Ivy Bathory

[27]: Do you still hear them?

"They say 'like mother, like daughter'...
But I must say, 'I'm more like my daddy..."

* ** *** *** ***

Ivy's POV

Those hours moved as slow as my brain did when Kent gave me a math test.

Agonizing, excruciating, five hours. I wouldn't have survived waiting if it wasn't for the conversation Claude kept up. He occasionally managed to bring out unnecessary topics to talk about, usually mild things that'd have us bicker for a while and forget about the days events. I'd be so engrossed in trying my best to correct him about something that I'd only remember the night's dinner when nearly fifteen minutes had gone by.

Maybe he did it on purpose to keep my mind off everything, or maybe he was just providing himself entertainment, nevertheless, the arguments managed to occupy most of our time by half. The rest of the moment he spent loading a couple of back up guns he'd 'accidentally' brought along with him, or going through what he had to watch out for when Laura finally arrived.

I didn't stop him. Claude is a stubborn playful person who never took things quite seriously. But when he did, I knew well to keep my guard up as well. He trusted his gut more than he did condoms. And his gut was always right.

I'd seen that for myself. He was the closet thing bad guys had to a Jesus of their own. I wasn't sure if he used magic or some sort of witchcraft.

So with how he struggled putting and hiding guns and blades all over the house, I knew well that something wouldn't really be right. I didn't ask though because he'd obviously begin rambling about his suspicion and something along those lines. So I kept sitting on the couch, watching him strap another weapon below the coffee table.

Another cartoon he was half aware of played on the screen, entertaining him most of the time. I hardly managed to recognize it as Dora the Explorer.

"Swiper no swiping. Swiper no swiping--"

"You know."I started. "You're kinda like that fox." I nod towards the TV, just as the animation steals what it wants anyway, ignoring the warnings.

Claude raises his head, eyes darting to the screen. "I'm not." He cringes. "I don't wear a blue eye mask. I wear a black bandana mask. And if I was in that cartoon, I'd definitely fuck Dora's mom."

I scowl. "Gross."

He winks. "Don't worry. I wouldn't pick her over your hot aunt. She is--" he gives a flirty whistle. "We should have a family threesome sometime. I know for sure my dad wouldn't pass up the opportunity to have a go at Mary--"

I roll my eyes as he goes into another one of his wild sexual fantasies, wiggling his brows and raising his eyes in seductive suggestion all the while. I continue playing with my hair. "I'd gladly join you but I'm not an incest fan."

He stands up, finally finished with his work. He comfortably takes a seat beside me, putting my legs over his thighs. "How about just you, me and my dad?"

"Only when I'm dead."

"Damn. That's a bummer." He yawns, stretching his limbs. "Guess I'll have to wait for your boy toy to join in on the fun. I can't wait to meet that kid."

I yawn as well, suddenly tired. My head falls on his shoulder as I remember the other day in the library. The way he'd been so insecure about himself, fidgeting and all flustered. How he'd blushed so hard when I told him he wasn't much of a good boy.  The way his grip on my waist had tightened deathly when he came. Or the wild excited gleam in his eyes after everything was done and when we were back to studying.