A villain?
If ever there were a word to make an Antichrist stand tall, his wife had used it. Still, shouldn't a villain remember his bad deeds?
The thought plagued Chris, especially since he had to wonder if his blackouts were because of his mommy meddling again. Something kept nagging at him - out of sight, out of mind. It tickled the edges of his consciousness, but he couldn't grab hold of it and drag it into the light.
Rather than fret about it, because worry was for losers, he chased his wife up the stairs.
She still had a room in her old family home. And by room, he meant suite, with a sitting area and a massive bathroom made for debauchery.
She already had the water going and her clothes on the floor by the time he reached her. His outfit joined hers in a dirty pile seconds after.
However, when he went to grab hold of her and draw her close, her nose wrinkled.