SHOUTOUTS:
Wiseupjanetweiss - you're awesome! You deserve cookies! -hands over by the fistfuls- or maybe puppy chow? Sorry to hold out on you for this chapter… wanted to see if perhaps anyone else was going to wander over…

Chapter Eight

I went off to get clothes from the laundry room. Maxwell stayed in the bedroom. For the rest of the day. I could hear him going through the drawers, the closet, going through Brian's things. He wouldn't come out for dinner even though I had it delivered and called for him, trying to lure him out of my bedroom.

Finally, I got tired of waiting around and watching TV, and went in to yell at him. He was lying in Brian's spot in our bed, curled up with Brian's pillow, wrapped in Brian's sheets, blank eyes staring at the wall. I supposed this was his way of mourning, but I didn't care. I wanted him out. I didn't think he deserved to mourn; it was his fault Brian was dead in the first place.

"Maxwell. Get the hell out of my bed."

He glanced up at me and settled his head back against Brian's pillow. I suppose he knew it had been his because of the smell. It still smelled like Brian, something light and exotic and unidentifiable. I knew because I'd done the same thing before, curled up with his pillow, clinging to whatever little pieces of him there were left. But I hated to see Maxwell doing it. Nobody should have mourned Brian as much as I had.

"Maxwell. Now."

He didn't respond, so I went and pushed him off the bed. He scowled up at me and dragged Brian's pillow off the bed so he could curl up with it on the floor, but there was something about him speaking before that put me a bit too much at ease, made it easier to stand up to him. So that's when I started getting really pissed.

"Get the fuck outt've my bedroom, you fuckin' bitch! Get the hell outt've my life!"

He thrashed his tail about warningly but didn't move, and I, feeling more superior than I should have, went and found the collar in the living room, stormed back into the bedroom, and pulled it around his throat, cursing at him the whole time. He didn't fight me, though, until I jerked him up and started dragging him out by the collar. Then he started up gagging again, twisting around. He scratched up my legs pretty badly, bit whenever he could get close, but I wasn't in a mood to respond. I just jerked the collar so it was tighter and continued to drag-fight him up the stairs.

He got free, by opening up his wings suddenly and shoving me into the wall with them, forcing my hand off the collar. Then he fell limp and slid down a few stairs before hooking his claws into the wood, stopping himself, watching me warily and panting even though there was a good amount of space between his neck and the collar in most places.

"That's it. I'm going to fuckin' kill you!"

-Then why don't you do it!- he screamed back inside my head, furious and sounding horribly like Brian when he had been upset. He sat up, letting go of the stair, and started tearing furiously at the collar, wings fanned out, filling the narrow stairwell, perhaps to trap me, or maybe just for balance. His claws, though, kept slipping on the tiny metal pieces of the buckle, and he only grew more and more infuriated. I just sat back and watched his futile attempts.

"For a demon, you're pretty pathetic."

Wrong thing to say. Like I said, I'd started getting up on a high horse, and I sure as hell can't ride. Within an instant, I was knocked off my feet, dazed for a moment as my head had hit a step, then the pain of my cut-open back scraping down the edges of the hardwood steps as I fell down the rest brought me back a moment. I landed at the base of the stairs and blacked out a minute or two, waking up only to find Maxwell straddling me, claws pressed tightly to my throat and a sneer on his face. I suspected I was already bleeding. I feared I was two seconds from dead.

"Maxwell-" I gasped, but was cut off by sharper points of pain in my throat as he forced his claws further into my skin.

-Shut up.-

I did as I was told.

-Take the collar off.-

I reached up, noticed my hands were shaking, and undid the collar around his neck, avoiding the glare of his black eyes, with him warning me to never put it on again. I could already see the faint burn-marks from the garnet.

-I want to kill you.- he was whispering.-I want to kill you so bad…-

I wondered why he didn't.

-You stole him from me.- he accused.

"No. He killed himself because of you."

-You're lying!-

"Ha. I wish… told me so in a letter. He couldn't deal with you…"

He got off me with a sudden look of pain, and crouched there a moment, stunned. Then he made this tortured cry sort of sound, slashing and splintering the doorframe before collapsing against the bottom of the stairs, drawing his wings over him as he curled up into himself.

I left him there. He was too dangerous to touch, let alone help.