The Dyers Are Deadly

3

Chiko coughs up more blood into the half-full pail.

He lies back down on her mattress lifelessly.

"Sir," David says, still standing beside his deathbed, "allow me to call—"

"Say her name and I'll fire you," Chiko croaks out. "You won't find another job with as good a pay as this, David."

He hears the old man's grunt of frustration. "You won't be here to fire me if we don't call her," he snaps.

Chiko looks at him, squinting.

David clears his throat and adds, as an afterthought, "Sir."

"Myc will be...lady of the...manor. Myc...a lady. It makes me laugh but...she'll fire you," Chiko strains to say, coughing in between his words, and his fingers go to his chest—as if touching his own skin would take away the pain.

But he can't even feel his own fingers.

Chiko woke up a week ago and found the bed and her room empty.

He sat on the bed for hours, staring at his hand, thinking that she did the right thing for herself. It was about time she got to her senses.

Even...even so. His chest felt hollow, his bones felt weak. Chiko's nose bled first. And then his mouth. And then he lost feeling in his fingers and toes and skin, like a wisp of air only passes through his cheeks when he touches his face.

His sister has been angry with him. Ricci, too, even David and their housekeeper, Helga. Chiko ordered them to never call or go to Isolde.

As the lord of the manor, they have no choice but to oblige. That's how the Dyer family works.

Because he knows she'd come. That fucking angel would come if she knew he was dying without her touch.

Once Dyers found their person, they needed physical daily contact to keep their blood pumping, their hearts beating, their bones moving. It's pointless to live otherwise.

Everything the person feels when they touch the Dyer, the Dyer feels a hundred times.

Everything Isolde feels when she touches him, Chiko feels a thousand times.

He was fine before he found her. Alone and lonely, isolated, never knowing the feeling of touch and warmth and skin...but fine.

He's not now. He needs her now.

Chiko sits up again and coughs up more blood into the pail. "David," he rasps. "When I'm gone. You know what you have to do."

His butler looks at him. "You want me to kill Miss Myc."

"My previous attempt at burning the house down didn't work, so yes, after she fires you. You...can't kill...your lady of the manor." Chiko smiles, his teeth covered in blood. "That's the only way...for the Dyer line t-to fucking end."

David sighs and takes the pail. "I'll have another—"

The door to his room slams open and his sister barges in, crying. "Chiko, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me."

"What the fuck did you do." His voice is calm but seething.

Myc takes a deep breath but doesn't answer.

Chiko sees Isolde walk up behind his sister with Ricci.

"What the fuck did you do!" Chiko screams, voice hoarse and throat scratchy, and then he's getting up from bed because fuck, fuck, fuck, he needs—he needs her now—now, now, fucking now—