Chapter Fifty-two

The Harvester's gown is heavy. My anxiety and dread feel heavier. The belt of bone hangs on my waist, and the diamonds coat the gown like glitter.

I can see everyone's anticipation for the day. This is the biggest even of their lives, and there is a great possibility this will be the last time a presidential killing would occur. Though, I doubt that.

Inanis seems stuck in his own head. When they finish in his dressing room, he came over to mine. His usual crimson coat decorated in jewels and lace, he looked as gorgeous as he always does.

He sits beside me, as the stylists finish my hair, and leave us to talk. "I'll be right beside you, Mirea." He says, leaning back. "Don't think about it, just press the blade against her neck, and slice. That's it. You don't even have to look, keep your eyes closed if you have to. You'll realize just how easy killing someone is."

"That doesn't help."

A frown, and then, "Okay, well, if it'd help, I have my medication-"

"You want me to drug myself?"

He looks so tired, "I'm just trying here, okay? This is it, if you just, go through with this, then we're done. We are done, Mirea. We can go back home, and sleep for a month, we don't even have to leave the house, just-" He struggles to even speak, "Just do this, just get it over with, and do it."

I've never seen him so desperate for something. His usual confident aura was completely gone. He looks simply like a man pretending to be Inanis Messor.

It was sad to watch, but it still didn't cover up the fact that he was asking me to kill an innocent woman in public for the sake of the American approval. Did he not understand how wrong that was, how does he not care?

"Okay." I say, even though I feel like throwing up. He stands, and takes me hand, forcing me to stand with him.

"I'm going to be right there, Mirea."

My stomach flips at his kindness. He's never nice like this, it's almost normal, and that's is really peculiar for him.

And then, I wonder, if this whole time, the reason he has been losing sleep, is because deep down, he's uncertain that I'm going to be able to do it.

This whole time, could it be, that he's been scared?

I stare at him, and he's beautiful. I feel my heartbeat racing in my chest, simply because I love him. He's a pain, and his personality is quite possibly the worst I've ever seen in someone, but I love him for it, I adore everything about him -with the exception of the stealing his dying mother's pain meds, and chopping vice president limbs.

"Inanis, you know I love you right? I-" I try to continue, but he cuts me off by pulling me in, and kissing me. He holds onto me tight, like he refuses to let go, and I can feel his desperation in the kiss, his extreme dedication to our marriage, and his certainty that it will not last.

I then begin to question, if it ever was supposed to last.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling his warmth. Our chests together, I can feel his own racing heartbeat. He felt, just like me, anxious, perhaps even terrified.

When we move apart, he says, "You'll do fine, it's not so hard."

"Right."

"Right." He has his arm coiled around my waist, and we, together, walk out of the dressing room.

The backstage was chaos. This was a big moment for so many people. The country was partying, all gathered around their screens to watch the United States President slaughtered on national tv. Of course, it wasn't just America watching, it was the world.

People from every country were going to watch this. Millions of eyes, all on us.

"Five minutes!" Someone yells, and I think I might pass out.

"Good luck out there." A random person who was part of the crew said, but I could barely register a thing.

And then, I see the President and his wife. They are in handcuffs, brought in by security. They white cloths tied around their mouths so they can't speak. The president looks shaken, as he tried to speak but can't. He's frantic, moving around, his body trembling. I hardly feel bad for him.

His wife on the other hand, was still. She kept her eyes trained on the floor, her body only moving when she is told to.

She looked thin, like she hasn't had food in days. Her hair was nicely done, which was part of the performance. She wore makeup, and an expensive gown.

She was lovely, and they want me to kill her, for no reason at all.

I didn't realize I was staring at her, for as long as I was, until Inanis grabbed my chin with his hand, and pulled me to look at him instead. "Don't." He tells me, but I can't help it.

I spokesman on the stage begins to speak to the crowd, and there are more cheers than I've ever heard at once. We aren't at our usual venue, with only a couple thousand seats, that Inanis kills at every month. No, we are at a stadium, that holds up to seventy-five thousand people.

It was a sold out show.

I calm my breathing, as I watch the President and his wife be escorted out onto the stage. We were next.

I feel Inanis beside me, and then, we are called out, and the crowd is louder than ever before. I as I move out onto the stage, all I see it white, the lights, cameras flashing, phones recording, cameras on, I see so much all at once.

The cheering is loud, and I feel so small.

Because this is a presidential execution, we aren't allowed to speak to the crowd. We stand on stage, side-by-side, and bow to the public. The crowd screams for us, and we have to pretend like the room is as silent as we are.

We both turn to face the President and his wife. Inanis is supposed to kill first. I watch him take out his jeweled cleaver, and weigh it in his hands. The stage lights glint on the metal of the weapon, making it shine bright enough for everyone in the stadium to see it.

I looked up at my husband's face, he didn't look tired like has been looking that last several days, only due to the fact that he had makeup on. Still, I could see it, past the determination in his eyes, and the professional stance, I could tell, he was so utterly done with this.

He walked over, pulling the cloth out of the mouth of the president. The president had no dignity to keep quiet. He screamed, "Fuck you, Inanis, fuck you and your fucking ugly bitch of a wife-" And that was his last words, as Inanis plunged the blade into his body, over, and over, and over, and the crowd was ecstatic.

When he was finally dead, the people cheered like they've never cheered before. I felt like I could hear the cheering all across the country, every man and woman, sitting at home, laughing and smiling, and for what? A vile man is dead, is that worth such merriment?

It was my turn, and I took the blade from my sleeve, holding tightly in my palm. I can hear Inanis' voice in my head, reminding me all I needed to do was one simple slice.

One slice, it didn't have to be as messy as Inanis' act. I could press the blade against her throat, and not even have to open my eyes as I moved my arm.

I walked over to her, and with class, and integrity. She looked up at me, as I reached out, and with a shaking hand, gently removed the cloth from her mouth. She smiled at me, a forgiving smile, "It's okay," She said, "I understand."

I lose it, tears fill my eyes, and I can't see. I try to keep a steady grip on the knife in my hand, but my hand was shaking so bad I lose it, and it clings to the floor. I reach down to grab it, and when I get back up, I simply stare at the sharp object, and struggle to breathe.

I think about the last several months of being married to Inanis. How I've gone from hating him with every bone in my body, to be considering murder for him.

I do love him, I love him more than I've ever loved someone.

And yet, I purposely drop the knife again, face the crowd of people, all so clearly confused and waiting, and I say, as loudly as I can, "I won't do it."