INIQUITOUS

CHAPTER LIII

CHAPTER LIII

The weather was blustery and gusty, uncontrollable and raging long into the morning. Weak beams of sunlight attempted to push through greyed and bruised blue clouds with little success. The air was chilly, great for blazing fireplaces, warm cocoa and limbs tangling together in an attempt to be close and cuddle. Inside the apartment on the eleventh floor, animosity and tension ripened and grew old the longer Frank and I avoided pleasant conversation. Instead we directed cross glares at the walls. The atmosphere was suffocating, sort of like Frank's hand last night. I had woken up to a throat that was a sight for sore eyes; discoloured and different shades of purple. When it came to explanations, I was screwed. I dreaded the stares and demanding prods and pokes I would endure when I eventually would come face to face with Uncle Hektor and Eton – which was why I lingered for an insufferable breakfast after Frank Rider offered a cup of coffee and a slab of butter on toast. 

The kitchen tap hadn't been tightened all the way, a steady and languid drip hit the basin. The analogue clock with the round white face ticked quietly, seemingly loud in the grave silence. I picked up my coffee cup, held it to my mouth, blew the hot liquid, took a gulp, and set it down. Frank's eyes flickered briefly to me, away and back to the pancakes he had barely touched. He didn't have much of an appetite and I was curious as to what was eating away at him. I wished I could unscrew his head, sift through his mushy brain with invasive fingers and discover what thoughts occupied his attention.

I reached for the bread knife and his brows furrowed slightly, an almost unnoticeable action had I not been discreetly observant of his every move and every twitch of his expression. I fought a smile as I unscrewed the lid to the jam jar and slathered the red spread on a piece of toast. I took a bite and chewed for the longest time until he shot me an irritated look and I swallowed loudly. I set the toast down onto the plate, it was cold and the crust was hard and I didn't really want to eat. My show had been for Frank, an attempt to get under his skin and break his resolve. I wanted him to snap, to lash out but so far, he had remained in control and it irked me greatly. What happened to the bastard from last night who had been so eager to crush my throat? Where had he gone? It was like teasing an animal with a piece of meat, waving it in front of their face and pulling your arm away as soon as they attempted to leap for it. I was disappointed by the man in front of me. How could he get a girl excited and then crush her spirit in a matter of hours?

"What are your plans for today?" he said his first full sentence to me, voice gruff, tone aloof as if he could care less about what I did.

"My plans are to fuck you into the next season,"

He wasn't fazed. "I'm not interested. Go home."

"Maybe I'll go to a friend's," I pondered casually, hands around the warm mug, wandering gaze falling on the painting of the tornado. "He's my dealer and a superb conversationalist. Not to mention, he's cute and a great fuck buddy. I'm certain you've met him before. Irvin Tehrani. He takes English, Psychology and Criminology, I believe."

His expression darkened, cold green eyes flashed over to me and he rumbled. "I hope you're not seeing other men, Calla. I've told you the terms of our relationship. I don't make it a habit of repeating myself."

"What we have is casual. This is not a commitment."

"I expect you to behave as if it's a commitment," he retaliated immediately, his rage matched the storm outside. He set his knife and fork down with excess force, no longer in the mood to keep up pretences and pleasantries. "I mean it, Calla. Whore yourself out and I'll–"

"You'll what?" I challenged daringly, gleeful.

"I'll expose you to the entire student body," he revealed the ace under his sleeve, darkly amused by my sudden silence and stillness. His cruel gaze captured mine and he addressed me. "Go near the boy and I'll ruin this pretty façade you carry. I own your body. If I find out you've open your legs to other men, I'll make you wish you were dead."

My chair was pushed back. I brushed my hands slowly for crumbs and smiled tightly. "Well," I said, standing upright. "Since breakfast is over, I should fetch my coat and call a taxi. Thanks for the coffee."

"I've changed my mind, you're staying here for the weekend."

"I need to get home."

He got to his feet, standing in front of me, arms crossed. "We'll go back to bed, you can strip and I'll fuck you into the next season," he grabbed my jaw, expression twisted, maddened by my glower. He spat his words. "Isn't that what you wanted, Calla? Why change your mind now? We'll spend the weekend together and I'll treat you like the whore you are." 

"I wonder how you'll die, Frank. I imagine it to be a glorious spectacle that'll unfortunately be closed off to the public. It'll be a pitiful end to a pitiful existence. After death, photographs will be taken of your naked body and plastered on the front pages of every newspaper with headlines telling of the downfall of your ego. It's only a matter of time. Sand is trickling. Soon enough," I held my hand up and curled my fingers into a fist, "poof! And you're gone. So be careful, Frank. I've shown restrain towards you but push me far enough and I'll abandon all care and come for the crown you've placed wrongly on your own head. You are not a King. You're a pauper in a fool's fantasy. In a split second, reality can appear and you'll tumble from the palace and fall at my feet. And I am not a gracious woman, I hold grudges and I refuse to let them go, I will ruin you."

I didn't actually say that. The scene played out in my head to bad endings. I needed to keep the smile and the pretences and the worry for now. It was a tiresome act. I grew old with pretending to be a frightened school girl and I had intended for a baby bump to show before doing anything rash, but with his continuous demands of my body and his entitlement I feared I would be forced to press my foot to the gas pedal and speed the show along. It was a shame. I hoped to carry the devil's spawn before killing Lucifer.

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