Chapter Forty-Nine

Fried. My dignity, or what little of it I had managed to hoard left, was fried. At this point I might as well serve my body to Inanis on a silver platter, and let him consume of me what he wished.

I'm avoiding him not because I'm ashamed of what I did, but because I want him to think I am. Ever since he most definitely 'won' in our little bedroom game, he has been adamant on his arrogance, and ten times more insufferable.

His obnoxious attitude and certainty of not being my used plaything has grown in such grand proportions that I can't stand to be near him due to him constantly wanting to touch me. He's always holding my hand, and coiling his arm around my waist, which I have nothing against, but he bothers me when he does, because now he knows I admitted to liking him. He doesn't touch me because he wants to, he touches me because he knows doing so gives him the upperhand.

What a bitch.

I am his wife. I do like him, in fact I love him. I hate that he knows that now.

If he knows I love him, then his arrogance only expands. To anyone else it would be cruel of me to be angry that they know they are loved. Inanis is an exception. He needs to be hated, or the power will go to his head.

I laid miserably on the hotel bed, the five-star quality of the room was almost so luxurious it began to mold into a fashion of what I can only describe as 'tacky'. The gold was getting redundant, and I was beginning to miss the simplicity of poor-people aesthetic.

The hotel room swung open, and Inanis strode in like a man who invented the concept of confidence. I refuse to even look at him.

"What are you doing? It's nearly noon."

"Then leave without me." I tell him, rolling over to my side.

"Your laziness is an ungodly-"

"Finish that, and I'll begin to point out your flaws." I lift my head, "I'll start with nag." I immediately wince at the insult that is so very much like something he would say. I have definitely spent too much around him.

He sighs, "Darling, as much as I would love to join you, you are leaving me no choice but to call my mother."

I lift my head off the pillow, "What?"

"Didn't you know?" He says so sweetly, "My mother is in the next room over."

"You're bluffing."

"I don't bluff. That word is so hideous."

"You're mother should be in the hospital."

"And your father should be dead." He flicked his wrist, "Is my threat working?"

I sit up, his threat was sort of working. "No. You're all talk. Your fancy threats are just a waste of verbal sound."

"Alright." He says so simply, as he spins around, and walks over to the hotel phone. I jump up so fast, the room spins. I grab the phone from his hand, and slam it back down on the nightstand.

"Fine fine, I'm up see?"

He examines my body, from the lack of pants, to the oversized t-shirt that I'm wearing, to the very messy hair on my head. "I certainly see something." He states, as his eyes trail back down to my pant-less legs, and stay there.

"Perverted bastard." I shove him away, and climb down off the bed.

"Being a bastard isn't so bad." He says, as he slumps onto the bed, watching my every move. He really is a fucking pervert. "Childhood trauma is so in now days."

I really try not to get mad at him. "Trauma isn't trendy, don't be stupid."

"And yet, I'm so couture."

"Fucking parasite."

"Aren't all bastards?"

"You know what? I'm vehemently against the saying, 'shut up, sit still, and look pretty' but really, you should do that."

He leans forward, taking note of his appearance in the full-sized mirror beside the bed, "I really am pretty, aren't I? Much more appealing than you."

"Hmm. Then keep your eyes off my hideous body." I don't even bother defending myself from his insult, because that's exactly what he wants me to do. Instead, I finish getting dressed with a bland outfit, just to really piss him off.

Seeing the look of repulsion on his face at my choice of clothing really lifts my spirits.

"Well." He says, immediately standing up, "Now that you are dressed to an extent, it is time we meet my mother."

I feel betrayed. "But I did as you asked!"

He looked at me like that was no foundation for an argument, "And?" He even had the audacity to look bored.

"She should be in a hospital, I'm not ruining my day by listening to her insult me."

He rolls his eyes and shrugs, "Insult her back, idiot."

"Idiot? Really?"

He thinks about it for a moment, "I admit, I lack any verbal ardor today."

"If that's what you call it." I sigh, when he doesn't take the bait, "Why is your mother here anyway?"

To my surprise, I don't get an insult, or a sarcastic comment back, I get the truth, or rather, Inanis's truth. "The president's death is only a few days away, my mother, obviously, wouldn't miss it for the world. It's admirable her half-dead bulk of a body has enough incentive to fly all the way here to the show. I was told she arrived earlier this morning, but she's still on oxygen. The fungus who birthed me just refuses to die." He shrugs his coat on, "How unfortunate, but rather academic in a medical viewpoint."

"I don't understand, she adores you, why do you want her dead so badly?" The casual tone of this conversation was something I could hardly comprehend, and yet, I was participating.

He glances at me, "Want her dead? Is that what you think?"

"Don't you?"

He ponders this, before he gets distracted by me putting on shoes, "Are those really the shoes you're going to wear?"

I grunt, "You don't like sneakers?"

