Page 7 of The Chaos She Brings
“Fuck!” He covers his eyes with his hand, holding my phone straight out in front of him. “I’m sorry!”
I snatch my phone from his grasp and hold the towel tightly to me so I don’t accidentally flash him some tit. Not for my benefit, mind you. I’d have no problem with him seeing my boobs. But he looks like that would be his thirteenth reason.
“I need to get changed.”
He runs from the room without a word and I exhale a long breath.
I throw on some dungarees then grab the first bag I can find, stuffing in clothes, toiletries, and, for some reason, a sexy lingerie set I probably won’t need.A girl can hope right?
Kai’s waiting by the door when I’m done, tapping his foot impatiently. “Let’s go,” he says when he sees me, already pulling open the door.
I follow, my heart racing, unsure whether this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done or the best decision I’ll ever make.
2
Your Friendly Neighbourhood Cleanup Crew
Kai to Carina: No, fuck off. [unsent]
Kai
It’sthesmellthatgets me first. Metallic, sharp, suffocating. Then the sticky warmth, the way it clings to everything. It’s impossible to forget, impossible to clean entirely, no matter how hard you scrub.
When I was fifteen my father finally snapped and killed my mother. He wasn’t a bad guy—he was just done with her abuse. I watched it happen. One minute, she’s holding a butcher’s knife, threatening him, and the next? That same knife isburied in her throat. We both stood there, frozen. But then, something unspoken passed between us. It was like a switch flipped. We went into cleanup mode.
There was so much blood, pooling underneath her lifeless body. Maybe that’s why I’m so good at what I do now. Cleaning up. Erasing the evidence. It’s like it never happened.
We buried her that night. By morning, he was gone. No note, no explanation, just… gone.
I’ve never told anyone the truth. Not Nate, not Carina. No one. Nate thinks my introduction to death came with his first kill, but he doesn’t know I’d already lived it—cleaned it, buried it, and carried the weight of it on my shoulders. Alone.
Now, everything in my life is about control. My house is pristine, every item in its place. My job is about making chaos disappear, scrubbing it from existence like it was never there. And computers? They became my sanctuary. They don’t lie, they don’t bleed, and they don’t leave. They gave me something I’d never had: power. Over information, over people, over myself.
I spent my whole life wondering what would happen next, when my mother would snap and hit me. Or worse. I need to know what my routine will be. I need things to fit into nice little boxes, because if I don’t it makes me feel like I’m still that scared little boy. The one begging his dad to help him.
He tried. I know he did. But it wasn’t enough.
If the police had listened to him—if they had bothered to do their fucking jobs when he called for help, time and time again—maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe she would be too. Or maybe she'd be behind bars. But they ignored him. They failed. And I watched her die because of it.
There’s no justice unless you go after it yourself.
I raised myself after all that. I didn’t tell anyone that my dad was missing, I was too ashamed. And I was scared that they'd find out what we’d done. So, I kept quiet. Got a job to cover the rent.
It took three years for anyone to notice that he wasn’t around. By that time, I was old enough to look after myself, so I just continued as normal.
The police were suspicious, of course, wondering where bothmy parents were.
Their investigation led to him being found dead of a drug overdose. A john doe case.
I’ve stuffed everything down, deep into the dark recesses of my mind. My control over my life keeps me from spiralling.
I don’t know what the fuck happened with Carina’s friend, why she so brutally murdered her boyfriend. And quite honestly, I don’t care. I just want to get this all sorted as quickly as possible so I can go back to normal. Or as normal as you can get as someone who cleans up crime scenes on the sly.
It’s not like me to help out someone other than Nate (and inadvertently Carina). I started helping her out when she was on her revenge vendetta against the men that had trafficked her. That’s how she met Nate. The two of them are like the world's softest psychopaths.
I couldn’t say no to her when she texted. I think she has her history on her side.How do you say no to someone who’s been through more shit than a public toilet at a music festival?I may not have liked her to begin with—she was different, and I don’t like different—but she slowly grew on me and now I can’t imagine Nate without her.
And so, here I am, breaking my routine to help out her newbie murderer friend. I’m assuming this is her first one anyway.
