Part 14-Duplicity
Duplicity: deceitfulness in speech, conduct, or manner
His new favorite color was gold.
Though he knew that at some point he had known it was something else, it didn't matter anymore.
He knew her favorite color was gold too.
She gazed upon him, icy hands tangling in Cobb's golden hair, their bodies enveloped in the silk golden sheets of anniversaries past.
He was a damn good forger, he knew-he prided himself on it. If she preferred his guise to be the one of Dom, then so be it-he would do anything for the lovely Mal Cobb.
She was more than lovely-her beauty was matched with unpredictability not unlike the arctic sea of her eyes. Her stunt, appearing in that girl's Limbo right when he was getting information, almost ruined his cover. But they would forget. He knew they would forget. But right now he couldn't seem to do anything but hold her in his arms and whisper sweet nothings as she and him, as Cobb, celebrated their 3rd anniversary.
They were at the part at around 3 in the morning-he had this whole memory down to the tiniest grain, he had relived it perfectly so much. He was her Cobb. No, he was better than Cobb had ever been.
But she didn't know that. She trusted him, because after all-he was the great Dominic Cobb.
They were at that part where after hours of love-making, they stared into each other's eyes, neither one wanting to go to sleep. He wanted to praise her, to tell her how much he loved her, but Cobb hadn't done that-he had to do exactly as Cobb did or she would know.
"I love the stars." She whispered, smiling at him gloriously. She was an angel, she was more-she was his. For once in his life she was his. He was Dom, the best student in class, the one who had caught Mal's eye-the one she had married.
This is the part when Cobb reached out, tracing the side of her face with hapless fingertips-he leapt to action quickly, only to find himself one second too late. Her eyes cut themselves into deadly points as she hissed: "Thad."
A long, gory welt slit itself along her collarbone like magic, blood languidly mingling with the gold sheets.
Sudden tears welled up in her eyes, but they bothered him little. At least she wasn't as angry as last time-then he'd have to hurt her again.
"You aren't my Dom. Where's Dom? This isn't right. This didn't happen. Thad-oh, Thad what have you done to me?"
He laughed aloud, his eyes like lunging hounds: "You're mine, my sweet." And he continued trailing his fingers down her face, tears shadowing his hand. The collarbone cut began to bleed profusely, the blood flowing under him, onto her, splashing the sheets vermillion.
Though he knew his favorite color at some point had been gold, it didn't matter anymore.
His new favorite color was red.