Chapter Twenty-Two

There are times that I lay in bed and think so much I wish I could put a blade to my neck and press harder and harder and harder until I see God, just so I could ask Him if He purposely made me this way for a quick laugh.

I've come to believe I'm a big mistake who keeps making bigger and bigger mistakes every single fucking day.

I didn't expect her to knock on the door at nearly one in the morning, nor did I expect her to boldly ask me to spare yet another life when we haven't even been married for a full month.

I should have stabbed her, maybe cut off a finger and threaten her if she ever makes such a stupid request again, I'd have her head like Virtus Lux and his six wives.

But the way she looked at me when I had questioned her how she planned to save Rodney's life.

"By asking."

I wonder the kind of things that go on in her simple mind. I wonder if she wishes she could kill me. I wonder what it'd be like to die by her hands. Maybe one day I can ask her to do it. Maybe one day I'll finally be able to stop wondering.

I glanced over, realizing she had left Leech in my room.

Our room.

The creature was scratching at the bed, as if trying to find a way up. I considered helping it, since it'd clearly never be able to get on.

Then, I thought, maybe I should kill it. Send a message to Mirea that I'm not one to order around.

Instead, I picked the dog up, and put it on the bed. I watched as it began to dig into the blankets, making a nest for itself. My mind began envisioning me grabbing it and suffocating the life out of it, not because I wanted too, but because I was angry at myself for showing kindness to an animal that I didn't care about.

The same goes for my rat of a wife, who believes she has power over me. Maybe she does. I allow my own guilt to control me, maybe I shouldn't have married her, maybe I should just have killed her father and left her to get over it on her own.

Maybe I should poison myself so I can get her fucking name out of my head.

I climbed into the bed, careful not to lay on the dog, I hide myself under the suffocating blankets, and watch as Leech slowly began to fall asleep.

I never cared for animals. What was the point of something that couldn't yell at me when I deserved to be yelled at?

Mirea has no trouble doing that.

I sat in bed for what felt like hours. My mind racing with thought after thought. I went as far as considering buying a whole new home in California, to what it would feel like if I had both my legs amputated and stuffed with cotton.

Angry, I hadn't even realized I was angry because my mind was so focused on everything else. Nothing but pills can stop my wandering brain and that very thought makes me want to choke on cyanide.

I find myself frowning as I clench the blankets and throw them off me just as quickly as I had pulled them on. They fell on top of Leech as I sat up in the bed and took several deep breaths.

Focusing on my breathing was so difficult.

Focusing on anything was so fucking difficult.

Figuring that a few healthy hours of sleep was a waste of my time, I flicked on the lights, pulled out my coat from the closet, and put it on. I felt better with it on. I felt in control, if not of my mind, then of my appearance.

My brain may not obey me, but my body and figure sure as hell will.

Leech poked his head out from the blankets and watched me as I ran a hand through my hair and pulled out my black gloves from my coat pockets. Clean. I look clean. I look independent. I am completely fine and in control.

I turned to the dog and picked him up before exiting the bedroom.

"Come, you disgusting animal." I say to him, as I walked down the halls of my home, "Let us go wallow in our own vile existence."

Hours passed as I drank expensive wine, and even poured some into the bowl of Mirea's dog just to amuse myself while I watched him lick up the liquid and cough it back out, only to taste is again, and repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, the stupid animal will never learn.

I watch him and find only a few sparks of amusement in his own sufferings as he coughs, and then tries again.

I sit back on the sofa with a fourteen-thousand-dollar bottle of wine in my right hand. I stare up at the ceiling and wonder how long I could survive on alcohol until my body succumbs to its poisoning.

I think this is what it means to be the epitome of pathetic.

"There he is!" Mirea comes rushing into the room, picking up Leech in one swift movement. She takes in the site of me lying (only slightly) drunk on the couch, and then glances at the small bowl of wine I set on the floor for her precious dog. "Were you giving him wine?" She asks me incredulously.

"I was merely testing a theory." I respond, as I dizzily sat up from the couch. The room spun and I found it thrilling. If I'm lucky, I could pass out, hit my head, and die rather ungraciously, but it will be death all the same.

"A theory? On how foolishly you can kill my dog?"

"More so on how foolishly I could break your heart, is it broken yet?"

She frowned, hugging Leech tightly against her. I remember her pulling me towards her the other night, and suddenly I hate that dog more than anything in the world. "You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk." I say defiantly, "I'm heartbroken."

"Oh please," She laughs, she actually laughs, "You have no heart."

I considered her words, and decided she was right. It would make a lot of sense. "My mistake." I lean back against the couch and take another drink of wine.

She slowly walks over to the sofa I'm sitting on and took a seat at the far end of it. As far as she could get from me.

I try to measure the distance between us, but she's right, I am very drunk.

