“Tell me how.” But she’s met with nothing. Colette offers no response, not even a whisper of a breath. Bunny’s rage grows by the second, little tremors making the stick bob. “Tell me how!” She shouts, threatening to swing.
A hiccup escapes Colette now, a fearful, “I-I?—”
The baton swishes through the air, a glass lamp flying. “Tell me!” Colette attempts to flee, but Bunny is on her in an instant, tearing chunks of hair from her head when forcing her against her chest. Bunny holds her still in the same position that I keep Nathan.
Their expressions are mirror-images of each other, oozing terror just like we did. I bet they didn’t think twice about the tears we shed.
Slicing the club across Colette’s cheek, Bunny snaps, “Enough of that. We just want to talk to you.” But neither of them is listening.
“Please!” Colette shrieks, Nathan chiming in, “I-I have money! You can have it all! Take anything you want!”
“Oh,” I chuckle, “I plan to.”
Without warning, I throw Nathan onto the floor, following quickly to crush his trachea beneath my foot. From behind me, I listen to Colette struggle on the bed, her hoarse voice shouting at me, “Get off of him!” I dig my foot in a little deeper, an act of rebellion to let them know they will never control me again.
Heel pressing into his throat, I lean slightly back, watching my balance while Bunny struggles on the bed. “Bun, check the drawer. I need them still.” Turing back around, I face Nathan, missing Bunny’s response. The only thing I catch is a growled, “Don’t try anything. I don’t have any patience for snakes with pretty tears,” followed by rummaging. I keep my eye on both Nathan and Colette, ready for either of them to make a sudden move. Nathan’s kind of a pussy, so I don’t think he will, but Colette? Her eyes are fucking fiending for it.
For a weighted moment, Colette’s eyes never leave mine, consideration heavy in the air, but then they flick toward the door. It’s a flash of a second, but that's all I need. That next moment, with a fearful cry, Colette springs up from the bed and darts straight for the door.
Transferring all my weight to the balls of my feet, I jump off Nathan’s throat and charge at her. The tight muscles in her neck stiffen and pulse against my palm. Before her terror can burn a hole in my hand, I send her soaring back toward the bed.
I expect Bunny to catch her, to hold her down in a similar fashion as I have Nathan, but Bunny swings instead. Teeth and chunks of pink flesh go flying, staining the pristine cream floors. With bits and pieces landing on his horrified face, Nathan scurries backwards on his hands and heels, trying to speak through gasping breaths.
“W-w-w-why?!” He cries. “Why?!What do you want?!”
“Why don’t you tell us?” Bunny snarls in response, teeth bared in his face.
The melodic and soothing rhythm of jazz still booms in the background, but in here, Nathan’s sniffles and cries are the loudest noise around. With an exaggerated sigh, Bunny stands before him, glaring into eyes that refuse to meet hers. Still, she waits, hoping he’ll remember.
I watch the anxiety grow on her face as the seconds tick on. Finally, Nathan looks up, but it isn’t her eyes he locks on.
“It’s you…” he whispers, skin turning a sickly shade of green. “The ranch boy.” Nathan looks ready to hurl all over my borrowed clothes, but it’s my stomach that twists in knots.
The ranch boy.
I was, huh.
I was something more than just this. I mattered, maybe not to my dad or my uncle, but I had things that loved me—casting a glance toward Bunny.I have things I love, too.
“Bun,” I mutter, rubbing away some of the tension in my chest, “did you find what I need?”
Shooting one last glare at Nathan, she reaches behind her, grabbing a silky, red rope to toss to me. Other interesting goodies were hiding in the bedside cabinet, but I don’t need those.
Not yet, anyway.
Taking the soft fabric in my hand, I drag Nathan to the spacious, lofty part of the room, fixing him in the center to tie his wrists to his ankles. “Bun,” I call, “get her.” Bunny grabs a fistful of sleek black hair, swatting away weak, flying hands, and drags her to my feet.
Damn, I think to myself. Bunny really got her good.
Mouth pouring thick, gooey blood, black as it seeps between her fingers. Colette attempts to keep all her teeth in her mouth, but I spot little white dots beneath the crimson. Bunny snarls something in a quiet tone.
Colette cries in response, “I didn’t do anything!” But we tune her out. “Please!” she continues, snot bubbling out of her nose when I begin binding her the same way as her lover. Bunny paces the space in front of us, eyeing Colette with enough hatred to kill.
“You said you knew me,” she says, lowering herself. “I want you to tell me how.” I stay silent while she presses, but I watch her face closely. With only inches between us, I can spot the recognition in her eyes. Colette glares at Bunny, full of understanding, but she’d admit her sins if she acknowledged them. So, instead, Colette spits ambiguities.
“I took your photos.”
“Is that it?” Bunny hisses. “Is that what you did?”
