The Bone Cutter

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five  

Inanis went right back to being his cruel, spoiled, asshole self from when we first met. He no longer showed interest in me, other than to spew the usual insult here or there, and then smile arrogantly, and leave.

Asshole.  

He decided to leave to the stadium hours before I did. He and I both knew that we had to arrive together with the media and cameras that would be surrounding the place, but he still left anyway.

Fine. If he wanted to be away from me that badly, I didn't care.

At least, that is what I kept telling myself.

I still felt haunted by what happened last night. By our conversation. Our fight. I was angry at him, but also, a little part of me hurt for him.

I want to understand him, to know what goes on in his head. After him taking me to his father's grave, I realized just how separate Inanis the ADHD child was from The Bone Cutter, the country's very own psychopathic idol.

I want to get to know Inanis. I want to see the child.

And yet, I also want him to stay the Bone Cutter, because then it's easy to hate him. It's easy to be unforgiving when he slices someone on national television.

I got out of the car, and walked into the stadium with my own personal body guards. There was a multitude of reporters, all yelling at me, snapping photos, asking questions.

At this moment, I was overwhelmed. I thought about Inanis, how he could easily glide through the stressful crowds, it never seemed to bother him.

I wished he was here to help me glide.

I shook my head, scowling at myself. I don't need him. I never have.

I stood up straight, trying not to wince at the many flashes of lights from the cameras, and walked into the stadium.

When the doors of the building shut, and the reporters were left outside, I took a stabilizing breath.

I hated how hard I made that.

A woman came up to me, a perceptibly fake smile plastered on her face, "Follow me, Ma'am" She said in a higher pitched voice which sounded a bit abnormal, "We have your dressing room ready, and your outfit done."

I nodded and followed her, not really sure what else to do.

She led me to a large dressing room, mirrors, and racks of different outfits compacted into the space.

And then they brought in the Harvester's dress. And I choked back a scream of protest.

There were many different women in the room with me, two of them held up the dress, a few others were by the makeup and hair station, ready to do cosmetics once I put my dress on.

I wanted to run.

Instead I reluctantly pulled off my outfit, and climbed into the suffocating, old fashioned, Harvester's gown. They helped button the back, and one of the girls put the belt of bone around my waist.

This was nothing. I'm fine.

When my outfit was ready, I sat in front of one of the mirrors as they began to curl my hair and put heavy makeup on my face.

I thought about what Inanis was doing right now. Most likely putting on only the best of his attire. Looking as dashing and dramatically ridiculous as he always did.

"You look absolutely gorgeous." One of the girls complimented, and I think she actually meant it.

I would agree, if it weren't for the fact that the dress was coated in a petrifying history. One I couldn't ignore.