"Let's pretend you do have a heart," She says after a moment of silence, "Why would you be heartbroken, Inanis?" She said 'you' as if it were a joke. As if I had no reason to be sad. Am I sad? I don't know. I think I'm actually angry, but my anger means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

I may be drunk, but I certainly wasn't completely out of my mind. "Don't bait me to tell you my secrets." I held up the bottle of wine, "That is what this is for."

"You don't drink."

"You've known me for less than two months, what do you know?"

She narrowed, "And you're not a very pleasant drunk, either."

"Well you're just a stupid rat, unpleasant since the day I laid eyes on you." Again, I take a drink.

"Okay." She stood up, "I tried being nice, but you're clearly too drunk to think clearly. I'll let you sit in your own misery, like I should have just done in the first place."

She tried to walk past me, but I dropped the wine bottle on the floor making it shatter as I quickly reached up to grab her arm.

I suddenly remembered why I hated being drunk. Next time I should do as my mother does and spit insults at people to make myself feel better.

Mirea does it exceptionally.

"You're terribly unfun." I say to her as I relished the feeling of my hand wrapped around her bare arm. "You can't even sit here with me as I wish to die for the remaining hour."

I certainly must be drunk, as the look of pure hatred on her face seemed to diminish to a softer expression. A look that didn't suit my cold, cruel wife.

"Inanis." She says finally, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

I frown, leaning my head against the back of the sofa, "I murder people for a living."

"I'm not a fool, I know that doesn't bother you in the slightest."

A give her a callous grin, "I'm married to an awful woman."

"As true as that may be, that's not it either."

"I'm suicidal."

She frowned, "No, you aren't."

I scoffed, "It's rude to assume my mental health."

"If you were suicidal, you wouldn't have told me."

"Maybe I'm reaching out."

She shook her head, considering it, "You're not the type to want help from others."

I stare at her for a long, quiet moment, "Is that another insult?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, "I'll let you decide."

We stayed silent for a long moment. She sat beside me, and I didn't fail to notice she was significantly closer to me than before.

A lot closer to me.

I wanted another drink, but remembered my drink was currently sitting in a heap of shattered glass on the floor. I thought for a moment what glass would taste like. Glass shards and expensive wine. What would it feel like to let each individual piece of glass slice through my esophagus as I swallowed a thousand-dollar drink?

I shook my head, trying to focus as I realized Mirea had asked me something.

I forced my attention back on her, "What?"

"You zoned out again."

"Yes, that is what happens when you have the mind of a child."

"You do not have the mind of a child." I could hear the disgust in her tone. She hates saying anything to me that isn't a degrading insult.

"If only you actually believed that." I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I could smell the perfume on her skin, and I despised it and wanted to taste it on her at the same time.

"You really are pitying yourself right now."

"A common quality of most drunks."

"Yeah, but not you."

I placed my hand on my head, as the spinning room began to give me a pounding headache, "Please keep telling me more things about myself that I never knew."

She exhaled a long breath, before responding, "I'm trying to be nice."

"And I'm trying to not to throw up all over your obnoxious dress." I say as I offer my own dramatic exhale.

I expect her to say something rude in response, or even get up and storm out of the room. Instead she gives a slight laugh, which surprises me, "Should I remind you that all the clothes you wear are extremely obnoxious?"

"Yes," I say, too sick to even try and force a grin, "But I pull obnoxious off very well."

She was actually smiling, and I think I may be dying. "Keep telling yourself that."

I was staring at her, and she was staring at me, and I hated myself for staring at her and not finding her repulsive.

She wasn't repulsive.

"I'm drinking because I'm bored." I lie, and the look on her face was emotionless. Whatever she was thinking, I couldn't read it.

"You can keep lying." She says at last, "But it's just a waste of breath."

I stare at the wall in front of me. I think about all the lies I've ever told and I wonder how many lies have caused more harm than good.

I wonder how much chaos I could cause through one simple lie.

I shake my head. Shut up.

Angry. Everything is making me so irritated.

"I'm drinking because you came into the bedroom last night." I say monotonously, I let the words slip off my tongue because I'm drunk, and because I like to pretend nothing I say matters when I'm drunk. "I'm drinking because I want you to sleep in our bed again." I turn to her, and see her expressionless face was now replaced with shock. I should stop talking but also, I like to see her caught off guard. "I'm drinking because you won't get out of my fucking head, and you know it." I pointed at her, putting all the blame on her because she deserves it. "You fucking know it you damn rat."

I stand, surprised by my ability to actually walk without falling. I leave the room because I don't want her to say anything to me. Her saying something means that she actually heard my confession and I don't like that fact. I don't like taking responsibility for my words. Leech who was now on the floor, quickly followed me out, as if I was the one he cared for most.

I should kick him, but instead I let him walk into the kitchen with me, as I grab another bottle of wine, and exit through the back door of the house to drink alone once more.