He's supposed to be the killer, and I'm supposed to be the bait. And yet, I don't really feel bad about taking the kill from him.
I stole his fix, and now I'm high on it.
“They'll be suspicious when they don't see him come back. I'm going to go collect the next one, but I need you to go deeper into the warehouses, to creep in the shadows. I need you to hide.”
“Hide?” I shake my head. “No. I want to... I want to kill.”
He stares at me for a beat in perfect silence. I wonder if I shouldn't have confessed to that, but he doesn't seem exactly bothered by it.
“It can be dangerous. I don't know if they're armed.”
I almost make a joke about how the man who planned tokill meis now worried I'll die, but I decide not to bring that up.
“I'm not fucking hiding.” I tell him instead. And just in case he thinks he can persuade me, I repeat myself. “I'm not fucking hiding, not in my head or in this warehouse. I am not afraid.”
It's true.
I'm not afraid. And I'm not numb.
I'mexcited, damn near giddy at the prospect of watching another man's mouth curve in shock as I take his life, steal his soul, and collect his final heartbeats.
“Okay.” He nods, giving me what I want again. “Then I want you by my side. If anything happens, I need to be able to get to you.”
I smile, his declaration from earlier settling like a warm blanket around my shoulders. “Don't forget my playlist.”
He grins, reaching for his phone and queuing up the compilation I put together earlier. In our early planning, he mentioned that he'd equipped the warehouse with a system of Bluetooth speakers so that when we started the loud part, we could cover the screams just in case there were any campers in the woods surrounding us.
He'd planned for some heavy metal, which is fine, but I took the opportunity of making a more... curated selection.
We've planned every detail, and while some of the events haven't transpired according to plan, this one still makes sense.
The first song to come on is One Way or Another by Blondie.
It plays a few seconds from his phone before it connects to the Bluetooth speakers he planted in every other room. I see his confusion as he recognizes the tune and watch it melt the minute understanding hits.
He fuckinglaughs, and it's the most incredible sound. Pride spikes inside of me that I make him laugh, that he does what I ask him to do, and that he accepts my crazy. Because I’mdefinitelycrazy.
I know this isn’t mentally well. I just don’t care.
“You beautiful lunatic.” He shakes his head and then crushes his mouth against mine, his hands on either side of my face to hold me there so he can disengage when I try to return the kiss. “They'll be coming now.”
I nod, taking that as his warning that we need to focus. He grabs my shoulders, his own jagged knife clenched in his fist as he spins me to face the opposite direction so that we stand back to back, just waiting. I don't know if the men he brought here are smart enough to split up, if they're dumb enough to come seek us, or if they're smart enough to realize there's absolutely no way out. I watched Cal lock the door in place when we came here earlier. The bolt on the floor locks that door, and even if they manage to get it, we'll hear the walls shuddering as they raise it up. It's how I knew they were here, how I had time to mentally prepare myself for what I was going to do.
And besides, I doubt they'll go running just because I decided to play some mood music.
I'm right. They didn't try to leave.
I hear the echoing footsteps, the voices, and the expletives as they move through the warehouse, entirely confused about what's going on, entirely unaware of the death trap they're willingly walking into.
Their fates were sealed the minute they agreed to rape me. And sure, maybe we lured them into it. But none of them are upstanding citizens, and every one of them has been accused of the very same deed they intended to commit tonight.
And who am I to deprive them of their fun?I'mcertainly going to have my fill.
“What the fuck?” One of the men mutters, stumbling out of the darkness as he squints at me, trying to decide if he's seeing what he thinks he's seeing.
“What the fuck is the girl from The Shining doing here?” One of them quips, clearly not having noticed the knife in my hand yet.
I turn my wrist a little so that the handle is pressed against the flat of my arm, concealing the blade for a moment longer, emboldening them to draw closer. I don't suppress the small smile that quirks my lips as the two of them stumble in the darkness, clearly high.
