The Tyrant's Trophy

Chad

Basil had given me a spare key to his apartment since neither he nor his fiancee would be home early. He had a pretty huge bruise when he stopped by my apartment; I could see traces of the knuckles that had blessed him with the shinner. I didn’t really care who hit him - The man got on my nerves to no end by always patting or holding Maybell’s hand.

If the other person hadn’t hit him, I would have, so yeah, I didn’t feel any remorse for the eccentric CEO.

The meeting dragged longer than I would’ve liked - or so it felt long. In the end, I got into it with my boss. My face flushed, remembering my confession of love for Maybell! I couldn’t believe I kept a poker face when I yelled that in the meeting - in front of my sister and Ms. Igoir...the two ladies are going to kick my butt, I know it.

Setting that to the side, for now, I walked into the odd couple’s apartment. My colleagues were spaced around the room, standing at attention and looking out the windows for any sign of disturbance. There were doing their job, but I’m sure Maybell found them intimidating. “Where’s Maybell?” I asked, already guessing the answer.

“She locked herself in the room.” Bart, my least favorite acquaintance replied first. “She’s been in there since you left to speak with the boss. By the way, is she single, because she’s really ho-”

‘She’s mine.’ “Need I remind you of the boss’ policies.” Hostility dripped with each word. Putting my hand on Bart’s shoulder, I squeezed until he winced. “We wouldn’t to be sent back to the wolves’ den, would we?” So what if I sound hypocritical; there’s no way I am letting Bart near Maybell. Signaling them to leave, I thanked them. “Thank you men for keeping an eye on her, but now you’re dismissed.”

Without another word, my peers left. ‘Finally.’ Stopping at the door to Maybell’s room, I knocked. “Maybell, I’m back.”

She didn’t answer but I heard a gasp and a slight splashing of water. ‘So she was bathing.’ I had to shake my mind out of the gutter with that one. “Take your time. I’ll be making some coffee.”

Maybell came out thirty minutes later: she wore light blue jeans with an overly baggy shirt, which she tucked in. Her hair was nappy, her usual curls knitted tightly with each other, yet some droplets of water still dripped from them.

“How was the meeting?” She asked, accepting the cup of coffee I made for her. Trepidation filled those maple eyes I’ve come to love so and it hurt me knowing what she was going to ask. “Did you guys find out about my baby?”

She had asked Adam that question. He gave me the approval to say but...I just couldn’t. Yes, I know what happened: Phil had used a concoction of his own making to abort the child. If that wasn’t sick enough, the man’s formula preserved his own daughter’s organs which he took and gave to patients on his donor lists: high-paying parents whose newborns needed healthy parts.

I came to find this out while going through the man’s file I saved on the computer. Maybell deserves to know but she’s so frail - so sweet - there’s no telling how she’ll handle the truth. It could drive her to the grave. I don’t want to lose her.

“We’re still looking into that.” My conscious stabbed me for lying but what else can I do?

“Oh, ok.” God, I want to just hold her. The hope in her eyes deflated and I felt this sense to just bring her to myself and stop the slight trembles in her body. She wanted to cry but she held them in. “Thanks anyways...Chad.”

“I’m sorry.” Am I truly doing the right thing here? Eyeing the time on the stove, it was one in the afternoon. “Hey, want to do something today?” I could tell she didn’t. She wants her hole herself up, but I don’t want her to be alone. I want to bring back her smile. “There’s a festival going on today - on Randolph street. Let’s get some fresh air.”

She hesitated before giving me a tiny nod. “You’re right.” Shakily, she smiled at me. “Fresh air sounds nice. I need fresh air.” She touched her hair, seeing it was still damp, and said, “Let me fix my hair first.”

“While you do that, I’ll head next door and change.”

We made it to the festival by three. As normal for summer festivals, the place was packed. Maybell pinned her hair up into a bun. It was nice to see her hair be so natural: to see just how curly it really was when she didn’t straighten it to death. She looked like her own person - not the woman Phil wanted her to be.

But one thing still bothered me: her shirt. She’s skinnier than I would like (that’s due to her anorexia) but that shirt was obviously not made for women. As we walked past the vendors, my eyes kept eyeing that darn shirt. It was turquoise with pink flowers printed on it. I’ve seen those shirts in the men’s section at stores. Which is why it annoyed me to see it on Maybell.

Because that’s not her shirt.

Which means it is Basil’s shirt.

Blasted Basil.

When he’s not third wheeling, the man still finds ways to make me jealous. They’ve grown close too. Always watching movies together and Basil got to hold her hand - he did it often - either taking her small hands in his and pulling her anywhere he wanted. There were even times, I found the man cupping Maybell’s face in his hands, and she didn’t protest.

That’s why I hate Basil; he had a woman, yet he continues putting his hands on someone I CARE about and Maybell permits it.

She never snatched her hand from his or told him to stop. It makes me feel jealous and jealousy is something, I’m not used to. In my past relationships, I had never been the jealous one, so I’m not exactly sure how to respond to this except to do the same as that Basil!

While we strolled and Maybell eyed around in wonder - that’s cute - I decided to go for it. Holding my breath, I took her hand in mine. It was ridiculously soft and tiny! Like cool velvet sheets intertwining my fingers. I could hold her hand forever.

Unfortunately, my love’s reaction to my action was instant.

She flinched, clearly afraid of the touch.

