Teeth

Chapter Seven

There was a calm comfort to the routine. The steady plod of actions calmed the nerves for what was to come. He'd done it before. He'd gone through the routine so many times that he was beginning to forget the names. Most of the time, he even enjoyed it. He knew each of the steps and the order they went in. He didn't need to think about each element, and this time not thinking was preferable.

It could have been left until later. She could have been left until later. She wasn't going anywhere and it would have made not following the new one more plausible if he had to do it at night. He'd considered it, but he couldn't face the idea of leaving her there. Instead, he went about getting ready.

Spencer had returned to his room. William had offered his help to dispose of Cleo but he had turned him away. This was something he wanted to do alone. He didn't want eyes prying for each flinch on his face or for each word that could be misinterpreted. Alone was better.

The door opened at the slightest touch, swinging in and hitting the wall. He stood in the doorway, unflinching at the sight before him. It was just another vampire who'd broken the rules, that was all. He tapped the toe of his boot in a quick rhythm against the bare concrete floor. Just someone who had broken the rules.

He had broken the rules. He'd broken them too many times to count. He'd lied about his connection to Cleo, he'd protected her and he'd disposed of those who would incriminate them. And that was only the start of his disobedience. In his mind, breaking rules was akin to those philosophies about trees falling in forests. Rules were only truly broken if someone caught you and he hadn't been caught, but she had.

Gritting his teeth, August walked into the room and set to work.

The contraption was the first to come out, as always. He unscrewed the latch of each hook and let her mouth free. Her lips, after being stretched for so long, were slack and hung apart like some drooling dog. He hated dogs. Grasping her tongue between his thumb and forefinger, he slid the spike out, pulling against the muscle, and tossed the contraption aside. It would be bleached, disinfected, and returned to the other boxes of odd devices, ready for the next time. 

There was always a next time, even though people knew what would happen. People were always stupid enough to think they wouldn't be caught, that they alone would be given reprieve. Not her. She'd known she would be caught and what would happen. He'd asked her if she wanted to tell him anything before he'd put it on. He'd begged her to explain, or even to beg him not to, just so that he knew she hadn't given up. She'd remained silent, pliable, and had never looked away from his eyes.

Keeping up the appearance of enjoyment had been easier with the boy here. Now, he couldn't look at her. She wasn't the same woman he knew. Her skin was grey, her eyes diluted and lifeless. Her body burned hotter than he had ever known but there was no warmth to her. None of the warmth he had loved.

Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he lifted her away from the floor and untied the rope from around her ankles. Her feet slipped from the knot and hit the floor with a wet slap. August took a breath and didn't cringe. He lay her down on the clean part of the mattress and swept her colourless hair away from her face and neck.

"This was my fault," he murmured, crouching next to her. "I should have acted. We'd been talking about it for so long, and I always wanted one more year. Just one more year to make sure everything was in place. I should have seen that the years were killing you."

Things had to change. They'd been living this way for too long, and in the end it wasn't living at all. Living required change and nothing had changed for them in decades. They had survived, sure, they had enjoyed themselves, but they hadn't lived. He wanted to live and perhaps Cleo had too, but living had been too far a cry from their current existence.