AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Perhaps I did underestimate her. I was under the impression that we would come out victorious because there were more of us. However, this woman isn’t just nuts. She’s batshit crazy. Downright insane. Belongs in the fucking loony bin.
When she’s finished listing her extensive choice of torture options, she looks at me expectantly. “Let’s stick with the knife,” I choke out, struggling to keep up my relaxed charade.
Swallowing around the ball in my throat, I open my mouth, intent on keeping her distracted with questions. Except the squeaking of a stair reaches my ears a split second before Emilia’s sweet voice calls out, “Hawk?”
Mel’s entire face lights up with a sick gleam, and she slides off the kitchen table, brandishing both weapons. “Oh, goodie!” she whispers excitedly, like we’re best friends. She moves to stand beside me, the knife back at my throat and the gun pointed at the doorway. “Now the games can begin.”
What fucking games?
My heart pounds in time with the tap of Emilia’s shoes as she descends the stairs, calling out my name again when I don’t answer. When I hear her reach the bottom of the stairs, I scream, “Run, Emilia. Mel is here!” uncaring of my well-being as the tip of the blade embeds under my skin.
“You fucking asshole!” Mel spins on me with a furious glare, the blade vibrating in her hand and sending more blood coursing down my neck. Even though this might be the moment my life ends, I tilt my chin and meet Mel’s eyes, showing her just how much of an asshole I truly am.
Only when a shadow fills the doorway, do I rip my gaze away, my face crumpling when I spot Emilia standing there.
“Why didn’t you fucking listen to me?!” I yell at her.Jesus Christ, if we somehow make it out of this alive, I’m going to murder her myself.
Ignoring me, she stands straight, showing no fear as she faces Mel. Returning to my side, Mel’s knife returns to my throat. “Come join us, Emilia,” she says in a sickly sweet voice, waiting as Emilia cautiously moves further into the room.
“Take off your shoe.” Emilia hesitates for only a second, her gaze bouncing to mine before returning to Mel, doing as instructed.
“Good, now bring it here. Be a good girl, or your little boy toy here will get a pretty little bullet in his skull.”
With wide, nervous eyes, Emilia slowly approaches with her shoe—a baby pink ballet—in hand. When she’s close enough, Mel gestures for her to hold out her arm, and stabbing one of her fingers into the stab wound on my shoulder, she smears blood across it.
Emilia and I watch on, confused but not daring to speak or ask questions. Still pointing the gun at Emilia, she uses her other hand to drag her knife across the front of my chest, deepening the wound she already inflicted.
I grunt against the pain, Emilia gasping as blood puddles along the surface before spilling over.
“Come closer,” Mel barks, setting the knife aside. Grasping Emilia’s free hand, she tugs her forward until she can press Emilia’s palm flat over the cut, coating it in blood. “Now, go leave your shoe in the hall and your handprint on the wall. Mr. Savior Complex will have a field day when he walks in and finds them.” She’s grinning so brightly.I guess these are the games she mentioned.
“W-what?” Emilia stutters, staring at Mel in shock. “N-no. No way. It’ll traumatize him.”
Mel just stares at Emilia like she’s being stupid. “Duh. That’s the whole point. Get him all worked up, but don’t worry, it won’t be as traumatic as finding your dead body will be.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “The only thing I can’t decide is whether to hang around and watch, then put him out of his misery, or tail him from the shadows until he finds the courage to do the job for me.”
Emilia can only gape at her former best friend turned nightmare of insane proportion.
Mel snaps out of her reverie and fixes her gaze on Emilia. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go!”
Emilia’s wide eyes flick to mine before she reluctantly obeys, woodenly heading toward the door. I silently scream at her to fucking run this time, realizing already she won’t. Despite the fact that staying means we’ll probably both die tonight, I know she won’t abandon me. Just like I wouldn’t abandon her. Our love might get us both killed, but at least we’ll die together.
“Take a seat, Emilia,” Mel tells her when she re-enters the kitchen. “We’re going to play a game.”
“What game?” Emilia asks, lowering herself into a kitchen chair Mel has strategically set opposite mine.
“The Newlywed Game,” Mel answers, like it should be obvious.
What the fuck is the Newlywed Game?
Emilia looks equally baffled.
“I’m going to prove that you made the wrong choice. I know you better than they ever will. He,”—she pokes me with the pointy end of her blade for emphasis—“only wants to control you. He’ll never love you the way I do.”
Clapping her hands together, she steps between us. “Okay, rules of the game. I will ask a question, and you both have to answer for the other person. If your answers are correct, we move on to the next one, and if they’re wrong…”She pauses for dramatic effect. “Then I get to play with one of my toys.”
Emilia looks confused, even as nausea churns in my stomach at that notion.
“Let’s start with a simple question,” she continues, oblivious to my discomfort as she taps thoughtfully on her lip. “Favorite genre of movie.”
