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He’s sobbing and writhing on the ground. “You swear?You swear you’ll let me live if I—”
“It can’t hurt your chances, can it?”
He swallows, nodding as blood drips from his shattered mouth. “Okay! Okay! Thirty-six kids!” He starts to cry as he stares into the phone camera.
“Now, tell us your name, age, address, and your foster home’s license number.”
He lists it all, crying and begging for forgiveness. But he’ll find no forgiveness here tonight. Not from me.
When I have everything I need, I stop recording and put the phone away. I’ll find a program to edit out or mask my voice later, before I send this to every local and national news outlet I can.
Slowly, I turn and take my jacket off, draping it across the arm of Kevin’s couch.
“Y—you…you said you’d let me—”
“I did,” I nod, quietly taking a cigarette out of the silver case and lighting it. “Yes, I did say that.”
Then I turn and walk over to the console along the wall, where I’ve already laid out a few things from Kevin’s kitchen.
Mostly knives.
“Thirty-six…” I growl quietly. My skin fucking throbs with hate and violence.
My blood sizzles like molten death as I finger a few knives and then pick up the cleaver. I heft it meditatively in my hand, my back to Kevin.
“That’s a good number, Kevin.” I turn to glance at him over my shoulder, relishing the confused look in his face. “A really good fucking number.”
“I…I don’t—” His eyes land on the cleaver in my hand as I turn, twirling it in my fingers. “NO!” He screeches. “No! You promised!! You prom—!”
“Thirty-six is the number of pieces I’m going leave you in, Kevin.”
“No—”
“But don’t worry. I won’t let you miss any of the fun. I can guarantee you’ll still be alive until atleastnumber thirty.”
I could gag him. But the neighbors are far enough away, and I’m not too concerned. Also, I’m going to relish each and every one of the screams.
It’s just over two hours later when I finally walk out the back door, turning to toss the flickering matchbook in my hand back into the kitchen. The gas I’ve poured all over the house catches quickly, and I exhale slowly, lighting another smoke as I watch the thirty-six pieces of Kevin Halcott and his house of horrors explode into ash.
I frown, suddenly remembering one last thing. In my pocket, I pull out the bloody wad of tissues containing Kevin’s ring finger. Deftly, I pull off the stupid fake Super Bowl ring, drop it back into my pocket, and then chuck the finger into the flames.
Now, it’s the thirty-six pieces of Kevin.
I watch the raging inferno for a moment.
Then I’m gone.
* * *
It’sfirst light when I step back into our apartment. In our room, I watch Una sleep quietly and soundly, a small smile curling my lips.
What have you done to me, Una…
I leave the ring on her bedside table. After a quick shower, I slide into bed next to her, wrapping her in my arms. She stirs a little, twisting and sleepily opening her eyes to look at me.
“Hi, you.”
I lean in and kiss her softly.
