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Madam Vik is wearing a satin robe, and through the steam of the shower, I see she has pulled a phone out from the pocket and is scrolling through it.
I need that phone.
I search the shower cubicle for something I can use as a weapon. There are only the small shampoo and conditioner bottles, neither of which looks remotely weaponizing. Not in a deadly way, though a thought crosses my mind, and I eye the shampoo bottle again. That shit stings when it gets in your eyes.
The sinister smirk that widens my lips should scare me, but I embrace that shit. Sure, it could backfire, but I’m not willing to cower for the what if. Fuck that and fuck them.
Marcus and Shaun’s words come back to me.
Our Vicious Kitten
I want to be her, now. Vicious. Animalistic. A fucking shock to the sickos under the roof of this toxic house.
The image of me and Garrett pops into my head. Blood smeared on our faces, making us look like vampires, or wild warriors who just fought a battle. We looked vicious, and I felt vicious, so I channel that feeling, letting the fury seep into my veins and sweep over my body.
I amViciousKitten. Hear meroar!
While Vik is distracted by her phone, I pour shampoo all over my hands before using my elbow to flip the water off. Even as I step out of the shower, Vik is foolish enough to assume she is safe. Her eyes still cast down at her phone screen.
I take another step forward, which gains her attention, and the moment her head starts to rise, I lunge for her with my arms outstretched. She flinches back when she realises, but it’s not enough to get away from me, and a moment later, my shampoo slimy fingers press into her eyes.
Her lips part as a yell travels up her throat, and out of nowhere, I react, retracting my hands and giving her a right hook in her throat. Her eyes widen at the impact before her face contorts into grimacing pain. I’m not sure if it’s from my punch or the sting of soap in her eyes, but she’s not able to make much sound, so I call that a win.
Her hands grab at her throat and then move to her eyes, and I notice her phone is now lying face down on the cream-tiled floor. I need to do something before she regains some control. If she alerts the others, I’m truly fucked.
The satin sash holding her robe together has come loose, so I quickly grab it, pulling it free. Maybe I can tie her up somehow. Keep her out of the way so she can’t raise the alarm that I’ve gotten away.
I move to grab her hand, but my lack of planning ahead has cost me time, and Vik regains some of her control, her hand darting out to wrap around my throat. I gasp, surprised, and manage to shove her back, but it’s fleeting because she lunges at me with her whole body, crashing us into the shower stall. I slip, falling hard, Vik tumbling down with me as she lashes her claw-like nails at my face. I’ve fallen in an awkward position, my neck pushed forward in the corner, while my back is screaming from the metal door frame cutting into my skin.
Lashing out with my hands, I try to fend her off, realising the satin sash is still in my hand, so I channel every action movie I’ve seen and start trying to loop the sash around her neck. Each time I try to get the sash over her head, she’s able to slap my hand away, and I know my attempt is useless. Fury washes over me as the thought of her winning this fight creeps in.
I can’t let her win. I need to get away.
I hiss in her face, baring my teeth and something takes over me. All of a sudden, my fisted hands have a mind of their own, my body igniting with a fire I didn’t know it was capable of, and I fight. With punches blowing, nails clawing, legs thrashing, I somehow get the upper hand, rolling us enough, so I have room to slip out from under her. While she tries to turn over to see me, her hands slipping from the soap covering them, I drag the hand-held showerhead from its holders and hook the chrome hose over Vik’s head and around her neck.
Her whimper is the only thing I hear before I pull tight, dragging her neck backwards as the hose cuts off her airway. My weight sitting on her back restricts her ability to move, and I tug back harder, choking the life from her.
It takes longer than I thought. The movies certainly speed up the whole strangled-to-death process because she’s still fucking breathing after thirty seconds. It feels like minutes pass, her body thrashing under mine as I do the unthinkable. It’s not until I shift on her back, using my knee to press her hard against the tiled shower floor, that I get the right momentum to yank back hard enough to seal Madam Vik’s fate. And my own.
She is now dead.
And I am now a murderer.
Shit. The overwhelming urge to cry slams into me, a couple of hot tears escaping before I slap them off my burning cheeks.
Slowly, I back up out of the cubicle, my eyes trained on Vik’s lifeless body in an awkward heap.
I killed someone.
I should be happy, right? This bitch deserves death. They all do. So why do I feel so fucking bad?
The vibrating buzz of a phone snaps my head in the direction of where Vik’s phone lays face down on the tiled floor.
Get your head in the game, Rhys!
I dart over to it but struggle to pick it up properly with my slimy hands, so I wash them quickly in the sink before picking up the phone.
Terry
