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“And the tongue,” I remind him. Maybe if she loses her ability to speak, she won’t be able to haunt me once she’s dead. I should have cut out Michael’s tongue. Maybe then I’d have some peace.
“As if I’d forget. What my lady wants, my lady gets.”
“Hmm, I’ve obviously fallen off the pedestal if I’ve gone from goddess to lady just from one quick fuck.”
“There’s no noun in the world good enough to describe what you are to me, enchantress.” He kisses me. “I want you to deliver the final blow. She should die by your hand, not mine.”
I don’t reply to that, but the idea does hold an appeal. There’s no denying I want to hurt her. Or that I like what Baxter’s been doing.
“Take my blade, here.” He presses a new, unused knife into my hand. “Cut her right here…” He points to an unmarred patch of skin. “And she’ll bleed out slow enough to sing like a canary.”
I don’t hesitate: I do exactly what he says and I fucking enjoy it. I don’t even take my time to savour it, far too eager to just do it. It makes Baxter laugh but he’s delighted by my enthusiasm I think.
He kisses me once more as he takes the knife from me.
“Good girl. You’re phenomenal at that.”
I flush from his praise, kiss him, stifle another yawn, and leave him to it. Sleep calls, and for once it’s peacefully, perfectly dreamless.
Baxter: You have a huge fucking problem.
Amelie: Hello to you too, Batman. Have you heard of time zones where you come from? Some of us do sleep you know.
Baxter: You don’t sleep. You take over the world and fuck your little harem of sycophants.
Amelie: Careful...
Amelie: What is so important that you felt the need to interrupt a damn good fuck for?
Baxter: Was it the teacher? I bet you still call him Sir.
Amelie: Goodnight Baxter. Fuck with me again and I’ll block your goddamn number.
Baxter: Like I said. You have a huge fucking problem so quit sucking dick and call me from a secure line. Immediately.
