Page 8 of Strangled
“Your half-ass paint job is pretty much nonexistent,” she remarks with a wave of her hand in my general direction.
“Yeah, probably. I’m getting ready now.” I grip the wobbly handrail.
“Good, ‘cause Sebastian just texted me and told me they’re all on their way, so we need to get this shit started.”
“On it, boss.” I salute her, and she rolls her eyes as she skips down the broken steps. “Don’t fall and break your face!” I shout as I disappear into the bathroom and slam the door behind me.
I rest my hands on the sink and avoid my bloodshot gaze in the mirror as I brush my teeth before I strip off my clothes and step into the shower. I let the cool water hammer over my face as I rub the paint off.
The water pressure sucks, as does the temperature, but right now, I’ll take what I can get. When I bought this place, I was surprised when the city told me it was never shut off. Apparently, since it’s a few miles outside of town, it has its own water supply, so they never had any control over it.
I’m not complaining. It was one less hassle, though I never experienced much trouble trying to buy this place, despite the baggage it came with. Everyone I spoke to in regard to purchasing looked at me like I had seven heads and a tail, but I simply shook off their surprise.
Superstitious people annoy me. It’s just a fucking house.
The pipes groan loudly, and the water splutters before shutting off completely. My eyes blink open in surprise, a chill settling over my wet skin. I twist the knobs back and forth. Nothing comes out but a slow and steady drip.
I huff a sigh, air vibrating my lips as I breathe out heavily. “Well, that’s fuckin’ great.” I pull the curtain back and step out of the clawfoot tub. Wrapping a towel around me, I step up to the small, round sink and grip the sides as I lean in, this time examining the burst blood vessels in the whites of my eyes.
Stepping back, I dig through all the shit Cade left in here. Finding what I need, I start painting my face in a cliché ass skull, starting with a black base, then moving on to white.
I’m in a trance as I paint the details onto my skin—the jagged edges of teeth, the sharp outline of my nose, the white sockets of my eyes. I lean in closer to fix the line on my cheek when the water starts spurting out of the pipes again. I jump at the unexpected sound and whirl on my heels, almost slipping on the slick floor.
I lean over to shut the water off when it stops on its own again, returning to a steadydrip, drip, drip;the sound echoes through my labored breathing. I grip the knobs and turn them in the off direction before hurriedly tugging my clothes back on, battling the feeling of exposure.
The door handle doesn’t budge when I twist it. I double-check the metal lock at the top of the handle placement, finding it in its unlocked position. My brows tug together as I try to jiggle it, but it still doesn’t move. Usually, when a door is locked, there is still some give to the handle, but there’s fuckingnothing.
Adding my other hand to my grip on the knob, which has slickened with the sweat from my palm, I yank back and forth as hard as I can, rattling the heavy door in its frame. The jarring sound rings out around me, intermixing with my forced pants. Panic steadily creeps in the harder I pull, desperation clawing at my nerves to get the fuck out of here.
I’m trapped.
Why the fuck won’t this door budge?
It’s not until the door flies open, and I crash to the floor that reality floods back in. Pin needles shoot up my arms from the forceful impact, and I grimace.
Cade and Iris stare down at me with slightly gaping mouths and wide eyes. My nose whistles with the rush of air flowing in and out of my nose. I scramble to my feet and rub my hand back and forth over my bent head, avoiding eye contact.
“You okay?” Cade asks, their words dipping lower with concern.
“Yeah,” I chuckle, the sound dry and fake even to my own ears. “The door was stuck.”
“We heard something banging around up here so we came up. The door opened just fine for us,” Iris says, her brows pinched.
“Maybe it was just jammed from my side or some shit. I don’t know.” I laugh it off and stand, ignoring the way my legs shake as I brush past Cadence and Iris. “Let’s go.”
As I round the corner and take the final set of stairs, my eyes take in the changes they made. All of the lights in the house have been turned off and replaced with orange LED strips which seem to be stuck haphazardly to the dirty walls and wrap around the borders of the crumbling ceilings. There are even some running across the edges of the floor, illuminating pathways to each room.
Cade and Iris pass by me as my eyes flit around, absorbing the ambiance of the room—dark and definitely giving off the perfect vibes for a fuckin’ Halloween party. It’s then that I notice the LED strips weren’t placed randomly. I shuffle a couple steps backward, toward the edge of the room, and take in the bigger picture.
The lights form the wordsMurder House,each word taking up an entire wall near Iris’s setup.
“This looks pretty sick.” I nod at Cade and Iris, coming up right beside them. “Spelling that on the wall is going to make everyone go crazy.” Iris is behind the table now, already playing some song I don’t know, but the vibe is right. Cade lifts their drink with an arched brow, and I shake my head and lift the half-smoked joint from earlier that I snagged off the table.
Cade rolls their eyes as I light up. I take a few long hits before passing it to Iris. I need something to settle the trepidation lingering.
We pass it between us until even the roach is pretty much nonexistent. I’m feeling pleasantly neutral, the buzz settling my core, when the front door rattles with outrageous knocking—or more like pounding—and I jump out of my skin, my heart flying against my ribs.
I inhale sharply, my eyes widening before Iris shoulders me, snapping me out of my obvious overreaction. Our eyes meet. “Sebastian,” Iris and I mumble simultaneously before bursting into a fit of laughter at our synchronization.
