Page 85 of We The Depraved
“Are you sure?”
She nods, and very quietly lifts a finger to her lips. With ease she tiptoes out of the bathroom and comes back with a knife.
I nearly flinched at the mention of her child, and nearly do so again at the sight of the knife. Calmly, she cuts my hands loose.
“This was all his idea,” Carla shakes her head, and helps me up out of the tub.
She undoes my feet as well.
“Where’s the gun?” I ask.
“Are you going to shoot him?”
For the first time, I take in my reflection in the dirty cracked mirror. My dark skin is sporting a bruise and my lip looks puffy as hell. Bracing myself on the sink, a brown cockroach skitters by. I don’t even jump at the sight of it.
“If I need too,” I say.
“There’s one in the living room, we can take it with us.”
Carla still holds the knife and our eyes meet in the mirror. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
She puts the knife down, right next to my hand, ever so trustingly. Carla had been someone I cared about deeply at one point.
There were two types of women in Texas. Bitches who made it hard for everyone else and bitches like me who didn’t do a lot of forgiving.
“It’s okay, baby,” I turn to her and take her in.
The silk robe is hanging open. The tops of her breast look so inviting and her hair is wild from all the fucking she just did.
My hands go to either side of her face. I lean in, and instantly it becomes seductive and mesmerizing.
“Do you think God forgives all our sins?” I ask her with a smile.
“Yes, baby. I do.”
I pull her in closely, my lips hovering above hers. Carla was naive as a lost lamb, always had been.
“Good…because I fucking don’t.”
The knife rips through her throat quickly. I feel so warm from the blood spraying across my face. Briefly, I close my eyes as it coats my skin.
I relish in it.
Carla’s hands go to her neck, and the only sounds that she can make are gurgling noises. Her body is caught before it makes to loud of a noise. I watch the light go out in her eyes.
I feel nothing.
She was going to let me be murdered for money after all.
I step over her dead body and out into the hallway. My fingers run along the dirty walls leaving fingerprints.
The gun is laying out on the coffee table. There are lines of coke, and syringes full of God knows what laying right beside. There is no remorse in me for what I’m about to do. Picking the gun up, I study it and pull the slide back.
Grabbing a ratty looking throw pillow from the couch, I walk into the bedroom. Mateo’s is snoring like a freight train.
“Her pussy would give off that effect, you stupid motherfucker…”
I pull the slide on the gun and hold the pillow up, cautiously walking over to him. He wouldn’t have heard this coming no matter what.
