Chapter Thirty-Seven

Everything was in absolute chaos. If it weren't for Inanis's obsessive need to keep me moving, I would have already passed out from the crazy.

There were riots outside the White House, and others taking place all over the country. All of America was in pieces due to the betrayal of our twisted president. I don't blame them for being angry, but I find the riots to be unnecessary, and only making matters worse.

Burning businesses and looting from innocents isn't going prove any point, other than the fact that this country is inhabited by animals. They don't care about what's happening in the White House, they only want an excuse to pursue crime.

Inanis and I were to announce to the public the presidential killing, which will be July 4th, a fitting date.

July 4th was only six days away. Six days for me to gather my sanity and protect it at all cost.

The worst part was that we had to announce the killing here, at the White House, where the president and the first lady will boldly stand by our sides.

I will be mere inches away from the woman I will slaughter with my own hands in less than a week. It was revolting, and I could feel my skin crawl at the thought.

Inanis was ecstatic, of course. Always moving, never stopping. His eyes were lit up in a manner of such intensity, that I couldn't find it within myself to bring him down.

He's never looked so alive, and because the situation was so absurdly vile, I'll let him feel it, just this once.

"You should really eat more, wife." Inanis says, resting his feet up on the dressing table in front of me, as a hairstylist was fixing my hair. We were both getting ready to announce the date of the president's killing. Inanis was already dressed up, his usual embellished attire with not a hair out of place.

I, on the other hand, found myself lacking in every department. My eyes were dark from lack of sleep, and my skin pale from understandable nerves. My ribs poked out through my dress from my inability to eat the last couple of days since the announcement. I looked like a corpse, and I felt like one too.

"Says the man who pokes at his food." I retort, but my heart wasn't really into insulting him right now. My mind was focused on other things.

"I don't poke, I prod."

"You're five years old." I say, hoping it'd offend him only slightly enough for him to get up and leave.

"Five and a half, at least." He replies, and I realize that even calling him childish won't ruin his good mood.

It's not often you get to kill the president.

I have noticed, that though he has kept moving everyday since the announcement, he refuses to leave my side. I've never spent so much time with him in all our marriage as I have the last few days.

It's as if he refuses to leave me, and at this moment, I'm not sure if I'm grateful for him, or resentful at the realization that his constant companionship is something I'm beginning to depend on.

He really did act like a five-year-old, the resemblance between a child and him is an uncanny evaluation, but in all honesty, that was one of the more amusing qualities about him.

At least I'm never bored. Spending all my time around government officials, is as dull as one could imagine it to be. I'm grateful for Inanis's child-like colors amongst all the professional grey.

I glance over at him, he's sitting in a chair beside me, his feet crossing over each other as they rested on the freshly polished wood of the dressing table. He ignores the shuffling of people in the small, compact room with us, all preparing different outfits for me, and a spare outfit for him in case something goes wrong.

Which really meant, in case he stabbed someone and got another's crimson bodily fluid all over his expensive suit.

I study him, the perfection of his stature and attire was the biggest lie here. As precise as he was about his looks, it wasn't fooling me anymore. I knew when he was stressed, I knew when he was bothered.

As excited as he was, he still looked exhausted. I don't blame him; he's barely slept anymore than I have. His energy has been dwindling the past few days, and I don't think I've seen him eat once since all of this has erupted.

The coat he was wearing was beginning to look a little too big for him, and I could see his cheekbones prodding out much more than usual. I felt my chest tighten just at the sight of him.

"You know," I say out loud, as I watch him study his reflection, "You should really eat more too."

His eyes barely glance at me through the vanity mirror as he says, "Food is boring."

"Food keeps you alive."

"Yes," he continues to argue, "but it's boring."

"That's a terrible excuse to starve yourself."

And to that he turns to me, "I certainly do not starve myself."

"You weigh less than a twelve-year-old boy."

"I don't recall telling you my weight."

"I don't recall needing to know your weight to see you look like a prepubescent middle-schooler."

He snapped his fingers and pointed at me, "A prepubescent middle-schooler that you've had your hands, and your mouth on. I can still feel your body on mine you despicable individual. No better than the president himself. I'm going to need therapy for years. My innocent youth is ruined, tainted by your awful desire to hurt me. You should be ashamed."

I gave him a disapproving look, but he ignored me as he returned his gaze to the mirror. My hairstylist was as silent as the dead, and I don't blame her for looking uncomfortable. Being around Inanis makes nearly anyone nervous. He may look weak, but his powerful status is one to bring even the cruelest of men to their knees.

