Page 64 of Miserable Marionette

“Bell?!” Lemmings yells. “We need to go over the schedule for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

The funeral.

My boyfriend's funeral, that I am not invited to.

“Fuck,” Gideon curses under his breath as he leans back, slipping out of me, but he makes no real move to leave as I snatch his glasses from his face, all but pushing him away. “Be right with you!” he calls out the open door, jerking a clean pair of boxers and slacks on.

I can barely take my eyes off him long enough to snag the cleaning cloth for his glasses off his bedside table. My heart flutters at the ease of it, lying here bare, covered in his sweat, cum, and marks. Gideon is beautiful in a way where it hurts, where someone so cold and unyielding shouldn’t be. I don’t care, though. I don’t care that he might not be a good person, that he doesn’t think or feel the way most people do. Gideon Jason Bell is harsh, violent, and cold. I don’t think he possesses any empathy, save for what he spares for me. Gideon Bell is a weirdo and a freak, and I’ve never cared.

Not a bit.

I watch him button up his dress shirt, hiding the naturally toned expanse of his body. Numbly slipping his glasses back onto his chiseled face when he leans back over me, crawling over the mussed sheets. “Stay?”

I nod, my heart in my throat as his lips meet my forehead before he tears himself away from his naked best friend on his bed.

30

What’s In Gideon Bell’s Suitcase?

Audrey, Present Day, 1994

That night, we stayed at my house. Seemed odd enough having sex above the body of my ex; sleeping there was a bit too much to fathom. Maybe in a way this was my own fucked-up little goodbye to Bryan. For the cheating, the pushing, the hateful comments and constant pressure to stay just as messed up and altered as he was.

It should’ve been awkward, uncomfortable, as Gideon followed me into the shower. It wasn’t. My cheeks flushed as he washed every inch of me, the sounds of his quick breath and groans as I did the same for him. We hadn’t made it out of the shower before he was shoving me against the wall, the steam making it hard to breathe as he took me there too. For Gideon, having been a virgin—a thought that still baffles me—he learns quickly. I’m not surprised; Gideon is good at anything he wants to be. Unwavering focus and attention to detail make for mind-blowing orgasms. I’d nearly fainted when he’d pulled the shower head down, his hand keeping me pinned by the neck as he swapped through the settings, finding the one I liked. He’d kept me trapped there, forcing me to the brink over and over. I was boneless by the time he’d turned me around and thrust into me, my palms braced on old yellowing tile.

It was like slipping on your favorite pair of pajamas. Later, when he tucked me into bed, nestling Krissy in my arms, I didn’t care so much about… literally anything. Just that Gideon was warm at my back, he was home, and I’d perhaps waited my entire life to have him just like this.

That he’d been waiting too.

I stretch out like a warm house cat on his bed, my sketchbook and colored pencils scattered and lost on the sheets. The sound of people filing in and out downstairs, someone playing somber music in the viewing room. It burns, sure, but grief is an ugly beast. It takes without warning or mercy, fading and ebbing, convincing you that hey maybe it’ll be alright. Maybe I’m getting better before it rears its ugly head again. The cut on my lip is ghastly, but Jessica has lost more than her vanity. If my staying away helps them, fine. If placing the blame on the people trying to help her gives her any sense of purpose, there’s not much that can be done for it. So long as Gideon keeps his cool, which I think he will. He stared at the cut a lot, which only added to my self-consciousness. He licked and kissed it even more, which made me forget why I felt anything but beautiful under his musings in the first place.

The temptation to see him in action is nearly too much to bear as I slip off his bed to peek over the balcony. The funeral is fully underway now, the doors closed to the viewing room, Pastor Lemmings reciting scripture just a little too long. When my feet fully lower off the bed, I nearly stumble, my heel catching something. I pitch forward, catching myself before whirling around to see what I tripped on. The corner of…

Oh, his suitcase.

I hook it with my toes, having every intention of shoving it back under, but suddenly I’m pulling it the opposite way, curiosity gnawing at my bones. We spent all evening yesterday talking about my life after he left, the ugly details omitted, although he saw the scars. Kissed and doted on every one and then held me when I cried about it. He’d had little to nothing to offer about his. He worked, slept, and existed.

While not hard to believe, in ten years there had to be more than that. Finding out his dad had passed and that he’d had nobody with him brought a fresh wave of harsh emotions. Mr. Bell was a good man; he deserved better than that. My heart aches as I plant myself on the rug in the middle of the room, flipping the unzipped lid of the suitcase up. My brow furrows, hesitant as I reach in, shifting through the contents, counting as I go. Seventeen VCR tapes, marked only by their numbers. I pick one up, my fingers grazing something underneath it.

A manila envelope.

Anxiety strikes me a little then, for the life of me I’m not really sure why. I believe Gideon when he said there’s been nobody else, not that he owes me that, but the thought still makes me a little sick.

“Go ahead, puppet.”

I flinch, dropping the envelope inside the case before I whirl around, meeting Gideon’s intense blue eyes. He looks so handsome all done up in his suit; it only makes my sputtering worse. “I wasn’t trying to snoop. I tripped on the suitcase and I—"

He smirks. “Look at it.”

“It’s okay, I don’t really want to. It’s not my business really I—"

“Audrey,” he warns.

I ignore him, getting up from the floor. “The funeral isn’t over yet. Why are you up here? Do you need my help?”

His steps toward me are nothing more than calculated stalking, my heart fluttering in my chest as he presses his lips to my forehead. “I wanted to check on you.”