Anne
The lights came on abruptly and I blinked as my eyes adjusted.
Eva and Gareth’s mundane chatter had put me to sleep.
The footsteps came, clicking on the cement floor.
Before I looked at him, the silver drain caught my eye.
Gareth looked awful, stubble thickening.
Eva was too busy staring at the kidnapper in horror.
I turned my head. Pale grey suit. Expensive. Clean-shaven jaw. I could take more than his stubble off—an incision from the hairline, tracing the ears, jaw and chin, peeling his face away cleanly.
Those dark eyes would do well in my dehydrator. Shrivelled to the size of a marble before I sliced off the harder sections and used the malleable portion.
Broad shoulders and chest.
I’d put my knife into him so many times he’d resemble a pin cushion. His own reinforced knives would be perfect for it.
He tossed a foiled package and a banana into each cage. I moved closer as he approached mine. He paused to glance at my hands before pushing the food through the bars.
“How do you expect me to wipe my arse with these on?”
“Dislocate your shoulders?” He shrugged.
I pictured the chisel between his teeth, the mallet coming down hard enough to crack his skull clean open.
“You look angry.”
“I’d clap for your observation skills, but I’m handcuffed.”
I couldn’t place him. A complete stranger. One who’d been spying on me.
My eyes dropped to his abdomen. Soft innards. I’d slice him open and tie his intestines up in a bow.
“See something you like?” he teased.
I ignored him—and that’s when I noticed the other two had gone quiet. I glanced over. Eyes wide, lips parted like a pair of imbeciles. I also noticed they were naked but for their blankets.
I had questions.
Was this a sex dungeon?
No—kill room. None of this was new to him.
Mid-thirties. Older than me. No wedding ring. Professional. A killer.
My eyes travelled down to his spotless black shoes.
Precise.
The suited dickhead looked far too pleased with himself. I had a feeling he’d love me asking questions. So I turned my back on him.
My silent fuck you.
No one moved.
When the silence grew loud enough, I smiled to myself.
A few beats—then his footsteps moved away from my cage.
Pussy.
I’d have rammed a chopstick up his nose and made his brain bleed for me.
The door closed. The lock clicked into place.
“Why does she get to have clothes?” Eva whined. “She got the largest banana.”
That fucking arsehole.
This was why I hated people.
“Anne? Are you okay?” Gareth asked, ignoring Eva.
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t about to play anyone’s game. I’d never wanted to die in a mundane way—we all had a limited lifespan, and I was comfortable with that fact. One day I would die and join the great void.
But to spend whatever time remained in the company of these two dumb fucks was intolerable. I hoped that fucker had a complaints process.
?? ?? ??
Five hours later I was rationing my banana. I lay in the cage, portable toilet in the far corner. It was deeply off-putting, hearing them piss, fart and shit. Eva was the worst—she sighed as she took a dump.
I found myself grateful for the ventilation and the sporadic automated air freshener.
That was the unglamorous part of death. The piss and shit that followed. There should be a killers’ forum where everyone shared tips and tricks—except no one would log on out of paranoia.
No human could be trusted.
I had no patience for animals either.
It was just my house and I. Even that sacred ground had been contaminated by the dickhead.
“Do you think you’re better than us?” Eva asked.
I reached for the banana and broke a small piece off.
“Mmmmmmm,” I said, smacking my lips as I chewed.
“You’re such a bitch,” she shrieked, then burst into tears.
“Can you stop being mean to her?” Gareth snapped. “You don’t know what she’s been through. You don’t know what he did to her.”
She sobbed louder.
I wondered if I could strike a bargain with the dickhead. Let me kill Gareth first. I wanted him sliced open so I could watch his lungs expand and contract before I cut sections away.
Before or after the testicles?
Before. Definitely before.
No one ever knew what Owen and my father did to me. No one cared—and why would they?
I stretched my arms up and looked at the faded scars.
Cuts I’d made myself. They’d become deeper over time.
Part of me got high off the pain—it took my mind to places that made me happy.
It took years of reframing to fully escape the temptation.
The only thing that helped was prepping for my next target.
Eva continued to cry.
Gareth continued to console her.
I mentally cursed them all.