CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RAZOR
Iron’s staining the inside of my nose. So deep, the acrid punch is resting on my tongue and dripping down my throat, awakening an urge I keep asleep.
Heaving for air, the prominent odor amplifies. It’s flashing and flickering bright lights that tear through the black I’ve been absorbed in.
I feel myself staggering back, my weight sinking through my fucking heels and tugging my chest toward the ground, leaving my posture something inhumane, like a beast stuck in a small cage.
It feels it, anyway.
Each time the light slices through my retinas, I get a choppy shot of my arms swinging up, my hands gripping the axe I vaguely remember grabbing by a sandbag behind the curtain.
I swing it down. Over and over. Chopping into thickness.
Each hack squelches, sputtering and spitting warmth over my face and up my arms, some of it clinging and hanging from my hair.
I blink hard, shaking my head with the hope that I pull myself out of the slasher film playing through it. But even when I do come out of it, the spotlight flaring over my eyes is raining its warm light on tattered meat and limbs swimming in liquid crimson around me.
Shit.
This is a fucking mess. And it’s not like I can expect you to help. Even if you did do something other than silently lurk, it’s not your fucking mess. This isn’t your fault. But I’m getting mad like it is and I’m sorry.
“Fuck,” I exhale hoarsely, relaxing my numb hand.
The loud clank and thud by my foot shoots my shuttering focus down to the wet axe that’s already leaving a puddle. Which has me panning around the chopped-up body, each chunk jagged from impulsive swings, some garnered by remnants of clothing, others twisted and lashed, drenched in blood.
A white strip catches my eye. I circle back to it, angling my head to step closer to the black and white photos marred with scarlet, like wine spreading over film.
Squatting down, I reach over what used to be a waist, plucking the photo strip up. Demonic hands are attached to it, stretching and snapping, as if the images good ole Junior was carrying with him are meant to be taken to the grave.
Vore is his grave. He’ll never leave.
So… don’t mind if I do.
I wipe the photo strip off with my fingers, smearing and clearing, until my favorite big, awkward eyes and button nose are relieved of his funk.
“What… the… fuck?” I mumble through gravel, scanning down the blocks of Bunny and Ora in the Photo Booth.
“Tell me, does he know you kiss other people when he’s not around?”
My stomach sinks and ice penetrates my veins, slamming my face with all the heat of my body and gluing my eyes to something I never wanted to see again.
Bunny. My Bunny. Kissing someone else.
Oh, but, Razor, it’s a girl. Her friend. Most guys like-
Nah, she locked lips with someone else, knowing how fucking desperate I’ve been to kiss her. I just fucking killed for her, for chrissake.
Feeling a quiet presence sink through my skin, my barbed sight slices up and hooks on the faint, sweaty faces looking right at me from the front row.
“Dude,” Xene shakes his brain a little, a laugh splitting his face as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his head falling back over the seat he’s lounged in.
Cash doesn’t uncross his arms. Just… remains standing, staring at me with shame, like he hasn’t participated in worse. “Now how the hell you thinkin’ you’re gonna clean that up, huh? Or did you wanna get caught?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I grit out, my voice dry. Folding the photo strip, I straighten my legs up and stash the film into my side pocket. “But standing here gossiping isn’t gonna make it magically disappear.”
“Who even was that?” Cash raises his voice, directing a stiff hand to what might be in the turkey legs next.
“A homicide detective that’s been targeting Bunny,” I tell him.
Cash’s lips stretch tight to his teeth, his eyes flaring wide and his outstretched hand clenching into a fist. “Homicide? Detective? Already sent out on the job to poach answers? And you-” Clutching his damp head, his eyes fade from mine, absently landing on the massacre. “Chemicals, bags, distraction. Go!”
“No,” my shoulders flex back, my head shaking. “Get the fuck out. Both of you. You were never here. You did what you got paid to do, got fucked up, then went home, ate some shitty food and passed out. That’s all. That’s it.”
Cash sticks a hard middle finger up at me, his face stressed and his other hand balled at his side. “Fuck you and fuck that!”
“Can I be the distraction?” Xene asks, not having moved a single inch. “I don’t really wanna touch that right now. I can go out there and swing my dick around, make some helicopter noises.”
Rage ruptures out as a gust from Cash’s lips, his head whipping back and his disrespectful gesture evolving into a stern point. “You’d get locked up faster for that mess than this one.”
I’m punching ass and swirling around, trying to figure out where I should start. When, honestly, all I can think about doing is stomping out of here and tearing Ora’s mouth from her face.
I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t touch her. I’ll just fucking, uh… talk to Bunny. Yeah. That’s healthy. Talk to her. Treat her real nice and sweet.
“Raze!”
“What?!” I snap back to Cash shooting me with big ass eyes, just now registering the whole ass shin I’m carrying.
“Gloves!” he spits.
“I didn’t start with ‘em,” I shrug. “What’s it matter now?” Finishing with a mutter, I start stacking feast-able piles, hoping that it’s easier to bag up or… whatever the fuck we’re doing.
I don’t fucking know. Stop looking at me. I don’t even know how this started other than skipping in here like an idiot, expecting Bunny to show up at some point because she’s introverted as fuck, and moving into the nearest umbra when I saw Junior Fuck Nuts walking up in here all pigeon toed.
I was more intrigued. I remember that, feeling interested in what he’d be snooping around for and why he chose Bunny to investigate. But then he hopped up onto her stage. Stood under her light. And that’s when vexation obliterated logical thinking.
Oh, but then my little baby bunny had to come in moments after him, asking for something back, like they had been together. And that’s when my hand found the emergency axe I have hidden off to the side in case she ever gets stuck or needs to fuck someone up.
“Sorry, stargirl. Broke your axe in for you,” I mumble, kicking his left hand through the slop of blood toward the pile with his other hand.
“Jesus, fuck!” Cash shouts, his bloody hands stuck in loose claws on either side of his head, as if he’s fighting the urge of drifting into his panic pose. “How the hell we gonna get all this up? We need Bounty by the fuckin’ bulk!”
“Kitty litter,” I answer sedately, then toss an unknown body part over my shoulder.
It splats and thunks, landing somewhere in the goop. My attention is shifting to the cleaning cart rolling halfway in, the curtains parted just enough to see bottles of chemicals taking up the top tray.
“Poor baby bunny got sick, ma’am… Yeah, it’s such a shame. But don’t you worry. She’s in good hands… Uh-huh. Oh, yeah, Aries and Duse will knock your socks off.”
The hum of Xene’s voice filters through the crack, giving me the reassurance that his deflection is convincing enough to get back to my shit.
“Uh, yeah. Cat litter.” Checking back in with Cash, I use my sleeved arm to wipe my forehead. “It gets the oil and grease up in the garage. Can’t imagine this is much different.”