Page 140 of Anathema Codex

He tenses up, then takes a deep breath before looking at me again. “Sure.”

I nod as I rub my chin. I’m trying to think of a tactful way to ask what I want to know.Like it fucking matters if it hurts his feelings, I think with a chuckle.

“Have you peeked in your box yet? I went through a lot of trouble to bring your present home, you know. I put a lot of work into getting your preciousBeahome,” I state, spitting the nickname he bestowed upon her like the garbage it is.

Ichabod shakes his head. “No.”

“No?” I echo, feeling slightly annoyed. I think it catches in my tone because he glances at me again, this time dropping his hands into the dirty bathwater and sighing.

“I’m sorry I haven’t looked in the box. Thank you for bringing Bea home.”

The way he says it is robotic and it’s infuriating. I want to lean over and backhand him again, however, doing that ensures his dick stays limp and I’m not going to let that shit happen all because his preciousBeadidn’t come home in one piece.

She’s lucky she fucking came home at all.

She never once stepped foot into my home, and I only did it because he called me a goddamn liar. That and the look on his face when I first came back from the high desert without his bitch bestie. I’d never seen someone look so low in my life before, and even though it cheered me up, it bothered the shit out of me at the same time.

Oh, well. I made sure she’d never forget him again. Can’t have many memory lapses when you’re dead.

“Lakyn?” Ichabod’s tone is tight and slightly annoyed.

“Yeah?” I ask as I mentally leave the desert bitch in the past where she belongs.

“I said I’m finished.”

“No way,” I reply evenly as I get to my feet. I take a few steps over to the cesspool and peer inside. “You had enough film on you to last a fucking year. That’s not nearly enough.”

With a frustrated grunt, Ichabod slams his hands in the water and picks up the bar of soap he had floating in the grime, and starts angrily scrubbing himself again.

Good boy,I think with a grin as I scratch the back of my head and walk out of the bathroom. He’s had his first and only warning about coming out clean.

Then when he does, it’ll be time to show him what he’s been missing.

Not just from me though, from his beloved bitch too.

Because once I spring my little surprise on him and snap the last threads of his hope to fucking pieces, he’ll become the perfect little Stepford boy.

I walk down the hallway snickering, knowing that to make him into exactly what I want, I’m gonna have to do what I have to do. And I’m just fine with that.

EIGHT

Survival

ICHABOD

I watch him leave and hate myself for trembling. Fear shouldn't be something I'm even capable of feeling anymore, not after all the years I've spent with him, but it's still there, and I'm clutching the fucking bar of soap in my hand just like he told me to, scrubbing my skin raw because he demanded it.

Still, I don't know why I'm working so hard to clean myself when I'm sure Lakyn is going to hurt me even more than usual.

There's no guarantee he'll even be satisfied with my efforts, and he's probably already planning on using it as an excuse to make me suffer. I'm sure he plans to make me bleed, because he's always enjoyed that. He wants me to suffer for mourning Bea, for standing up for myself. Even if I try to be a 'good boy' now, he might hit me just for the fun of it—which wouldn't be new... but I know it will be worse today.

I saw the look in his eyes, the empty darkness that lurks behind the pretty blue, and whenever it shows up there's pain on the horizon for someone—and today I'm the only option. It's tempting to sink under the grimy surface of the water and not come back up, but despite all my failings, I've always been a survivor, and I know my goddamn body won't let me inhale water the way I imagine.

For some reason, my body insists on staying alive even when my mind would rather be released.

But this isn't the first time I've thought about death.

Even before I met Lakyn Meyer I used to wonder when my heart would finally give out, but my body has survived more than it should have. Bad drugs, overdoses, hunger, beatings, rough fucks, and more pain and suffering than one person should be capable of experiencing in one lifetime.

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