Page 121 of Twisted Heathens

Well done. Didn’t that feel good? The power?

You can hurt whoever you want.

Take their lives and dance in their blood.

You know you want to.

I stroll to the bedroom, smashing endless framed photographs along the way. Then I stare at my horrifying reflection in the mirror. A new version of myself exists now, someone beyond redemption and irrevocably lost to the world. Shadows wrap around my ankles, voices whispering their applause in my mind. Blood coats my uniform and skin, and I rub circles in the sticky liquid with fascination.

So beautiful. Vic had to die. Just like me. I raise the blade to my arm and hold it in position, ready to rip a hole in my artery.

No, Brooklyn.

You have to run, not die. Sort the body.

There’s plenty more people out there who deserve to die. Find them.

Shaking my head, I argue with the voices and defend my case. Death is the only option, I’m too far gone to continue. But ultimately the shadows control me, and I leave bloody footprints all the way back to Vic’s cooling corpse. He’s too large and heavy for just me to move. I’ll have to get creative. Can’t disappoint, I’ve been given a task. It must be completed.

Got to finish the job.

A handsaw ought to do the trick.

Thirty-Nine

Hudson

The Jester by Badflower

“You’re going to tell me exactly what happened here or I will slowly and painfully break every single fucking bone in your body,” I utter menacingly.

Phoenix shushes me and drags me to the corner, further away from the fitfully sleeping girl in his bed. “Keep it down, will you? The longer she’s out, the better.”

He runs an anxious hand through his hair, eyes straying back over to her. I follow his gaze, pain blooming in my chest at the devastating sight. She’s tightly wrapped in sheets, moaning in her sleep. Bright white bandages peek out, revealing the extent of our current predicament.

“I crushed a load of Valium into her water. She needed it,” Phoenix informs me.

“You spiked her drink with your medication? Dude, what the fuck?”

He glares at me indignantly. “Would you rather she tries it again? If I hadn’t walked in and stitched her up earlier, she would have died. Bled out and fucking died.”

My mouth turns to ash, the bitter taste on my tongue refusing to be swallowed. It feels like a snake has wrapped itself around my insides and is squeezing tight, removing all available air. Died. She would have left me again, this time for good. The thought fucking destroys me.

“We can’t turn her in. They’ll throw her in the hole for her own protection.”

“Or ship her back to where she came from,” I say grimly. “If they deem her too unstable for Blackwood’s programme.”

“Goddammit!” Phoenix curses. “What the hell do we do then?”

“We deal with this ourselves! We have no choice!”

“We can’t. She needs medical attention.”

He stares at me, shaking his head like I’m the one that’s unstable. I fight the urge to yell at him some more and watch as he walks to the bed and sits down, hand ghosting over Brooklyn’s exposed shoulder.

“Tell me honestly, right now, how you feel about her.”

“Huh?” I frown at him.

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