Sounds cheap. No, thanks.
Careful, Armstrong. I’m finding you extremely amusing.
Everyone does.
Everyone isn’t me.
I don’t see the difference.
The difference is that it’s not good for you if I keep finding you amusing.
Fuck Osbornwith a broken hockey stick dipped in glitter.
Amen.
It doesn’t matter that he didn’t get back to me for three days straight. Because I’m having funtonight!
And by fun, I mean that I’m going on a hunt.
Technically, it’s Jude’s hunt. Some people stood by and watched in a public square as his mom was stabbed to death over twenty times. Nasty business, I know.
And Jude is on a revenge mission since he also has mommy issues—we bonded over that, isn’t it poetic? Spoiler alert, Dr. Duret says it’s not.
His form of revenge gets my heartfelt stamp of approval. Because here’s the thing, the cameras for that incident were wiped clean by Julian—starting to see the pattern with that control freak? He probably did that because he didn’t want Jude to be distracted by what he believes is “meaningless” revenge.
However, Kane managed to access one of the camera’s recordings before it got deleted. In true nerdy Kane fashion—also spelledoverachiever, if you wish—he made a list of the people who were there.
Every so often, he gives Jude a file, and the big man starts by stalking them, making their lives hell, manipulating them to kingdom come. Then, at the final stage, he kidnaps and releases them into the forest, hunts them down, and kills them.
It’s the most satisfying shit ever, if you ask me.
Mostly because I always get to participate, and if I’m fast enough, I even manage to kill some of the suckers.
Today, unusually, Kane joined, probably chasing some demons so he won’t think about Dorothy—his sort-of girlfriend, whom I still don’t approve of, FYI.
Can’t trust anyone who dated that sucker Osborn—even if it was only for a couple of weeks.
Anyway, Jude and I are suited up in full black—gloves, shiny knives, the whole homicidal starter pack. Big man even put on a raincoat so he “doesn’t get too drenched in blood.”
Boo. That’s literally the best part.
“Ready for some fun?” I ask as we stand on the porch, staring into the kind of pitch-black darkness that horror movies warn you about.
Sometimes the dark feels like it wants to eat me alive. Other times—like today—it’s basically my emotional support void.
The only place I can actually breathe.
Jude released tonight’s target fifteen minutes ago, and we watched the sleazy middle-aged bastard—whose eyes are on my personal to-do list—bolt into the forest like a terrified raccoon.
“You can have all the fun you want, but his life is mine,” Jude says, standing on the other side of Kane, twirling his hockey stick.
I tilt my head in Kane’s direction. “No weapon?”
He tucks his phone away—finally prying himself from whatever doomscroll he’s been married to—and shifts his jacket just enough to reveal his gun.
“Man, you’re so boring.” Jude shakes his head. “I bet it comes with a silencer, too.”
“Naturally. Can’t leave evidence behind.”
