Page 25 of Welcome to Carnage

“Impressed?” I ask, a half-cocked smile playing on my lips. I can’t help it. She’s shocked me and caught me off guard. Not many can do that. Not many have the courage.

“No,” she says, her breath hitching slightly. “Just surprised.”

Maybe she’s lying. Or maybe she’s just as fucked up as I am. Either way, I like it. She intrigues me, drawing me in like a magnet.

“Yeah?” I pull my motorcycle keys from my pocket, tossing them in the air and catching them. “Let’s see if I can keep surprising you.”

Her brow furrows. “W-What about the—”

“The body?”

She nods.

“I told you I never get caught. No one will tie this to me, little hellion.” I march toward her and grab her wrist. “Let’s go.” I drag her out of the back exit of the House of Mirrors, checking there’s no one around to witness us leaving.

“Where are we going?” she asks. “I’m supposed to meet Luna.”

I chuckle. “You won’t be seeing Luna again tonight.” I lead her to my motorcycle, pull off my mask, and put it in my jacket. And then, I lift the storage under my seat to grab the spare motorcycle helmet for Avina. “Put this on,” I demand.

She pulls it on without question, and I put mine on, too. And then I hop onto the bike, starting the engine and enjoying how it rumbles between my thighs.

“Get on,” I demand.

She hesitates, glancing back at the carnival briefly.

And then she swings one leg over the bike, settling behind me. I can feel the hesitation radiating off her, the uncertainty. But there’s a thrill there too. I can practically taste it. “Hold on tight,” I call over the engine’s sound.

I don’t wait for her to respond, already twisting the throttle and pulling us out onto the road. The night air is cool against my skin, the stars above a silent audience to our escape.

I can feel her hands tentatively wrap around my waist, a light touch that sends a shiver down my spine. I want more. I need more. I reach back, grabbing one of her hands and pressing it harder against my stomach. “I said, hold on tight.”

She clutches onto me, her body pressed against mine. The contact makes my blood run hotter.

I drive out of town deep into the forest, unable to stop thinking about my girl even when she’s here with me. I am picturing how her eyes light up with fear and excitement and how her breath hitches when I pull her close. It’s intoxicating. I’ve never felt this drawn to someone. It’s like a sickness, an obsession. And I fucking love it.

“Scared?” I ask, my voice barely audible over the roar of the engine. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. I can feel her heart pounding against my back, her breath quickening. It’s music to my ears.

“Where are we going?” she shouts.

“Somewhere special,” I say, the corners of my mouth tugging upwards into a wicked smile. A place nobody knows about but me. My sanctuary. My secret.

We cut through the pitch-black forest, the only light coming from the bike’s headlamp. The trees loom over us, silent watchers of our journey. I pull up to an old cabin, hidden from the world by dense growth and years of isolation. This place is mine. My silver bullet against the past, my haven. “We’re here,” I say, turning off the bike and allowing the heavy silence of the woods to surround us.

I slide off the bike, my boots crunching on the gravel, and help her down. Her eyes widen as she takes in the cabin, the fear evident. Yet, there’s a trace of curiosity there, too. “Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the cabin. The door creaks as I push it open, the years of neglect evident. “Welcome to my little slice of heaven.”

She steps inside, her gaze taking in the sparse furnishings, the dust, the memories lingering in the air. “It’s rustic,” she says.

I laugh, the sound echoing throughout the cabin. “That’s one way to put it,” I reply.

Her gaze lingers on an old photo on the mantle, a family frozen in time. “Who are they?” she asks, her voice laced with apprehension.

“That’s my family,” I respond, shrugging as I fumble with a pack of cigarettes. “Before everything went to shit.”

She swallows, turning to face me. “What happened?”

I exhale a plume of smoke, watching as it curls upwards. “A fire,” I say, the words hanging heavy in the air. “One I started.”

Her eyes widen. I can almost see the gears turning in her head, piecing it all together. “You killed them?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

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