Page 128 of The Cute Psycho

I tilt my head to the right and make a small motion to Seth. Opening the bag, he hands it to me to make my choice.

Pursing my lips, I browse the items, ultimately settling on a machete. As soon as I draw it out of the bag, I hear the gasps behind me, the men no doubt scrambling for their weapons.

Alas, their guns have been confiscated, so they likely only have some puny knives.

Turning toward them, I test the sharpness of the blade against my finger, blood pouring instantly.

Bringing it to my mouth, I smile as I lick the red liquid.

"So, gentlemen, where was I?" I beam at them, jumping on the table and carefully choosing the first target.

The man who'd spoken first is also the first one to fly for the door. Ah, of course the loudest are the loudest for a reason.

Two big steps and I jump right in front of him, swinging the machete to an angle, his head falling effortlessly to the ground.

"Damn, but it's sharp," I note just when someone tries to tackle me from behind.

I duck, his small knife hitting the air just as I roll on the floor, nabbing his knee. He falls down just as two more come toward me. Not wasting any time, I cut his head in one swift motion, turning around to deal with the newcomers.

A cut here, a cut there and two more heads are rolling on the floor. Adrenaline is rushing through my veins, my blood pumping hard as my pupils dilate at the sight of blood.

Oh, it's on.

The rest is a blur of movements, body parts and guts spilled on the floor, the entire room painted in red as blood flows freely.

The machete becomes an extended arm as I cut and wade through the dead bodies, enjoying the feel of the flesh giving in to my sharp blade.

When all the heads have fallen, I can't help myself as I start tearing the bodies apart, using the machete to cut them into tiny pieces.

Blood. More blood. So much blood until I'm drowning in it, laughter bubbling in my throat as my hands grab at the viscous liquid, draping it over my body like a sheet. I feel it coating my skin, flowing down my limbs until it's covering me like an armor.

From blood to blood.

Until it ends.

I don't know how much later I open my eyes, clarity returning to my gaze. I'm lying on my back on the table, my clothes shredded, blood everywhere. Moving around a little, I realize nothing hurts, so it's not my blood.

"Are you okay?" Seth's robotic voice asks from the corner.

He's relatively clean considering the mess around.

"Now, yes," I groan, getting up and taking in my work of art. "Did I damage any of the heads?" I ask, hoping at least those would be intact.

"No. I managed to collect them while you were busy," he replies with a straight face, pointing under the table where all ten heads are lined up in a row.

"Clean cut." I whistle, amazed at the skill I'd displayed.

Calling Maxim inside, I tell him to catalogue the heads and send them as gifts to their respective bosses.

With the invitations done, I only need to wait for my guests to come.

Ah, who said letting loose every now and then wasn't fun?

"Tell me more about your childhood," Dr. Reese prompts me and I'm almost tempted to roll my eyes at him. But I'd promised myself I'd make an effort.

"I thought I told you, doc. Bloody," I joke, "lots of blood."

He sighs, placing his notepad down.

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