Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Rhodes
The clouds shifting to cover the moon create shadows that stretch across the room before they consume it. A light breeze carries through the open window, ruffling the curtains and Lee’s fur since he’s lying so close to the windows.
It’s Sunday night. We’re leaving late tomorrow morning. The Fucked-Up-Four are still alive. I keep thinking about what Dad said and not letting my babies hunt. He’s right, of course. There’d be no explaining away my sweet babies’ involvement when they’re obviously right here.
I can’t think of the last time I killed a person on my own, though. And certainly not four at the same time. I’ve come to the conclusion that they’re likely not going to die here, which is rather unfortunate. I’d love for them to meet their end in the same place they’ve hurt others.
That’s poetic, isn’t it? It feels poetic. Then again, I’ve always been shit at poetry.
Lee lifts his head and looks to the window. I turn my head to watch him as he sits and peers out. Watching something that has his ears standing straight up and pointed directly in front of him as he listens intently.
That’s when I hear what sounds unmistakably like drunken laughter. Wow. Truly back in my high school days, now.
I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and join Lee at the window.
There’s someone up there watching over us because the clouds part in just the right light so that the moon’s bright white glow is much like the beam of a flashlight.
Who do I see in the spotlight as they stumble drunkenly into the trees?
“My lucky night,” I murmur as I watch them vanish from sight, though their antics aren’t quiet. I can probably track them by the noise they’re making alone.
My brain feels like it’s working overtime to put a plan into place. I don’t have a solid idea quite yet. The details are murky at best. However, if I want them to die in the place where they tormented so many others, now is my last chance.
“Lee, let’s go,” I whispered. “Sweetums, Lovey Cakes, and Velvet, stay with Bennett. Keep him warm and safe.”
I glance at the man sprawled out in bed. He’s a fucking ray of sunshine, even in sleep. Ugh. It makes my stomach churn; the acid mutilating the butterflies that might be trying to flutter about.
Sweetums carefully climbs onto the bed where I’d been lying beside Bennett. She looks at me with dark eyes, probably annoyed that I’m making her stay behind.
Don’t worry. This is going to be a disappointing night for all of you, I tell her in my head as I quietly shut the bedroom door, though I don’t let the latch click shut. I dress quickly and leave my phone behind. No need for the GPS to tattle on me.
“Absolute silence,” I tell my babies as we step into the hall. It’s dead o’clock in the morning so the halls are as silent as a graveyard.
We meet no one as we make our way through the dorm room and into the treeline. “Listen carefully,” I tell my babies. “Herd them to the stables. Do not touch them, but you may scare them to the point that they shit themselves. Go.”
All four babies melt into the trees. I remain perfectly still as I listen for their paws hitting the ground. Honestly, these babies weigh more than I do. I’ll never not be impressed with how silently they move.
I couldn’t do that if my life depended on it. Fortunately for me, it doesn’t.
While I’m not a silent killer, I’m also not a traipsing elephant. I move quietly through the trees in the direction of the stables. I feel like it’d be even more poetic if I could get them all in nooses. They think they’re untouchable, and life moves on for them, but that’s not the case.
Their actions, their abuse, left a damn kid feeling like his only chance of escaping them was death. No consequences. No blame. No one even looked at them, regardless of the multitude of evidence found against them after the suicide of their victim.
I can hear it now. I can see the headlines. They have wives. They have kids. They don’t deserve to die like that, even if you don’t agree with them.
Having a wife and kids doesn’t excuse you from being a bad person. It doesn’t erase your bullying or the life you caused to end too soon. It doesn’t make you immune to consequences, even all these years later.
The polo field is bathed in moonlight when I make my way out of the trees.
In the distance, I hear a scream. Grinning, I stuff my hands into my pockets and walk around the perimeter of the field.
The horses are quiet. I doubt they care if I use their stables as a place of death.
It’ll give them something to watch, anyway.
The back door is squeaky as I push it open. The pitch makes me shudder. That sound shouldn’t exist in life. It sets one’s jaw on edge. Like nails down a chalkboard. Awful.
The horse closest to the door lifts its large head over its half gate. I stop to scratch its nose as I look up at the rafters. Oh yeah, perfect. Not too high. Do I have time to tie nooses, though?
Ah, and stools. Plenty of stools. There’s one in front of each horse. Now… rope?
“Your stalls are made for hangings, aren’t they? Look at all the rope you have here. Have you witnessed deaths, sweetheart?” I ask.
More heads come out of their stalls to watch me. Such kind eyes. I take my time to say hello to each of them.
“For allowing me to bloody your bedroom, I’ll give you extra treats before I leave. But you must keep my secret, okay?”
A scream splits the air. One of the horses responds with a whinny. Their ears flicker. I take a minute to settle them down.
