The Tyrant's Trophy
Phil

Phil

She had never looked so beautiful.

I think the look of defeat fits her nicely: with her eyes devoid of life and her body limp in my arms. I nearly did give up on her, my most cherished project.

Maybell had not shown an ounce of change aside from the subtle shift in strength and looks. It made each change easy to explain but I grew weary of waiting for the fruit of my labor. I’ve invested years into her and not once did she show me she was worth keeping. However, good things come to those who wait.

I refrained from visiting her when I locked her up. I spent time playing the “grief” stricken husband who lost his child at the hands of his mentally deranged wife. I had thought of just being rid of her altogether: spike her medications and just donate her organs when it ran its course. After, I would just find another woman to work on.

After all, women are just tools.

They’re stupid, really.

Ladies fall for any guy who takes the time to woo them and whores throw themselves at any man with deep pockets. So my options are truly endless.

It was always my plan B. That was until Maybell finally bloomed. I had decided to visit her at last, with plan B in my pocket. I entered the room after sending my workers away to run to care for the other passengers. They were worried but obeyed.

“Maybell.” I roamed my eyes across her body. There was dried blood caked on her wrists, indicating she fought fiercely against them.

How pathetic.

What an utter waste of years of my life.

Yet, I found that I liked her this way: Broken beyond any repair.

Though she was awake, she didn’t answer me. Her clouded eyes stared at the ceiling, unblinking, and without hope. God, she was a masterpiece this way. I wanted a picture of this: a memory to fondly gaze at from time to time.

Sighing, I scooted her body a bit and sat on the bed. “You’ve been very bad this year.” I chided as I reached into my pocket and took out the syringe and medicine. “Worse than last year.” Not really caring about where to stick the needle - it could burst a blood vessel for all I cared - I stuck the needle in her leg.

But before I could inject the liquid, she spoke up, startling me. “She was yours too, Phil.” Her voice was too strained, yet I heard her perfectly. “She was our baby. Why did you do it?”

Ah, so there’s still a bite in her left; Pity.

Why do women have to be so resilient? Then again, that’s why they’re the perfect creatures to test on. That baby was in the way: months of checking that thing, it wasn’t showing any worth. I had hoped that maybe the baby was the reason the tests on Maybell weren’t working. Maybe all the drugs I’d been pumping into her, were actually being transferred to the child, creating a hybrid of some sort but I was wrong. The thing was plain and it just gave my stupid wife the audacity to stand up to me.

She had even taken the allowance I gave her and planned to leave me. I knew that’s what she was concocting as soon as I found the hidden cash. So that thing inside her had to go.

But that’s not a thing a good husband should say to his sick wife. “Ah, my love,” I forced my voice to be as gentle as possible. “You’re confused, dear. I didn’t do anything: you’re the one who killed our baby.”

“Liar.”

I leaned down and rubbed my lips against hers. “That’s right,” I murmured in the caress. “But that’s a secret we’ll both take to our graves.”

That’s when it happened. In a flash, I felt something shove me off of her. My eyes widened in shock as Maybell’s hair whipped at me, grazing me on the face. “Liar!” She screamed. “YOU BELONG HERE!!!”

Her eyes were angry and glowing amber.

She thrashed against the restraints as her hair receded back to its original state and she screamed over and over to let her go. She had even tried jamming the liquid into herself but I snatched the needle out of her leg and left.

“GET BACK HERE, PHIL!” I could hear her shouting even when I reached the elevators. “DON’T LEAVE ME! PHIL! PHIL! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Logan, a man I hired to be my eyes and ears was waiting for me in my office. I had called him, after I decided to terminate Maybell, for a coverup and a list of potential girls to replace her with.

After what had happened though, plan B will have to be terminated.

“Boss, what happened to your face?”

I had even forgotten about the cut on my cheek. Closing the door, I felt my face pull itself into a smile. “Our lab rat is finally doing her job, that’s what.”

I had Logan wait on calling our investors. Maybell was finally in the growing stage but it was too soon to sell this precious research. There was more to do before selling the product and I also needed to work on adjusting the experiments for kids. The tests still went wonky on children but ironically enough, it doubled the strength in their organs, which made it perfect for selling in the black markets.

Lots of wealthy leaders went to the black market to solve their health problems, so those kids made me quite rich. Though the money is nice and brought me all I needed to continue my research, my goal feels far, still.

Once I deemed Maybell was thoroughly broken, I signed her out of the psych ward. I gave her time to physically heal: I even played nice during that time. I restrained from slapping her unless necessary and I would even hold her at night and stroke her hair. It made her feel at ease but also planted the seeds of doubt: that I still loved her and never did horrible things to her. That if asked, she can’t deny I’ve been a good husband. That and the fact she killed our baby meant, the cops, the judge, and the jury will always side with me.

After a while, she became a well domesticated mutt. That was until Abijah Iogair came along.

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