Hidden in the Red Mark

Loy’s steps slowed at the end of the hall, the hideous white lights of the sitting room glaring ahead. She hated everything about it. The only time it was ever used was for guests, the space where it was most obvious her Mother wished they were wealthier. Nothing was ever moved from the spots Mother chose for them. But no matter the arrangement, the garish white and ice blue furniture was obviously too big and shiny for the humble house. The grey fur carpet stopped a foot short of the walls so that the family could walk along the outer edges, avoiding the cost of getting it cleaned. Loy tried to ignore it, but it was central to the house, and she had to look at it if she was going anywhere besides her bedroom.

Clenching her socked toes she stepped on the narrow walkway, and was nearly halfway around the room, towards the kitchen, when she noticed the boy. His pale blue clothes blended in with the walls, only a small movement, a slight adjustment in his shoulders, had brought him to her attention. His silence was unnerving. But it was most disturbing to see his feet confidently planted in the center of the carpet, not a blemish from his shoes in its swirling strands. Mother would have a heart attack.

From this angle Loy could only see the back of him, but she was positive she didn’t know him, all of her friends knew the rules of the sitting room.

“Oh dear, this was supposed to be a surprise!”

Loy flinched at the weight of Mother’s hands on her shoulders from behind, her newly polished nails snagging on her t-shirt.

“What surprise? Who’s that boy?”

With a cloud of lavender scent Mother swept past her to approach him, her long striped satin skirt wrapping around her legs as she walked expertly across the thick carpet in her black heels. The boy didn’t react at Mother carelessly grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards her, his arm hanging limp in her grip as he passively followed her back to Loy.

When he came into the light Loy was struck by his black hair and forest green eyes. As soon as she saw the bright red line that was drawn from the base of his lower lip to the bottom of his chin, she realized why he was there. Mother was practically bursting with satisfaction, her lips curling upwards as she began to stroke his hair.

“But…I’m only fifteen. Tomorrow.”

Mother’s smile crumbled fractionally. Her hand flew to the locket around her neck, a plain heart-shaped piece of jewelry that had always seemed out of place with Mother’s luxurious style.

Loy rushed to fix her mistake. “What I meant was, I thought you would maybe get me one next year, I’m just surprised.”

“One what?” Loy sagged in relief at her father’s innocent interruption as his tall wiry frame strolled in from the kitchen, an apron around his waist. His grey eyes widened over his bushy beard when he noticed the stranger. Instinctively father came to stand beside Loy. They had come to support each other more as Loy became older and more aware of the monopoly of power that Mother held over all of them.

“I thought you decided to get her one in two years?” He asked in a mild tone, looking the boy up and down with a curious eye.

“Well, I changed my mind.” She replied irritably, “And the Council gave her special permission, which was a spectacular honor.” Mother looked back to the boy and her smile returned. “It’s not every day a young woman gets to have a Modal Husband so early in the game. We want Loyalty to be the perfect wife when the time comes.”

Loy cringed at the use of her full name. It had become popular for children to be named after things that made them sound more marriageable, but Mother had gone overboard with hers. “Can this one do any fancy tricks?” Father said, always trying to lighten the load of Mother’s words.

“A Modal Husband is not a toy, Greg.” Mother scolded, “It is a scientific marvel that the Women’s Council has been generous enough to share with its public. This perfect replica of a boy, is flawlessly designed to serve Loy as any husband should, with no capability to refuse her, or question authority.” She finished with a meaningful stare, forcing father to look down at the carpet.

“What’s his name?” Loy knew the question would please Mother, and the proud look she received confirmed it.

“Its given name is ‘Richard,’” she replied, running her finger over the red line, the mark given to all MHs to identify them as property of the Women’s Council. Loy hadn’t been around many MHs. All of her girlfriends were too young to have one, but she’d noticed that they weren’t very talkative.

“This way we can also replace it early on if anything happens. Your cousin Marvelous went through three of them. They’re so fragile they need careful supervision. Pleasing to the eye, but not very engaging.” Mother dug her fingernails into Richard’s chin before sharply releasing his face, angry welts taking shape in his dark skin. For a moment Loy thought she saw something flicker in his eyes, but it was so brief she could’ve imagined it. “Well, don’t be shy. Examine it, is it to your liking?” Mother grabbed Loy’s hand and yanked it towards Richard’s face, making her stumble slightly in an effort to stay off the carpet.

Several things happened all in the same moment. The oven timer rang in the kitchen. Loy’s eyes met with Richards. Her fingers were forced forwards.

Now, she could see the awareness in his gaze. Richard’s eyes narrowed a fraction and locked onto her approaching hand. Without warning he jerked towards her, his mouth swiftly opening and snapping shut on her thumb with a sickening crunch. Mother’s screams seemed oddly distant as Loy stared in shock at the splatter of blood on the carpet, and felt a mad streak of joy at the furry monstrosity’s ruin. Only when she looked at her own mutilated hand, four fingers where there should be five, did the pain begin to register. But by then she was already losing consciousness.