Page 41 of Pack Coffey

"Your brother's third victim," he replies like I should already know this. "Maybe we should be asking ourselves why we've never covered that particular story in our podcast. Possibly because of the shame that you feel having a murderer for a brother. Doesn't my sister deserve the same justice thatyou're giving other families?"

"But why are you killing people?" I ask him in my calm voice.

He snorts and looks at the huge knife in surprise. "Your brother was onto something, honestly. It's fun, and they don't put up much of a fight or reject you when they're dead."

The girl starts loud crying, and he kicks her again.

"Okay," I tell him, drawing the attention back to me. "Give me my phone, and I'll do it."

He holds it out to me, but snatches it back quickly. "No funny business or her blood is on your hands."

I nod, reaching for it again. It goes off right before he hands it to me, and he reads the text. "Tell your boyfriend that you felt sick and went home."

As he puts it in my hand, I unlock it, and do as he says. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I'm going to set it up on the table," I tell him, getting approval before I move.

Pulling out the chair, I prop the phone on the table and take a seat. Clicking on my video app, I start a live feed.

"Hey guys, so we're going to do something a little differently today, because I have a story to tell you that hits close to home. I'm here with my friend Mor---"

My words are cut off as he reaches into the frame, grabbing me by the neck and yanking me out of the chair. He pulls back and punches me right in the eye, making me see stars. The pain that blossoms is like nothing I've ever felt before. The force of it knocked me back to the floor.

He jumps on top of me and puts the knife against my cheek, letting it dig in a little. "Do not use my name."

I nod, making the knife cut my cheek even more. "Got it."

Backing off, he lets me stand. Careful not to let my voice waver, I retake the seat and start again. "Sorry guys. Technicaldifficulties. Fell off my chair."

Comments are flying by asking if I'm okay and what's going on. I'd love to give them some kind of sign to have them running for help, but a life isn't worth it. For the next thirty minutes, I go into every miniscule detail of my brother's case. Even using his name so that Morton knows that I'm serious about telling the story. The graphic details I share has the possibility to get me banned on the app, but I don't care at this point. I just want to keep me and the girl alive. As I come to the end of the story, I realize that I may have just fucked up because he's going to kill us both either way. I should've drug it out longer.

He's been pacing and not paying attention to the screen, so I pretend to sign off and lay my phone down. The whole time keeping the video going. I'm sure one of them is screen recording at this point.

Morton taps the side of his head with the knife as he stops pacing to glare at me. "I thought that would make me feel better. That it would stop these urges to kill things. They never started happening until she died. Why isn't it working?"

"I don't know," I tell him calmly. "We can get you help, Morton. Just like my brother."

His face contorts into fury as he starts to yell, spittle flying everywhere, "Do not talk to me about your brother! It's his fault! All of it is his fault! If they could guarantee me that I'd be thrown in there with him so I could give him a taste of his own medicine, I'd slit your throat right now and call the cops myself."

He seemingly calms down, turning to the girl. "I still am going to kill you, but I'm going to make you watch me kill her first."

The girl starts crying again loudly. He yells at her to shut up, and I use the noise to make my move. Jerking up, I race the two steps to him, jumping on his back. I've got the elementof surprise, but he's got the knife. He's stabbing backwards but only catching air. Getting the bright idea to stab my leg wrapped around him, he merely grazes me and stabs himself in the stomach.

Grunting in pain, he falls to one knee. Obviously not pulling the knife out himself, I reach down and do it for him. He screams in pain, bucking me off of him. I slam into the ground hard enough for it to knock the breath out of me, but I've now got the knife and he doesn't. When he charges me, slipping in his own blood, all I do is hold onto the hilt of the knife for dear life. He falls right onto it, stabbing himself right in the throat. He rolls off onto his back, reaching for it, but the pain must be too much. Either that or it's cut off his air, because all I can hear are wet gurgling noises. When they stop, his arms flop to the floor and he's left open staring at the ceiling.

Blood covers every part of my body, but I'm completely drenched on the top half.

I crawl over to where the girl lays to ask if she's okay but she flinches away from me like I killed him on purpose.

The fear in her eyes is enough to send me into an episode. I scoot until my back hits the wall and stare at the man that used to be Morton. I'm a murderer. Just like my parents always worried I would be. I killed him. His blood is on my hands. I stare at them, covered in the congealing red substance.

Sirens sound in the distance, slowly getting closer.

The door bursts off its hinges.

There's a cop with his gun drawn.

A person in white is bent over the girl, checking her.

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