Chapter Fifty

"I feel sloppy, like I'm dining with pigs." Inanis looks up, "Kurt, do you think you could move over a bit, your face is killing my appetite."

The Vice President frowned at Inanis, but nodded once, and sat a few chairs over, away from Inanis's direct view.

"Much better, though I fear my appetite has dissipated, how fortunate for my insides." He shoves the plate of steak and vegetables away, and I frown at his yet another refusal to eat anything. "Mirea, dear wife, how is the food for you?"

I stare at him, knowing he expected a specific type of answer, but not caring enough to find out what he was wanting me to say. "It's good enough to eat, as you should, dear husband."

His expression of feigned amusement never falters, "If I wanted to be sick, I wouldn't have told Kurt and his nine and a half fingers to move."

I try to contain my sympathy for Kurt, but the look of defeat and submission spun around the man like a curse.

"Let's not talk about his fingers, okay? We are eating."

"I'm not eating, and I love to converse about missing limbs. Kurt, come here, let's see what else we can spark conversation about."

I kick Inanis's leg hard, so hard in fact, that he flinches, and slowly turns his feigned look of anticipation from Kurt to me.

"Wife, that was rude."

"Husband, you are being rude."

"Yes, but I'm allowed to be, I cut his finger off."

This was a disaster. I stared back over and Kurt who was beginning to look a bit pale and sweaty.

"Are you feeling alright?" I ask him, and he dabs at the sweat on his forehead with a napkin.

"Just a bit hot." He confesses.

"You look terribly pale, perhaps some water?" I stand but Inanis grabs my arm and pulls me back down to my seat.

He watches Kurt like he's observing a mystery unfold. His eyes never leaving the sweaty man who was now holding his stomach like he were in intense pain.

"I think we should call for some help." I say quickly, "I think he may pass out."

"Yes Kurt, you're looking very reminiscent of a pig now. Bloated and sweaty, absolutely hideous."

"Enough, Inanis." I snap at him, and remove his hand from my arm, rushing over to man who looked, at this point, nearly bloodless.

What was going on?

Inanis didn't move from his seat. With his elbows on the table, he rested his chin on his hands as he simply observed the scene before him like it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Kurt suddenly doubles over out of his seat, and vomits his food and blood onto the floor. Inanis grimaces at the sight, but I can see a spark of intrigue in his eyes. That is when I'm certain he's responsible for this.

I gawk at him, "What did you do?"

He pretends to look offended, "Innocent until proven guilty."

"Enough games, Inanis, what did you do?"

He rolled his eyes, but dug his hand into the inside pocket of his coat, and pulls out his mother's pain killers.

My eyes widen, "Did you-"

"I wanted him to be sick, that's all." He glances down at Kurt who was almost limp on the floor, "I may have overestimated his ability for tolerance."

"Inanis!" I shout, and get on my knees beside the man, "We need help right now." I was about to tell Inanis to go get someone, but I knew he wouldn't. Instead I stand, and run out of the room, telling the first houseworker I see to call for an ambulance.

Eventually an ambulance does come, but they are too late.

Inanis isn't just about to kill the President of the United States, he also just killed the Vice President.

"This is absurd." I say to myself, as we both watch them haul the body into the ambulance with lightening speed. "I can't believe you just did that."

He waits until the ambulance rushes off down the street before saying, "Again, not my intention."

I turn to him, aghast, "Not your intention? The killing is in two days, Inanis, and now we won't have a fucking President or a Vice President."

"Well, the Speaker of the House just got a big upgrade in job qualifications."

"This isn't funny, you fucking idiot. You just killed an innocent man!"

"As if I've not done it before." He says like that was a great defense, "Besides, he's a politician, there's always something they're hiding."

I'm suddenly tired, and bored of these games. "Why? What could you have possibly gained?"

"Again, I didn't want him dead, I just wanted him out for a bit. You know, a long hospital stay, perhaps a marking in paperwork that claims him suicidal, a little something to ruin his reputation so he'd be disqualified to become president."

