I watched as his eyes began to flutter shut. He tried to fight it, but soon enough all I could see were pits of blackness lightly framed by eyelashes.

The demon Peter didn't say anything, which surprised me. I'd kind of assumed he'd go crazy being locked up like that. But what did I know anymore? Those bastards were full of surprises.

His gaze didn't waver, but he softened his grip. I took the hint and recoiled my hand, sliding it back up under the layers of blankets.

There was no expression on his face, the old Peter's sadness wiped clean. He just watched me, blank and unreadable. Oddly enough, it was still oddly comforting. If I had to choose between the two evils I laid between, I knew one would be far less likely to hurt me.

That's how I drifted off to sleep every night, sandwiched between those evils as they both watched me. I'd never actually turned around to affirm this suspicion, but I could feel his eyes just as clearly as I could feel the loaded gun that sat between us.

My sleep got lighter and lighter. If I managed to drift off I would be jerked awake by even the slightest move or sound. Every night was a miserable process, and you could see it in the perpetual bags under my eyes.

But as time went by the bags were the least of my worries. The rash on my finger began to grow, creeping up my arm a little more every day. The skin was a deathly ash color, impenetrable with even the priciest lotions and serums.

Randall watched me scratch at it with a smirk on his face. Peter just kept helping me rub it down with moisturizer to reduce the uncomfortable dryness. Supposedly his felt the same way all the time, even though they looked different. His was angry and red, whereas mine looked dead and ashy in comparison. He looked burned where I looked rotted.

I was trapped in the house for a few weeks while our supposed tropical honeymoon played out, which was fine with me, I would only be allowed to go to the salon or whatever, and I had no interest in going.

Once that was over my life continued very similarly as it had before the wedding. It appeared my sole job was to be decorated and paraded silently through social events.

On most days I woke up alone. Randall, Peter, and the gun all gone from the night before. I wash my face and brush my teeth, but at some point, they took away all my makeup. I wasn't allowed to put it on myself anymore.

I put on whatever is hanging in my bathroom, which is usually how I found out what I had to do that day. If it was something sophisticated, It meant I probably had to go with him to something where I would spend hours listening to people talk about things like money and politics.

But if the outfit was simple and girly, it meant my obligations leaned more towards brunches with strange women or spending time on the property doing something stupid and time-consuming.

Based on the white cotton dress and blue cardigan I saw hanging there, this time, I assumed it would be the latter. The sleeves indicated I would also probably be around other people. I had to cover up the rash obviously, It would be hard to explain away.

I slid on the outfit along with my slick leather gloves before heading downstairs. The collar was tight around my neck and I pulled at it a little bit before a firm hand appeared out of nowhere and began guiding me out towards the car. There was no point in resisting the rough movements. It was essentially the only way I was ever touched at that point. Whether it was a firm leading grip or a scolding smack, there was little reprieve.

I climbed into the back seat where Peter was waiting with decaf coffee and Ibuprophen. Over the counter drugs were the only type I was allowed to take, which included caffeine much to my dismay.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked.

If there were any positives about the situation, it was probably how well groomed Peter had become. Not that he'd looked bad with his old grungy mountain man look, but he pulled off the business persona quite well. He acted as Randall's assistant during the day, which I figured was just Randall's passive aggressive way of pissing him off.

"Fine." I yawned, taking the stuff from his hands and shooting back the pills instantly. Coffee was essentially pointless without caffeine in it, but I still drank it in an attempt to trick my brain into waking up.

While we chit chatted on the way to the salon I began my obligatory back rub. It had become a routine of ours due to his unfortunate sleeping arrangement. If I didn't his back would bother him all day.

When we got there we instinctively went to our usual spot in the far corner of the building. Everyone greeted us like they normally did, and all of the unfamiliar customers eyed us curiously. There's nothing shadier than a non-famous girl with two bodyguards following her.

I took a seat and they went to work on my face. They spent most of the time talking to Peter. I couldn't blame them, the bodyguard couldn't talk, I didn't want to, and Peter definitely working his goofiness. It was a miracle they didn't get mad when he used their expensive hair products as hand lotion just because it was in a pump bottle. I'd say it was probably because his hands were so sticky from it that he kept getting things stuck to himself for the rest of the day and looked like a kitten who accidentally got something stuck on one of its claws and can't seem to get it off.

When my makeup was done my hair was brushed out and touched up with a curling wand. As they did It I watched one of the girls trim Peter's cuticles. His fascination with the process made me smile a little.

"So what's the plan today?" The girl asked Peter.

"Bowen is going out to visit with an old friend."

The girls eyebrows raised, "Who?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

She let it drop, but I sure as hell didn't. This was news to me and I wasn't sure how to feel about it.

I kept my mouth shut until they were done with me. I thanked the girls as they packed up their stuff, knowing this place wasn't really set up to all of that stuff. I could imagine it was a pain in the ass.

As soon as we were out the door I asked, "So who's this friend I'm going to see?"

He just smiled, "Don't worry, you'll probably like it."