Anthony began muttering curses under his breath as he raced over to The Bed & Breakfast that the old woman ran- Granny was the name he could remember, the old woman with the young granddaughter in the red shorts. Heart beating against his ribs, he threw open the door to the motel, surprising the teen as he stomped up the stairs- when she had gotten there, it didn't matter. Ruby was only going to try and flirt with him even further.
Something he knew Mr. Todd would not be happy with.
Gulping, Anthony came to a stop at the top of the stairs, pulling at the hem of his shirt, wrapping the scarf tight around his neck until he was almost cutting off circulation. The boy sighed.
Not breathing was probably better than anything Mr. Todd did when he was angry. It was better, actually, then anything Mr. Todd did in general. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he approached the door, dust swirling in the shafts of light that came in through the hallway windows. Swallowing hard, he raised a hand, his fingers trembling as he closed them around the door handle.
Turning the damn thing felt like time and space had slowed down, like he was pushing his way through a pool of molasses or tar. A grandfather clock sat up against a wall farther down the corridor from the room he shared with Mr. Todd, ticking down the seconds that passed with each waste of time, just standing there. Anthony could feel a tingle in his arm- he had to open the door sometime.
Better sooner than later.
Finally, he pushed it open, eyes warily scanning the perimeter as he tiptoed into the hotel room. His breath clouded in the stale air as it burst from his nose, like a dragon about to breath fire. The room, it appeared, was not in the best shape. In fact, it was probably worse than when he and Mr. Todd had arrived. The shag carpet was frayed an thin on the floor, a good five inches of dust covering every available surface. The thing curtains had holes and rips as they flapped pitifully against the window. Once he stepped into the room there was a crunch underfoot. He lifted his toes.
A vase was shattered into crystalline pieces, the shards menacingly sharp. Anthony sighed- it was something else Mr. Todd was going to make him take care of again, he knew it. He went to pick up the pieces when he heard it.
The cold voice.
The one filled with hatred and disgust.
"And where have you been, hmm?" Mr. Todd said pleasantly.
Anthony ran a hand through his hair nervously, bones creaking as he straightened himself out. He knew he was going to get in trouble if he told Mr. Todd the truth. But the same thing happens when I lie, he thought forlornly, shivering at the mere thought of what the man was capable of the corner of his eye, he saw a black spider crawl across the floor to slip under the bed that was pushed up against the far wall. The sheets were rumpled, with weird stains decorating the blankets and mattress. Mr. Todd was siting at the vanity, a set of blades placed in front of him. Anthony felt his knees buckle slightly.
But not enough to collapse, thankfully.
"Well?" Mr. Todd pressed, eyeing him with a raised brow.
"I was…. out," Anthony answered softly, reluctantly. Mr. Todd nodded, passing the pads of his fingers together. It was something Anthony knew all too well- especially when he had the shaving tools out in front of him.
"I presume you saw that girl at the diner?" Mr. Todd guessed, yelling as Anthony groaned, "Don't you roll your eyes at me, young man!" Anthony couldn't help it- even though Ruby was definitely an attractive young woman, he was still in love with Johanna.
Johanna, with her beautiful yellow hair…. a kind smile…
Anthony grinned as he began to think of her- much to Mr. Todd's chagrin.
"It was her then, eh boy?" a sly grin crossed the man's face, snapping Anthony back to reality. He shook his he'd vigorously, taking a step back. The already shattered vase cracked even more underfoot. The sound of a chair scraping the floor was faint- he ignored it.
"Crap," Anthony muttered, turning to apologize.
Only to have a flash of silver backhanded across his face.
Without a word, Anthony put a hand to his face. His fingers came away sticky with red. Mr. Todd's blade, in return, dripped rubies, staining the already disgusting carpet.
"What did I tell you, Anthony? About cursing in this house?" Mr. Todd sneered, rubbing his dirty fingers along the curve f the blade. It glinted harshly in the sun. Anthony wanted so bad to talk back. To say something. Anything.
But he found himself unable to find the words, instead painstakingly desperate to fight back tears.
Throat feeling like it was about to close, Anthony answered softly, "That you forbade it…." He coughed, dust tickling his throat and nose. Mr. Todd picked at his black hair. It stuck out as if he had just gotten electrocuted, a single white stripe decorating the left side. Nodding Mr. Todd inspected the shaving utensil, grinning smugly as he wiped off the blood, flicking it off his fingers. A fly buzzed around the single lightbulb inside the fixture on the ceiling.
"That's right," Mr. Todd confirmed, "so don't let me hear you do that again." Almost microscopic, Anthony nodded. Eyes scanning the room, he rested his gaze at the hem of the blankets that hung off the bed.
Mr. Todd didn't see it, but Anthony knew what was under there. Much like Johanna had been reserved, the space under the bed was reserved for one thing Anthony possibly loved as much as Johanna: his guitar.
Whenever he had a chance, he'd sneak it out of its case and strum the strings. The smell of freshly polished wood always lingered, and Anthony often had to cover up the scent with dust or some sort of greasy food.
Playing guitar was something Mr. Todd considered a waste of time. It was something that the man never truly appreciated, having an affinity for cutting hair since he could remember. Just the flash of silver in the light, Anthony noticed, was enough to make Mr. Todd go on and on about the beauty of the blade- his 'friends', as he called them.
The thought of what he use to do with those blades made Anthony shiver in his boots. Leaving his far and the vase on the floor alone, he went to reach for the door.
"And Anthony?" Mr. Todd voiced. The floorboards creaked as the barber went back to his bases, lowering himself gracefully into the chair.
Anthony froze, his fingers grazing the cold metal of the doorknob.
"Y-yes, Mr. Todd?"
"Don't forget to tidy up the shop," he said, "today is, after all, the grand opening of our quaint little home." Anthony bit his lip, nodding once again. He felt wrath running over his chin- he had broken the skin with his teeth, creating red rivers on white paper.
"Of course, Mr. Todd," he breathed, the door creaking as he exited.
He made sure to close it quietly, turning the knob with a soft click.