large stadium building.

There were triple the number of bodyguards, all pushing back reporters, and as both Inanis and I got out of the car, bodyguards surrounded us like a wall.

This time, Inanis didn't leave me by myself as he walked on. He grabbed my arm and pulled me closely beside him as though he refused to let me even an inch away from him.

This was the one time I didn't mind him holding on to me.

I noticed he completely ignored everyone in the crowd, his eyes glued straight ahead to the doors, as though he could never show interest in the repulsive filth that are American reporters.

So that's what I did. I mimicked his stature, feigned as much confidence as he actually had, and kept my eyes focused on the doors to the stadium.

The amounts of flashes from cameras were blinding, but I refused to flinch. Not even when my name was being shouted, and invasive questions were being spat at me as though they expected me to answer.

When we made it into the stadium, I exhaled a small breath, as the same stylists as yesterday rushed over to me, and practically forced me away from Inanis, and down to my dressing room.

They helped me get into the Harvester's gown and put on the belt of bone. I sat and stared into the mirror as I had three different stylists work on my hair. None of them spoke, so I drifted off into my own mind about what was about to occur.

This would be the first public execution I have ever seen. I have never seen a man get stabbed to death, and I don't want to.

How I was going to keep a straight face, I wasn't sure.

My job was to stand and look as dangerous as Inanis, while he did his work. Once his victim was dead, he would cut one of the ribs from the victim, and hand it to me. I was to hold it up to the crowd and cameras, as though it were an offering to America. An offering of forgiveness, an offering of promise that we were to make this country better by ridding it of its political filth.

It was revolting. The fact that Americans felt as though they were entitled to watch politicians be slaughtered just because they did something immoral. Nobody seemed to realize it was irony at its finest.

When my hair and makeup was done, I was told to wait at the side entrance of the stage until Inanis was ready, so that is what I did. I stood, and watched everyone behind the stage rush to make things perfect.

That's when I noticed they had the victim waiting. Caroline Lennings, the mayor of a small town in Ohio. She was sitting on a wooden stool, her hands tied together. Two policemen guarded her to make sure she didn't run.

There was mascara running down her face, she looked exhausted as though she slept not a wink last night. I knew exactly what she went through. I saw my father go through the same thing.

The past night must have been absolute hell for her.

Still, she deserved it, right? She pretended to not know of a dangerous cult in her own damn town. How do you recover from that?

And why the hell did she do it in the first place? What did she gain, other than a nightmare of a conclusion?

Unfortunately, my heart still broke for her. I tried to not feel anything at all, but I knew that was a waste of an effort. This woman was about to be killed in front of her family, in front of the entire country.

Inanis finally came out of his dressing room. He looked absolutely impeccable with a red coat, his hair neatly fixed, his gloves so polished they reflected the light. He had green emeralds placated around the cuffs of his sleeves, and around his neck a chain of silver with an odd purple stone hanging from it.

When he approached me, I pointed to the necklace, "What is that?"

"Do you like it?" He inquired conceitedly, as he lightly touched the purple stone with his gloved fingers, "It was considered a 'prayer stone', something the cult used to pray with before they killed their victims."

I swallowed hard, "Why on earth would you wear it?"

"Mockery." Was all he said, as he turned over to a young man who handed him his freshly shined cleaver as though it were a holy item.

The usual spokesman stepped out onto the stage where the crowd roared to life. Inanis's attention turned back to the stage entrance, as he eagerly awaited our signal to go.

"Hello, America!" I hated his voice. I've never met him, but he was the same spokesman that would introduce Inanis to the crowd every single month.

I hated him, and I had no reason as to why.

"I want to start off by saying there was a little mix-up in the choosing ceremony yesterday." The crowd erupted into a multitude of murmurs, questions, the confusion was thick. "Mr. Rodney will not be the victim of The Bone Cutter -today, anyway." He gave a little wink to the crowd, and my stomach turned. They were laughing about a man's life.

"Instead we shall be seeing the gruesome insides of Caroline Lennings, a sickening mayor in Ohio, who may have just taken part in the killings of thirty-six innocent young women."

And that won the crowd over. They all started screaming obscenities, curses, threats so vile even I winced.

The spokesman said some more awful things about Caroline, and I took a step back, "This is awful." I say to myself, but Inanis must have overheard, as he grabbed my arm, pulling me close to him just as he did as we made our way through the crowds earlier.

I hated that it actually made me feel a bit better.

But only a bit.

"Thirty-six women." He said tightening his grip, "Thirty-six fucking women that she could have saved if she had only spoke up about it."

The spokesman suddenly said something that made the mass of people scream, and I realized that was our signal to step out onto the stage. Inanis wouldn't let go of my arm as he guided me out and I nodded once, taking in his words.

"Thirty-six women." I whisper to myself, as a way of strengthening my confidence, "Thirty-six women."