I think I see him physically gag, "Don't say that word."

"Sneakers?"

He waves me away like a rodent, "Poor people clothes."

I inhale, and exhale. Inhale the urge to slap him, exhale the urge to slap him.

"Are we going or not?"

This seems to remind him we actually had things to do, "Right, let's get this over with."

We head out of the hotel room, and down the hall, where Inanis guided me into another hotel room, one that looked identical to ours. Really, if I never saw gold décor again it'd be too soon. Inanis's mother was laying on the couch, and I didn't think it could even be possible, but she looked even worse than when we last seen her at the hospital.

Her eyes were sunken in, and she did look like she lost a bit of weight. Her cheekbone were poking out, and her eyes were glazed, like she was here, but not really here.

I felt a sudden sharp stab in my chest at the sight of her, though I don't like her, it's obvious to anyone who sets eyes on here that she wasn't going to live much longer. Inanis, with everything else going on with him and the execution, this was the last thing he needed to deal with.

Despite his insults, and casual dismissal of his mother, I knew he cared for her, how could he not? Nobody else in his life has cared for him as she had.

"Is she asleep?" I whisper to him, and shrugs.

"Let's find out." He steps over to the side of the couch, reaches his hand out, and slapped her face. It wasn't hard, but hard enough for me to gasp.

"What the fuck?" I hiss, running over and grabbing his arm, "Are you serious?"

He looks at me so innocently, "You must admit you want to do it too."

"You just slapped a dying woman!"

"She's fine, so dramatic." He pulls his arm from my grasp as his mother's eyes open. "Good morning mother." He welcomed her with a smile, a smile, might I add, that looked a bit too sharp. "Mirea slapped you, I tried to stop her, I really did." He tsks, and shakes his head as if so disappointed.

I squeak immediately taking a step back, "I did no such thing!"

He quickly grabs me by the waist, pulling me against him so I don't sneak out and leave him alone, "Don't worry mother, I'll punish her accordingly."

His mother couldn't speak, a ventilation mask was taped on her face, so she could only stare at us. When her eyes move to me, I see her thick, repulsive hatred, and even though she was stuck on the couch, I feared her.

I reach my hand up and grab his wrist. My fingernails dig into his skin and I know it hurts. All while I smile sweetly at him, "That reminds me, since we're confessing, Inanis was just telling me how much he loves you, and how he desires more than anything to spend more time with you."

The horror in his eyes was my chaotic pleasure, "Objection, I love no one, and only desire to spend time with myself. We only came to make sure you haven't been buried yet. Good day, mother." He turns to leave, but my fingernails do not leave his wrist.

I keep going, "He also mentioned that he cleared up some time today actually to-" I'm cut off by him smothering my mouth with his hand.

"We will let you rest." He gave her a sour smile, and yanked me to walk along with him.

When we were back out in the hotel corridor, he dropped my hand like it were rotten. "That was absolutely horrific. I'm traumatized, I think I might pass out."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Traumatized because your mother thinks you love her?"

He leans against the wall, his hand on his chest, "Yes, God, I can't breathe."

"You're such a baby, also that's what you get for blaming me when you slapped her."

"Yes but I was joking. It's funny when she's mad at you, but it's horrible when she's kind." He visibly shivers, "The feelings of a loved one are so," He waves his hand in the air as if to find the right word to say, "smothering."

"So you do love her then?" I grin, and he glares at me.

"No, that's ridiculous."

"Is it?" I leaned against the wall beside him, "Then why did we go visit her in her room in the first place? We didn't even last five minutes."

He sticks his hand into his coat pocket, and pulls out a small bottle of pills, "When she had her heart attack, I found out she had fallen and fractured her foot."

I read the label, and my very minimal, if even transparent fraction of respect for him that I had left, completely vanished, "Holy fuck, Inanis, are you kidding me? You stole her pain killers?"

"No, I borrowed them, with no intention of giving them back."

I gawked at him, and quickly reached out, attempting to swipe them from his hand. He expected it, and lifted his arm back, out of my reach. "Darling, we don't have time to play this game, we are going to be late you know."

"You have to put them back you fucking asshole."

"Umm, no I don't have to do anything because I can do what I want."

"You're a criminal. Who the hell steals their mother's pain killers when she's dying?"

"I do, obviously." He says as if it really were so obvious and not a big deal, "Besides, I need them."

"I've never seen you take pain killers."

Now he looks offended, "They aren't for me. Who do I look like? Please, I have better self-control than that, wife, give me credit." He shoves the bottle back into his coat pocket, "Now really, we should be going. We have a nine and a half fingered vice president to meet."

I stare at him, dumbfounded, as he intertwines his arm with mine, and pulls me down the hall. Every day he seems to act more and more unhinged. He butchers people on television for sport, and yet, this felt worse somehow. I always knew Inanis was a immoral piece of shit, but this was a whole new low, even for him.