Page 14 of Cut Deeper

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.

Chapter 8

Ethan

She didn’t crack. Not even close. She just seemed—bored. I scratched my head. No fear. No alliances. If anything, she seemed to enjoy tormenting the other two. I didn’t blame her. They were irritating without the gags.

“Oi, dickhead,” she shouted.“Just kill me already. I’m happy to go first if it gets me away from these two.”

“What are you doing?”

“Oh my god. Shut up. You’re going to get us all killed.”

“I’ll pay you good money to off me,” Anne continued, as if they hadn’t spoken.

I liked an animated Anne, not a dead one. There was no coming back from dead, and bodies stiffened up too quickly to be of much use. Necrophilia wasn’t for the weak.

It was time to pay them a visit. I left my phone on the coffee table and made my way to the basement. I changed into scrubs first—modifications were on the agenda today.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

“You hollered?” I asked, turning calmly to close the door behind me.