“Chad?” She didn’t pull away but her face told me I crossed a clear boundary. Even still, I couldn’t help but think she looked cute with that kind of expression.

“Sorry,” It wound me that she reacts to my touch like that and not that creep, Basil. Feeling upset with my darn emotions, I did something I had never dreamt of doing in my ENTIRE life. I pouted. “Why do you let Basil hold your hand?” I grumbled, low, not wanting her to hear the hurt, but she heard it.

Raising her eyebrows, Maybell repeated my question, “Why do I let Basil hold my hand?” My face was heated by how childish I sounded. Now I’ve done it. Glancing at our intertwined hands, a blush powdered her cheeks; she stuttered, “Holding his hands reminds me of my mother...and old friends I used to have from high school. It’s way different than holding hands with y-you.” Peeking around, afraid that Basil would catch wind of her answer, she whispered. “He’s a bit feminine so it doesn’t really feel awkward when he holds my hand.”

So...she doesn’t see Basil as a guy.

I haven’t laughed so hard in my entire life.

I had the strongest urge to walk into the guy’s office and laugh in his face at this revelation.

People eyed us as if I was insane but I couldn’t stop laughing. Maybell’s uneasy expression turned into a smile of her own and she began chuckling with me. It wasn’t loud but boy did it sound like a chorus of angels. Her smile lit up the place - as if she was a lantern. She insisted I keep her thoughts about Basil a secret but my mind was too wrapped up in how she looked right now.

She was glowing and her eyes went a shade lighter - as if they wanted to glow themselves as well. At that moment I wanted to capture a picture of this and carry it close with me. Truly, I was in love with this woman.

One day, she will be my wife.

If only that day would rush here.

“Sorry again.” I apologized. “Is it ok if I hold your hand?” Man, I could see my friends laughing at themselves blue. I sounded as if this were a shoujo manga.

I held my breath, waiting for Maybell’s reply. Just when it felt like I would pass out from the lack of oxygen, she consented. After, I allowed myself to relax and truly enjoy the day. I showed Maybell all the vendors and the live bands the festival offered. I even learned that she spoke Spanish and despite her pleadings not to, I brought her gifts. One gift I brought her was a bracelet with silver wolves facing towards the center where two half moons lined with lapiz gems snapped together to lock it in place. The wolves appeared to be howling at the moons.

“You really shouldn’t spend on me.” Maybell protested.

“I wanted to.” Lifting her wrist, I locked the bracelet in place. “Besides, this suits you.” Blue and silver go together, just as I thought. I smiled to myself.

Finished looking around, but not wanting to go return to our stuffy homes, we walked around some more. Funnily enough, we had nothing to say to one another but the silence wasn’t awkward as it was when we first met. The silence became comfortable; something to enjoy within our company. With her hand in mine, words seemed unnecessary.

“Don’t you hear that?” Maybell stopped in her tracks.

I frowned, trying to catch what sound Maybell was talking about. We were ants in this crowd so there was noise everywhere we turned. Music from street musicians and laughs resounded from groups of friends, as well as angry car horns being blown by drivers.

What was I supposed to hear?

Maybell’s head tilted slightly, tuning into whatever assaulted her ears. She looked cute, concentrating, but then it shifted to one of shock. Without warning, she let go of my hand and dashed away.

“Maybell?!” For a dainty lady, she ran fast, and soon I lost her in the crowd. Panicked, I continued down the path I last saw her and called out her name. What did she hear that made her run off?

Eventually, the crowds became sparse the farther away from the festival I got. “Maybell?” From the corner of an alley, some child ran out and into me. He was bawling his eyes out. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“T-the man’s g-gonna hurt her.” My stomach dropped. “She s-stopped t-t m-man from t-taking me.” Eyeing back at the crowd, I spotted a police officer casually strolling through the festival with a bike by his side.

“Go to that cop, kid,” I instructed the boy, pointing to the officer. “Let him know what happened and tell him to get an ambulance.” Sending him away, I ran to the alley.

Before rounding the corner, I grabbed my gun from my ankle holder. If the man touches even one hair on Maybell’s head, I’ll kill him. I’ll have no problem getting away with it - perks of working for Adam Carter.

I didn’t expect to walk in on a horrifying sight.

There was blood. Each brick wall was stained with it and some trailed to the end of the alley. There was a sickening crack and a grunt resonating from behind the dumpsters. Charging behind, I aimed my gun, only to falter at the sight.

The man was on the floor, gagging. Maybell sat on top of him but it wasn’t her. Her eyes were clouded over - dull - and her hair moved on its own. Her hair was wrapped around the man’s neck, constricting his breathing, and each time he tried removing the hair, it lifted the man’s head and slammed it on the hard concrete.

“Maybell,” I called out but she didn’t move. Her eyes remained glued to the man beneath her. Putting away my gun, I slowly approached her, and laid my hand on her shoulder. She flinched and then charged at me, pushing me to the ground as well. Her strength was overwhelming and I could feel hair wrap around my neck, slowly constricting my airways. “Maybell!” I forced myself to go still, hoping she would see I wasn’t a threat.

Her hands lifted me to her face and just when I believed she was going to thrash me to the ground, she paused. Taking a giant whiff of me, I guess it brought something back to her. Maybell’s eyes focused and light returned to them. “Chad?” Horror replaced confusion as her eyes roamed the scene. The shock of it made her faint, just as the ambulance finally made it.