Moments later, my attire is on, my hair is set and my arm is intertwined with my husbands as we walk out of the dressing room, and towards the dozens of different camera crews, various news outlets have sent their best reporters to snag a chance to speak with Inanis and I. I don't doubt that they'd want a word with the president, too.

Inanis leans down and whispers in my ear, "All of their eyes are on us."

"Isn't that normal?" I mutter back, not caring just how arrogant I sound.

"Oh, but this is an entirely different cast of eyes." I peer up at him, and see he's frowning, "They are eager for the end results."

"So is the majority of the country."

"They don't care about the execution, Mirea, they care about the paychecks. The more viable information we give out to these contrived, famished suburbians, the bigger their wallets become." He gives me a trial look, "So say nothing."

"Your distaste for reporters seems like a deep wound." I make fun of him, "Psychological perhaps."

"No," He corrects me, "I just don't like those who thrive on gossip. It's a bad look."

A man approaches us and explains that we will be going live within the next few minutes. We are both guided to the area of the building that we will be filmed. The president is standing beside his wife, but they both hold opposing expressions. Despite their fate being the same, the president looked as white as a corpse in a coffin. His wife, on the other hand, held her head high, a defiance radiating off her slim figure like she was above all of us. In this moment, I believed her.

She knew she would be killed when she outed her husband's dirty secret, and yet she told the public anyway. By doing so, she brought awareness to the evil her husband and many other twisted individuals have been doing.

I stood beside Inanis in front of the many cameras. The First Lady stood to my left, and her husband on her other side. I turned to look at her, and we both caught gazes. She gave me a slight nod, as though she recognized I had no choice in the matter. She knows I don't want to do this, and I hope she will find it within herself to forgive me anyway.

"Thirty seconds, and we'll be live." A voice from behind one of the cameras shouts. I feel Inanis's hand drop from my arm and suddenly I'm cold and naked. I don't look at his expression as I instantly find his dropped arm from his side and latch onto it again.

My eyes are shut tight, not only because the lights on us are nearly blinding, but because I feel myself getting more and more anxious, despite being nearly sick about it already.

And then Inanis grabs hold of my hand and forces it off his arm. The gesture itself makes me stumble only slightly forward but I quickly find my balance before anyone else notices.

I don't look up at him, I don't want him to see my shock, and genuine disappointment at such a minuscule, but rude action.

I will never grab hold of him again.

"Ten seconds!" The voice says again.

I'm scolding myself for even reaching out for him to begin with, when he unexpectedly grabs my hand with his own, and squeezes it. Tight. I'm so caught off guard by the gesture that I make the mistake of looking up at him.

He doesn't look at me, his stature calm, almost lazy even, as his eyes are professionally trained on the camera. An act in which I should also be portraying. I return my gaze swiftly back to the cameras the moment the man calls out, "And, we're live!"

The president is to speak first.

"Hello, everyone." His voice is as weak just like his ability to control his revolting lust. I cringe at the sound of him. I can barely find the strength to look at him.

Beside the cameras is man holding on large white signs, all telling him what to say.

He's not even speaking to the public with his own fucking words.

"There is nothing that I can say or do to establish to you how sorry I am. My actions have caused harm to many. I do not deserve compassion, or mercy for my crimes, nor do I deserve a country so rich in humanity and burgeoning opportunity. There is no greater country than one with faultless morals, and there are no greater people than those who will look past their political differences to denounce a worthless,-" He swallowed hard, the words clearly not of his choice, and yet, he continues, he has to, he has no other choice; "a worthless man such as myself."

Inanis's hand warms mine, and I'm naturally grounded. His confidence in himself is like a parasite that I can't help but catch. If he stands tall, then so will I.

I don't realize he's talking until his smooth voice surrounds me. "There is no mercy granted to a man who pleasures himself at the site of a child." Despite his absurd words, Inanis gazes over at the president with an expression of pure class. His eyes are bright, and I don't know if I want to smack him for looking so eager or kiss him for being so unfairly attractive. "I will be sure to present the nation the justice it deserves by slicing you like the worthless swine you are." There is no one in the room but the camera crews, and reporters, and yet I felt as though I could hear a mass of people cheering for The Bone Cutter.

"My wife will be joining me in the execution. There's nothing that screams the good ol' USA quite like a romantic duo working together to better this country." He drops my hand and instead, unprofessionally snakes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. "The Harvester and I are thrilled to enact such well-deserved justice, and we look forward to the ceremony. Mark it on your calendars, type it in your phones, July 4th, only six more days, and I swear to you my fellow Americans, you will have their heads."