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Chapter Eleven
Teddy
I frown as I look in the cupboard before going back to the fridge, as though opening it again will elicit different results.
Fucking nothing!
Grumbling, I make my way upstairs, my pink robe trailing up the stairs behind me. Jane’s door is closed, but I know she’s always awake at dawn. As I approach, I hear her voice through the door and wait, wondering why the fuck she has someone in her room. I didn’t check on Branson this morning, but I figured he’d still be cleaning up whatever shit from last night.
I knock, hard, and step back with crossed arms. Jane’s voice stops and she opens the door. I frown as I take in her appearance. She’s wearing some kind of nightgown, but it’s crumpled and there’s a stain on the front of it. Instead of her usual neat and tiny hair bun, frizzy bits stick out all over the place and there are bags under her eyes.
“Good morning,” I say with a note of hesitation in my voice, abandoning my plan to ream her out about food.
“What?” she snaps, and I turn my head, looking at her quizzically.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” I ask in a low voice and her face softens slightly. She is a psycho, controlling bitch, but I know she cares in her own strange way. After the revelations I had last week, I understand so much better why she is who she is.
“Of course,” she replies, “Now, I’m busy though. I’ll see you tonight.”
She clicks the door behind her, and I stand there a moment looking at it before making my way back downstairs. By the time I get back to the kitchen, I hear the sound of the metal garbage shoot being closed and know that means Branson is done. I move to the basement door and ring the bell at the top, stepping back with a smirk on my face.
It was such a good idea to do that. I learned it from a dog show and figured it’d be a nice demoralizing touch to have him beckoned by a bell. It only takes a minute before he appears at the top of the stairs and I crinkle my nose at him.
“Ew! You smell,” I tell him, pinching my nose. He looks at me blandly, waiting. I roll my eyes at him.
“Fuck, you’re dull. Go rinse off, you need to make my breakfast.”
He blinks at me.
I narrow my eyes at him while reaching into my pocket until I pull out the small button for his collar. His eyes land on the control and I see him tense slightly. I feel myself smile.
“Any questions?” I mock and feel a small thrill at watching his jaw clench. Blood splatter covers his chest, but there’s only one drop on his cheek and I can’t help but think about how much I want to lick it off him.
I see a flash of something in his eyes before he nods shortly, moving jerkily toward the bathroom. After a few steps, I press the button and he seizes briefly at the shock but stays upright. He doesn’t turn and look at me, just keeps walking.
I roll my eyes again.
Fucking boring.
I need to up my game, otherwise being here is going to get way too dull, way too fast. Jane took a new victim, so I know I’m screwed for at least another week. There’s always the forest, but the peaceful solace I go there for isn’t what I’m craving these days.
While I wait for Branson to clean up, I head up to my room and grab a notebook and pen, placing myself at the kitchen table. With a smile, I write my heading and start making notes until he comes back a few minutes later, his chest and face now clean.
“I think you looked better with the blood,” I tell him with a wink. “Look!” I show him my paper, the words ‘Branson Torture List’ at the top. He frowns and looks at me.
“Things are getting boring, I thought I might come up with some fun stuff for us to do!”
I watch his face as he scans down the first few items on the list before straightening and looking into my face. His expression is a mask, but I see the hurt behind his eyes. I ignore the smallest knot in my belly.
“Why?” he asks, and I grin, standing and bringing my face as close as I can to him without him leaning down.
“Because I can.”
His jaw tenses as he looks down on me, and I see a pleasing morsel of hurt in his eyes.
“Pancakes,” I tell him with a wink before turning back to my paper. He stands there for only a second before moving over to the cupboard to pull out ingredients.
As he pours the last of the mix into the pan, a glob falls to the side, landing on the floor. I look at the stray drop and get an idea, standing and pointing down at it.
“You made a mess,” I say. He goes to grab the cloth off the counter, but I wag a finger at him.
“Lick it up.” I demand. He narrows his eyes at me but doesn’t move. With my hand in my pocket, I hold down the trigger button and watch as he falls to the ground convulsing.
I laugh as he continues to squirm before I finally let go. He lets out a groan, rolling to his side only inches from the floor-dough. Kneeling down beside him, I trail a hand down the side of his face and smile.
“Lick it,” I say again softly. His body trembles slightly but he inches forward until his face is only just above the mess. I bite my lip as he sticks his tongue out, shuddering as he licks it clean before dropping his head back to the ground beside me.
Above us, smoke begins to rise off the pan and I stand smiling, wiping invisible dust from my knees before grabbing a plate of unburnt pancakes.
“Don’t forget to clean up the rest,” I tell him with a wink before skipping to the dining room in significantly better spirits.
