Page 75 of Miserable Marionette

He looks up, as if he didn’t know I was here by the stomping and slamming. “Morning, puppet.”

“You asshole!” I throw the sleep top I hadn’t realized I’d crossed the road with at his face. Half amused when he lets it hit him.

“I told you, Audrey,” he starts, gathering it off his face. “There’s no reason for you to attend the wedding. Everything is—"

“It’s my job. Mrs. Johnson can’t handle an entire wedding party herself!”

The teasing note in his voice abruptly cuts off as he adjusts his glasses. “I don’t want you to go.”

I huff, putting my hands on my hips. Gideon has always been… Gideon. But lately, geez, it’s been worse than ever. Not that it doesn’t elate me to some degree, but I draw the line at him making me miss work to keep me home. “You’re coming too.”

“Not at first.”

“Ugh, Gideon, you can’t just—"

The high-backed brown leather chair rolls back as he stands, making me clamp my mouth shut. The deep frown on his face oddly expressive. “You don’t need to go anywhere, Audrey.” I watch as he nervously jerks at his suit jacket, shifting before seeming to decide on his next move. It’s… unsettling. He all but whines as he reaches me, tugging me to his chest. “I can’t stand the thought of you without me. I need—"

“Don’t,” I warn him, jabbing his chest, my voice coming off a little shaky. “Don’t play that shit with me.”

I roll my eyes as his face goes back to its naturally blank state without the jarring, forced emotion. “It was worth a shot.”

The scary part is how real it looked.

Are you scared of me, Audrey? And the sound of creaking rope makes goosebumps break out over my skin.

“You’re insane,” I quip, burying my face to cover my discomfort.

“My words were true though. You should tell—"

“I’m going, Gideon.” I lift up, pressing a kiss to his cheek with a wink. “I’ll see you later, okay? Then you can have me all to yourself. But no more of this, ever. This wedding is important to me.”

His jaw clenches, but he presses a kiss to my lips in warning. “Be good, Audrey. I’ll see you later.”

I nod, taking my shirt back from his desk before I fully pull from his arms. Only halfway to the door when his voice finds me again, making me freeze. “I love you.”

For a second, I just stare. It’s not that I don’t know that; it’s just… we don’t say it. Or at least Gideon doesn’t. Doesn’t see what he feels as love, despite that obviously being what it is. I stopped trying to decipher many weird things about him ages ago. The smile that spreads on my face is so big it makes my cheeks ache. “I love you too.” I know when he said it, it was for my benefit only; that doesn’t make me love it any less.

“You’ll be back at what time?” is his only response as he settles back at the desk. It does nothing to deter the flutterflies in my stomach or my smile.

“Three. It’ll give me time to get dressed and grab my wedding date.”

He stares at me for a moment before sighing, his fists clenching and unclenching. It’s that, not the performative emotion he uses on everyone else, that makes my heart lurch. He’s bothered.

Truly bothered for me to be separated from him. More as the days go by, I notice him getting… needier. More demanding, more… desperate, and I hate to admit I love it. It’s intense, sure, but flattering as all hell. I’m across the room and wrapping my arms around him before he can respond. “I’m all yours, Gideon Bell,” I remind him, giving him another kiss before jogging back out the front door.

Gideon, Present Day, 1994

My breath fogs up the glass, making my brows furrow as I shift, allowing only a few more inches between me and the window. I don’t need to check the clock again; it hasn’t changed in the past few seconds. I do anyway, the long hand taunting me, 3:32. My pulse ticks up and before I decide to, I’m back to pacing.

You’re late, puppet.

Scenarios flick through my head like a horror movie. Audrey at the wedding; it hasn’t started yet, but the wedding party is there. One of the groomsmen has something to say. Nothing worse than a talkative corpse. They’ve been pre-gaming, as you do for all important moments in your life, a little alcohol to take the nerves away. A little to forget you were unfaithful to your girlfriend at the bachelor party because that’s just what guys fucking do. You felt bad, but you didn’t learn anything because here you are talking to a pretty blonde. She’s sweet, polite, a people pleaser. She has a soft smile, and you have no idea you’re sealing your fate. That you’ll die in a cheap tux because that pretty little blonde belongs to someone else.

She belongs to me.

There will be no slaps on the back, no boys will be boys or bro code, just you and a scalpel as I cut you, anus to the shriveled sack of shit you call a brain.

Ripping myself from the windows, I stalk toward the office, reaching into the desk. There, at the very bottom, pushed far back and rusted from years of not being handled, but I remember. I polished and ran the action through, loaded, cleaned, and re-familiarized myself with the closest thing I’ve ever had to a friend aside from my sweet Audrey months ago. When Mom and Dad were asleep, I would dig the revolver from his desk. I was surprised when I came back to find Jackson had kept it in the same place. The weight of it comforting in my hand, the fact that I had no plan to use it, but I could. I could bring it to my chin and the buzzing would stop; Mom might even feel relief for the first time since I was born. Not that I cared about that either way; it simply became a part of my routine. Spinning the wheel, putting it to my chin, fingering the trigger and just waiting to see if I’d get the wild impulse to apply pressure to it. I never did because who would take care of Audrey?