Chapter Forty-Four #3
On the other side of my belt there’s a separate pocket with a box cutter in it.
I don’t use it very often, but when I do, it’s efficient.
I untie her hands from the trolley and pick them up one by one.
She’s clearly concussed, which is just how I like it.
Don’t get me wrong, I like a sassy little bitch, but this one I want to have some fun with.
I pull up one hand. “Wakey, wakey. Rise and shine. Did you ever sing nursery rhymes to Quinn as a baby?”
“When I had to,” she murmurs.
“Oooo. Let me guess? This Little Piggy? Shall we say it together?”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Jokes on her, I never had it to begin with.
“This little piggy went to market.” I slice her thumb.
“This little piggy stayed home.” I slice a finger.
“This little piggy had roast beef.” I slice the second one.
“And this little piggy had none.” I slice the third.
“And this little piggy.” I slice the pinky.
“Went wee, wee, wee, all the way home.” I dig the box cutter into her wrist and drag it all the way up to her elbow.
She squeals like a little pig, hyperventilating through the pain. “Yay!” I clap my hands. “Now it’s a party!”
She slumps back against the trolley, looking like she’s about to pass out. “Uh, I don’t think so, bitchface. Wake the fuck up.” I jolt her out of her stupor and force her off the trolley. “Stand up, you fucking cunt.”
She does as she’s told. “Step onto the edge.”
“What? Are you crazy?”
“Did I stutter? I told you Eric would be safe if you did as you’re told. Do I need to make a phone call?”
“No, no, no, please don’t hurt him. I’ll do it.”
She steps up to the side of the bridge. Stones crumble beneath her feet, and she freaks. “Please. I’m going to fall.”
“No,” I correct her. “You’re going to jump.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Remember your little baby, Eric?”
“Why are you doing this to me?” She can’t stand steady because of the blows to her head, and the blood is cascading down her arm and hands, dripping off into the precipice below.
“I told you, I’m a hunter. You’re an abuser. The perfect prey for this kind of predator. My favourites are the ones that stand there in pissy knickers crying.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“Then jump.”
“Except for that.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Andrea. I was told you would do anything not to be separated from Eric, but the way you’re going, you’re both gonna have to reunite in Hell.”
“But…”
“Shall I let you into a secret, Andrea?” I continue without her answering. “Not so long ago, after months of planning, the spot you’re currently standing in is the exact space Quinn was standing in when Harley found her about to end her life.”
“What a surprise, yet another thing she failed at.”
I baulk at her words. “What the fuck did you just say?” I slam my box cutter into her shoulder, pulling it back out as the music of her screams dances around me.
“Nothing. I didn’t mean it. I-I’m s-s-sorry.”
“In the words of JoJo, ‘You know, it’s just a little too late,’” I sing to her. “Time’s up. Jump.” I move closer to her, and she stumbles as more rocks fall from beneath her. “But I’ll die.” She whimpers.
“What a shame. You have a choice: jump or I push. You said she failed because she didn’t jump; are you going to be a failure too?”
“Please don’t make me do this. Don’t do this to my husband. Quinn wouldn’t want him to be alone,” she pleads.
“I’m really bored of your voice now. I was determined to make you jump because that would be ironic. But I actually can’t be assed to listen to you moan anymore. It’s grating on my ears. You’re fucking overstimulating, you know.”
“Ok, I’ll shut up, ple—”
I accidentally lose my temper and push her off the bridge. “Oops.” I peer over the bridge, her screams echoing around it as she falls to the water, and I hear a splash and then silence. I wait for a few moments before I hear the whir of a boat engine and my guy shouting up, “She’s dead.”
“Woohoo! Thanks mate. I owe ya! Drop her to the usual spot, please.”
“You’ve got it!” I hear the engine of the boat drive off into the distance, and X turns to look at me. “Feel better now?” he asks.
“Yep. One down, one to go.” He chuckles as he rolls his eyes.
“Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you.” He hands me the bottle of ammonia for the blood drops—not that it really matters—and I grab hold of the trolley, link my arm through his and head back down to the van.
We grabbed Dane later that night and took him back to the garage.
Safe to say I had lots of fun experimenting with the tools and may have even nabbed a few to add to my collection.
You might get the details at a later date, but for now, I have bits to stuff.
I pick up my phone and call my best friend.
“Hey, cunty bollocks. There’s a gift or two on the way for ya. ”
She squeals with excitement. “Ohmygod, yay! I was running out of ashes to mix with my acrylic.”
“You sick fuck.” I laugh.
“I love you, too, bitch tits. See ya.”
I hang up the phone and head back to the house to get some sleep. I’ll fill everyone in in the morning. Murder is a tiring business, you know.