They respond well enough to my voice, so I keep it calm as I move slowly throughout their area, readying my hanging points. “They won’t hurt you,” I tell them. “They’re such wonderful, beautiful, sweet babies. Remember, you and Lee became friends after the polo match, Raleigh.”
It’s fortunate that the habit of putting horses’ names over their stalls is common. Even in the dark, I can make out the big letters.
“You’re such a sweetheart. They’re going to be so excited to see you again.” The stalls are honestly one of the best places for this activity. My pups have already been down here. We visited the stables after polo on Saturday. Of course, their paw prints are all over the place.
Not that it matters. No one can convince someone that my dogs hung people.
Just as I’ve hung the last noose, making sure it’s secure enough to hold a man three times my weight, all the horses turn to look at the back door seconds before it swings open. The door slams against the wall as Dusk comes falling through the door.
The look of terror on his face is comical. He smells of urine. His shirt is ripped, and he’s all muddy. His eyes are dilated, but as he crumbles to the ground at my feet, the smell of alcohol overpowers the stench of urine.
“Look at you now,” I mutter.
He looks up at me blearily. “There’s a monster in the woods,” he wails. “I heard its jaws snapping. I heard its growls. It’s big, surrounding us. Its tentacle is wrapped around my ankle.”
I glance at his ankle, slightly surprised to find that it appears like something is actually wrapped around it.
“That’s… curious,” I note. “You know what you can do to make it go away?”
Dusk shakes his head wildly.
“Stand right up here.” I lean down to tap the stool. However, as he gets to his feet, he can’t keep his balance and I’m seeing the flaw in my plan.
As he struggles, I climb up and continue to assure him that the two feet from the ground the stool is will keep him safe from all the monsters; I search around for gloves. There we go.
“That’s it,” I assure him as a series of screams makes the horses dance and Dusk falls on his ass. I glance up at the noose with a frown. I should have thought this through.
“Come on,” I urge. “The tentacle just came into the room there.” I point toward the door. “Look how unsettled the horses are. It’s coming.”
Dusk scrambles to his feet. I shove one of the stools beside his and help him up. My stomach rolls as I reach to steady him. Ew. I just remembered why I don’t kill people personally anymore. That means I have to touch them. Their black souls might rub off on me.
“That’s it,” I encourage.
“Don’t let it get me,” he shrieks right in my ear.
I glower at him. “Stand straight, already. Be a fucking man, Dusk! Get it together.”
He’s shaking. Somehow, and I don’t know how I succeed, I get the rope around his neck and tighten it. “There you go,” I coo. “It’ll help you stand up straight. Better?”
“It’s a little tight,” he gasps, his hand reaching over and behind his head to grab onto the rope.
I step down from the stool and kick it back into position under the next rope. This needs to happen more quickly. I’m going to run out of moonlight if I have to coax each one of these assholes into their necklaces.
“Remember when we were kids?” I ask. “What was the guy’s name that you picked on so badly he hung himself? Do you remember?”
Dusk snorts. “Chris? Such a fucking loser. The world is better now.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Everyone like that loser needs to disappear. The world would be much better without them. He took up valuable oxygen.”
“Do you think his parents agreed?”
He laughs and then whimpers when he nearly falls off the stool.
“I wonder how your parents will feel when they find out you hanged yourself? What will your wife think? Your kids?”
“I’m not going to do that. I’m important. I matter.”
I nod as I move to stand in front of him. There’s just barely enough light for me to look at him. “Make sure you tell the devil hello for me. I’ll be seeing you in hell.” I kick the stool from under him and watch his body drop.
The rope creaks. His body twitches. He gurgles, flails. I shift to examine the rope and angle of his neck as his face bleeds from deep red to purple. Maybe not a far enough fall for a quick break, but he’s certainly going to die like this.
Lee comes wandering into the stable and stops in front of Raleigh’s stall. I smile as their noses touch. Then I sigh. Three more times. There must be an easier way.
But as I look at Dusk’s body swinging slightly, I think of Chris. I think of the notebooks he left behind. The torment he lived through every single day. I think of the rest of my classmates who kept their heads down so they didn’t face the same treatment.
High school isn’t different for rich kids.
It’s the same hellscape everywhere. No matter who you are, you’re subject to the same treatment.
The same nasty parents create even nastier offspring.
Kids who think that their words don’t actually tie the noose.
Parents who think their fingers didn’t actually pull the trigger when they handed their unstable children loaded guns.
I scratch Lee behind the ear, and we listen to the screams and branches breaking get closer. Time to start from the beginning. Will the next one be ranting about monsters in the woods, too? I hope so. As long as I’m the last monster they see before they die.