Love You To Death: Chapter 10

Love You To Death
Chapter Ten
Crossing Stainless Swords



The room cleared a little after Virgil left, or at least felt like it had. The room fell silent besides the rain.
“What was in the envelope?” Anna asked, finally breaking the quiet.
“Something trivial.” Lucifer said a little too forcefully. Helen and Phoenix silently agreed to leave and did so. “I’m going to go for a walk,” Michelangelo stated to no one.
“Wait!” the room turned to Anna as she spoke without thought. Sabrina smiled a little but Orlando looked confused.
She looked at her feet. “Um…I wanted to talk to you.”
He nodded and they went upstairs.


He stood by the door as she sat, as if he wanted to leave. Anna looked at him expectantly and he sat down on the back of the armchair.
“What do you want?” He asked without looking at her.
“Why, why didn’t we tell Virgil?”
“Why don’t you guess?”
“Why don’t you trust him?”
“Why do you think I should?”
“Why do you keep answering questions with questions?”
Michelangelo laughed forlornly as she continued, “It’s really very rude.”
“I’m sorry.” He said quietly.
The two of the were silent for a moment.
“You know what?” He said, turning away from her.
“What?”
“I’m not sorry.”
She looked at him with growing dismay. “I’ve been breaking my back all day trying not to upset you,” he was livid now; “You don’t even care do you? Have I not treated you properly? Have I not been sympathetic? Well that is NOT me! I had a life before you!”
She leapt up in her resolute innocence. “Why the hell are you blaming me?! I didn’t ask you to do this! I didn’t even know you before this morning!”
She had brought herself level with his face to shout at him better. He looked at her for a moment before speaking again.
“I didn’t know you either. I didn’t know you were like this.”
He brought his lips towards hers, still whispering, “If I’d known…”
She inhaled his breath sharply, and he reacted by jumping from the back of the chair and striding to the door. “I’m going for that walk.”
“What? It’s the middle of the night!”
“What do you care, Anna?” He spat bitterly. “You’re just my wife.”
He slammed the door shut and the noise resonated through the floorboards. She sank back onto the sofa.
She wept until the fire went out, and then fell asleep on the sofa at about four in the morning.


Anna woke at noon, not where she had fallen asleep. She was in the bed where she had woken yesterday as Michelangelo’s wife, but she was still fully dressed in her jeans and t-shirt. She stood and wandered across the room, going to the bathroom and brushing her teeth. She then showered away the streaked mascara that clung to her cheeks from last night, trying to make herself feel and look normal. He was right, she shouldn’t care.
Yet she was beginning to feel that maybe she did. And no matter how she scrubbed at her face and body, she still felt detached. The dissonant sound of the shower didn’t block, but anaesthetized her thoughts. Making them hurt a little less. She climbed out after an hour, wrapping a towel around her damp skin. She went back to “her” room and dressed in a loose floral top over jeans. Straightening out the bed sheets, a note fell loose of their folds.

I’m sorry.
Sleep well,
I love you.

She sat, crumpling the sheets again, reading and re-reading the seven words.
They gave her a sense of relief.
And it disgusted her.