Beggar

Chapter 20: "Remember, darling."

The house was in it's usual pristine routine. My Mom loved every inch of this house, so long as it was clean. The only square space that changed was Dads bookshelf, at least once a week two or three new books were thrown in. I never related to his love of books,  not growing up, but now I think I understood.  The last book I read took my soul out with it, little assholes, those things.

"Thank you, Cindy," Sayter nodded to my Mom while she placed a small teacup across from him. His hand slung lazily over my shoulder so I nuzzled into him, my parents oddly comfortable with the stature.

"Please, call me Mom, Sayter." She said, Sayter smiled kindly at her, and she gave me a look.

Very handsome, this one.
Capsuled in her eyes.

Mom sat in her chair next to Dad across from us. Sayter must of been amused at the family heritage, two dark haired green eyed parents with their dark haired green eyed child, similar face, wholly different tastes. Father loved doctoring, and dabbling in medicine fixtures to help those who suffer, Mother liked to garden and cook and please. They had a child, these kind people, and she likes to drink and fuck and kill the greedy and selfish.

"Honestly," Dad started, "I never would of thought Victoria would bring a man home, with all her activities and such."
He said into his teacup to nobody in particular, his brows nuzzled.

"Oh yes, right, we told her skinning all those men was no right way to find a husband, much less a lover, but we were supportive and now see," Mom looked at me, her hands laid flatly against her lap, "look what you've brought us. A tall, handsome,"

"Rich." Dad intruded, and grunted in pain at something Mother had done at that moment.

Less she went on, "kind man."

Sayter only laughed, and it was different from his low and rough chuckle, he was being soft, pristine like the house. He was manipulating my parents, and I knew because the only person he would never fool was me. I knew him, too well to know all he wanted was to meet my parents. I knew since we got here, he was planning to kill them if I ever escaped.

Ф

"Your room, it's very polished." Sayter ran his fingers over an old dollhouse I kept around from my childhood. It was my idea to show him up here, away from them.

"Asshole," I tore off my coat and threw it on the bed, crossing my arms over my chest,
"Do not threaten my parents against me."

He hummed, ignoring me. Instead he opened a drawer and sifted through my things.
"Interesting how they know about your profession, I had left that part of the letter you sent them about us for a reason and told them differently on how we met but, I see I could of just told them their daughter has a dominant to take care of her, that she's learned her lesson."

"And what lesson is that?"

Again, he ignored me, "Was it your Father that gave you that knife? Is that why you love it so much?"

"Grandma,"

"Grandma," Sayter mused as I rubbed at my temples. "It seems the whole family is in your support, how interesting."

"No, she— it's not like that. She left my Mom all her valuables when she died, but urged that knife onto her the most. She also hated men like you, her husband beat her and she used it to defend herself and ended up killing him, she was executed for it and, well I guess now I have it from my Mother."