I'm the boss

Police Here

Aubrey
//

We stared at each other for a while. Silence hangs in the air, neither of us wanting to give in.

But, I do.
I am weak.
"I'm going to sleep," I get up and turn the bathroom light off, coating the room with darkness. I fumble around to the bed and throw myself down.

I listen to Carter expertly move around the room, getting clothes I suppose. Soon the bed dips and he lets out a grunt.
"You're crazy," I mumble. The stress begins to weigh on me.
"You really killed your father. Why would you do something like that?" Tears began to burn my eyes.

I was in bed with a murder.

"You wouldn't understand." His voice was low and made me shiver.
"You're right. I wouldn't."

He let out a dry laugh and turned over in bed. "I didn't think you'd last this long. I thought for sure you would have ran home to daddy."

"It's not that much better there either."

"Well, than maybe you would understand."
"I would never kill my father though."
"Because you're weak."
"No, because I have a soul. I know how to resolve conflict without violence."
"Yeah, you do it with tears."

I sit up and hit his arm, making him laugh again.
"You're doing it again," he sings out.
"What exactly am I doing?" I question, cuddling into the blankets, clinging to warmth.

"Making me think that we could work."

Nothing is said for the rest of the night and I fall asleep to the thought that we could work. Husband and Wife.
Why can I overlook his crimes?

The next morning was exhausting. It seemed like I got five minutes of sleep, which is probably true.
The cook made french toast and I was tempted to eat, but I stuck to the yogurt and fruit. My father would be proud..

We ate in silence. Occasionally Carter would cast a glance at me, but other than that it was like my presence wasn't there. 

I wondered if he took his medication..

Two pills could stop him from being a psycho. I would hate to see how he acts on the daily without them. 

The door bell rang and a maid rushed to get answer it. Carter stood like he was expecting someone and buttoned his suit jacket. 

"Is someone coming?" I asked, keeping my eye glued to my meal.

"Yes, your father is coming to talk about the company," He pushed in his chair and was ready to leave me in the dark.
"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I assumed that he would've told you."

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Have you two not been talking?"

Before I could respond two police men barged into the kitchen like they lived here. They were both tall and broad, one had his hand on his gun.
"Mr. Host, is it?"

Carter clenched his jaw and spoke out, "'Yes, how may I help you?"

"You are under arrest for the murder of your father, Mr. Host. You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you have no to access to one, you will be provided with one." 

I sat at the table and watch them put my husband in handcuffs. His hair fell in front of his face as he looked up at me.

"Mrs. Host," Carter called out to me, "0983." He sent me a wink as he was lead out of our house and to who knows where.

"0983?"