Chapter Twelve
Branson
Three Weeks Later
My skin feels like it’s crawling as I step into the clinic. The sound of a baby crying from another room makes my heart beat faster, and I think I might be having some type of panic attack. My headache pounds behind my eyes, worse by the day. The doctor who gave me the pills practically forced me to do the tests, but now that I’m back here, I wish I hadn’t. Small lump or not, this place is worse than the fucking workroom.
You can do this, I tell myself.
Trimethylaminuria. Trimox. Trinucleotide.
The familiar mantra soothes me and I take a breath before stepping up to the old blonde lady sitting at the counter.
“Hi, I called earlier….”
“Name?”
“Tim Green,” I tell her, using the name on the fake ID Mia got me. One benefit to staying in such a shitty motel.
“Take a seat, we’ll call you shortly.”
???
“Mia?”
“In the bathroom,” her voice says through the walls and I feel my shoulders drop in relief. I still half expect to find her missing any time we’re apart, but it never happens. Once we killed that scumbag from the motel things changed between us. She still wants to be taken in the bedroom, but our dynamic elsewhere is different. The divide between us is less with every day, and though part of me is sickened to think that it’s killing that keeps us together, I don’t really care. Not anymore.
My life has mostly been fucking miserable, and I never expected to spend many years on this earth. If I can spend a few more with her, reveling in the power of a righteous kill, then I will. It doesn’t matter to her, or not as much, but the thought of slowly ridding the world of pieces of shit like Jane and Bud makes me as close to happy as anything does other than Mia.
Teddy. Mia.
My little fucking doll.
When she steps out into the room, I feel the buzzing, crawling feeling of my skin dissipate. She’s across the room in a second and in my arms, her lips on mine. She tastes minty with that sweetness that is only her underneath.
“Everything okay?” she asks. I resist the urge to swallow hard and instead nod, grabbing the small bag and pulling out the prescription for birth control I managed to get filled.
“Just take one at the same time every day, she said. There’s a little pamphlet.”
Her smile grows as she takes the bag, leaning forward to kiss me again before hopping onto the couch and starting to read the brochure. The knot in my throat grows as I look at her, and the ominous pounding of my head only serves to make it worse. She didn’t notice that there was still more in the small bag and I quickly push it to the side.
I watch as she pushes back a strand of hair, now dark brown. I told her when she dyed it that I loved it and it’s true. The darkness against her fair skin is fucking stunning and I feel myself getting hard just watching her. Funny how even the sight of her can pull thoughts of death and melancholy from my mind.
“I got you something else too,” I tell her, grabbing the last bag from my adventures. She looks up at me, her eyes smiling with the hint of mischief that always seems to hover just below the surface.
Holding out her hands she says, “Gimme, gimme!”
“Excuse me, little brat, that’s hardly how you ask for things,” I say, crawling onto the couch. Her eyes widen and she starts to scramble away, but I grab her ankle, eliciting a shriek as I pull her toward me until she's underneath. My mouth finds her neck quickly, nipping lightly.
“Quiet, little doll, the whole apartment building will hear you.”
She giggles and presses her lips forward.
“Make me.”
???
My hands trail through her tousled hair as we lie in bed, the last light of the day shining through the blinds. Small hands touch my chest and stomach and I sigh contentedly, tugging her a fraction tighter to me. A small, murmured sound of contentment falls from her mouth an instant later.