Page 111 of Killing Me Softly

Mable’s lips parted. And she blinked, as if a door had slammed shut inside her. But her fingers clenched, and she laughed, a hollow, brittle sound ringing through the warehouse like breaking glass.

“Oh, Dr Lyons.” Her grin returned, sharp and wicked. “You think you’re trying to save me again, don’t you? Like you did back then. Well, let me tell you something. You didn’t save me.Just like you didn’t save him. He loved the quiet life he had before you dragged him into your twisted obsession. Before you decided to dissect him like a rat in your little academic maze.”

A sharp breath. A twitch.

“And guess what? Ilovedmy life, too. I loved the silence. The devotion. The rituals. The legacy. But you—you came in with your theories and therapy and love stories, trying to rewrite it all like we’re not who we are. Mummy says that’s the real sickness. Thinking you can change a monster into something soft. Thinking love means anything when it’s always going to end in pain.”

Kenny didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Mable filled the quiet. And Aaron could hear sirens floating in the distance. That’s what Kenny had ben trying to do…keep Mable talking so they could be rescued.

“She told me the truth, you know. Roisin. She told me what I am. Not what society wants me to be. Not what therapists scribble in notebooks. She gave me a name, a shape, a purpose. And I—” her voice cracked with something sharp and reverent, “—Iwillmake her proud.”

Kenny’s jaw tensed, but his voice didn’t break. “No, you won’t. Because she’s not proud. She’s using you.”

Her eyes flared.

“She gave you a mask, not a purpose. And you’re terrified to take it off. Because if you do…” He tilted his head, gaze unwavering. “You’re afraid there’ll be nothing underneath. Just silence. You. And youdon’t knowwho you are.”

Mable snapped.

In a single, violent motion, she slashed the knife across Kenny’s chest, deep enough to make his body jerk, deep enough for the blood to pour, deep enough so Aaron screamed through his gag. The blade sank into flesh, carving a brutal line from collarbone to ribs, splitting skin like wet paper. Bloodgushed, seeping in thick rivulets, cascading down his stomach in glistening crimson and Kenny jerked, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat.

“Yes, I fuckingdo!” Mable screamed into his ear.

Aaron convulsed so violently his chair rocked, lifted, nearly tipped. His wrists burned against the restraints, throat raw from the muffled, agonising roar. Mable took a step back, admiring her handiwork, and she lifted her bloodstained blade to her lips and licked it clean, dragging her tongue over the metal.

Aaron had never wanted to fuckingkillsomeone more in his entire life.

Rage erupted inside him, primal and vicious, burning through his veins like wildfire. Yes, he was a monster, too. He hadneverdenied it. But if he was going to be a monster, let it benow.

Mable sauntered toward him, eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. “While you watch him bleed out for you, I’m going to rip your broken heart out so I can put it in a nice pink box, cover it in roses and send it to Mummy.”

Aaron screamed, thrashing in the chair, face burning red with fury, veins throbbing as he lunged forward, restraints biting into his flesh. He needed to break free. Needed to get his hands on her, to tear her apart, to—

Mable grinned. “There he is.” She lifted the knife, the cold edge threatening his chest. “There’s the psycho.”

Aaron panted, gritting his teeth so hard they might crack.

Mable raised the knife, poised for the strike.

Then—

A blur. A shadow. A fucking war cry.

Something collided with Mable, hard. The impact sending her flying, knife skidding across the concrete with a sharp clatter and Aaron barely had time to register what was happeningbefore Mel—half-limping, half-feral—slammed on top of Mable, a blade of her own clutched in trembling hands.

Mable’s shriek split the air, limbs flailing, but Mel was already there, teeth bared, eyes wild. Primal.

“Youfucking—” Mel drove the blade down.

A sickening thud.

Mable screamed, the sound sharp, high-pitched, wrong.

Mel didn’t stop.

She stabbed again. This time lower. Deeper. Her injured leg dragged uselessly behind her, but she didn’t give a shit, and Aaron widened his eyes as Mable twisted, trying to shove Mel off, but Mel snapped. Clawing at Mable’s throat, shaking as she ripped the knife free and plunged it again.

And again.

---