"For what reason?"

He frowns, and looks back down the road where the ambulance went, though now long gone. "I began to think he may have been a threat. Like in a few years I'd have to do this all over again. I don't think I want that."

I don't think it's about him wanting it, I genuinely do not think he could mentally handle the pressure of killing another President. Most Bone Cutters don't even get the ability to kill one president, but to do it twice was a madness.

Still, it was concerning that Inanis had miscalculated so grandly as he just did. If he was telling the truth about only wanting to put him down for a bit, he should have known just how many pills to give the man that wouldn't end his life.

It seems as if he is thinking almost erratically. Like he is not thinking at all.

This night has been the worst of outcomes. We return to our hotel, and Inanis is unusually quiet for the duration of the night. He lays on the bed, his eyes trained on the ceiling as if he is so lost in his own head, he is trapped within it.

I don't know what to do, my repulsion for him due to the needless murder today was thick, but again, he is a Bone Cutter, is it really any different than what he is paid to do every month? Just how much value does a life have to have, for me to be angry over this one, and not think twice about the countless others he has intentionally killed? The interviewer he slaughtered on television, the many people he has killed just for cheating on their spouses. Why is the country so engrossed in such acts of violence?

I sit on the bed with him. He barely acknowledges me at first, until I say, "You should get some sleep."

"His murder was an accident, but I'm not entirely upset it has happened. It was amusing for the time it occurred."

I don't take his bait, because I sense he is trying to cause an argument due to being consumed by his own thoughts, instead I say again, "Seriously, you should get some sleep."

His eyes go from the ceiling, to me. "You're not angry." Not a question but a statement.

"I'm not angry."

"Hmm." He considers that for a moment and then, "That's too bad, I like it when you're angry."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"You're aware of my fetish? That's unfair, I hardly know any of yours."

"Do not start this tonight." To my surprise he obeys. He's silent, and I can see the bruise-like discoloration under his eyes, as if he is so worn out, it is eating away at him.

I don't understand it, and I know I can't ask. These interviews, the outfitting, the constant parties and dinners, they are such usual occurrences for his job. Yes, they aren't as spread apart as normal, but it isn't that different than what he does all year long. Why is it so different this time? Why is he so obviously overwhelmed?

If I asked him, he'd never tell, he'd simply make a joke about it, or brush me off like a child asking a stupid question.

One more day and the president will be killed. The whole nation is preparing for it, as if it is a national holiday. Inanis enjoys the public eye, so why is he so burdened?

I lean my head down on my pillow, and we both lay beside each other in an uncomfortable silence. I can't stop thinking about Kurt, a man who already feared Inanis, now suddenly gone so easily. I'm sure his passing is already all over the news. The country will face three losses this week. Kurt, the President, and the First Lady.

I think about her, the woman who has to be killed simply for being a man's wife. She played no part in her husband's sin, and yet I'm to kill her anyway.

I've never killed anyone, before, which would make it hard enough, but to kill someone entirely innocent of any wrongdoing? It's sick.

"I don't think I can kill, Inanis."

He doesn't sound surprised, simply he says, "And yet, you must."

"What if I don't?"

"What ifs don't matter when you must."

I glance over at him only to realize he's been staring at me. There is a content look in his eyes, and I can tell how serious of a matter this was to him.

"Alright." My heart flips.

"I'll be right there, Mirea, it'll be fine. Killing is easy."

"It's not, it's just easy to men like you."

"What is men like me?"

I think about his odd ways, how he somehow does care about me but lacks any sort of feeling for most anyone else. I know he cares about his mother too. I know her decrease in health is bothering him.

These things seem so human, I know he's not psychopathic, but then I'm unsure who can carry out the vile acts he so willingly does.

"Sad. Men like you are sad."

I expect an insult, some witty attack towards my own weakness to kill, but he says nothing.