Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

She smiled and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Little impatient, are we?”

He squeezed her ass cheek. “Yeah. What are you doing up there?”

“You needed a rubber, remember?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. Right. I forgot. Hurry. Please.”

“Okay, baby. Here I come.”

She waited one beat longer.

This is it, she thought. No going back from here.

What surprised her most in that moment was her total lack of hesitation. I want this. Holy shit, I really do.

Keeping her back to him, she began to slither back into the rear of the car. She heard him groan in anticipation. Then she snarled and whipped around, jabbing the big blade at his throat. Instinct made him flinch to the side, his quick reaction time surprising her. But he wasn’t quite fast enough. The serrated edge of the blade cut through his T-shirt and glanced off his collarbone, etching a deep, bloody groove in his flesh. He screamed and scooted away from her as she reared the knife back for another strike. He held his hands up and the blade jabbed into a palm, triggering another gusher of blood as it cut through muscle and hit bone. She yanked the blade out and pulled it back again. Blood leaped from the wound and struck her face. She felt some of it enter her mouth and realized she was grinning. It made her giggle, knowing how crazy she must look to him right now. He was pissing his pants, the little baby. He cried out and turned away from her, grasping for the door handle. His bloody hand curled around it and yanked, but the door stayed shut. Zeb had enabled the childproof locks on the back doors.

“You’re trapped, motherfucker.”

He looked at her and put his back against the door. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why not?”

She plunged the knife into his thigh, aiming for where she thought the femoral artery would be. He screamed and kicked out at her with his uninjured leg. The counterattack caught her off guard. His booted foot hit her stomach and drove her backward. She hit the door behind her and cried out. She stared at the man, panic blooming inside her. She didn’t have the knife anymore. It was still buried in his thigh. He reached for it in the same instant she propelled herself away from the door in a screaming leap. She was faster. She drove the blade deeper into his leg, giving it a savage sideways twist. He screamed and bucked against the door on his side. Julie yanked the knife out of his leg and stuck it in his throat.

A jugular bull’s-eye.

She pulled the blade out, releasing the biggest geyser of gore yet. She felt its warmth splash her chest and laughed. She leaned over him, got close as she could to his face, and taunted him in a singsong voice. “You’re gonna die-eye, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He was still breathing, but his eyes were starting to glaze over.

Zeb opened the front driver-side door and leaned in to check out the carnage.

Julie beamed at him. “So what do you think? Did I do good? Did I pass Lulu’s fucking test?”

Zeb smiled. “You did good.”

“Yay. You know what?”

“What?”

“I want to do it again. Tonight.”

Zeb just stared at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’m a mess. I’m covered in fucking blood. But I’m not gonna be picky this time. We don’t have to do it the same way. Let’s just grab somebody. Anybody. A woman, if you want. I don’t give a shit. Let’s just do it. Okay?”

“You need to calm down.”

“DON’T FUCKING TELL ME TO FUCKING CALM DOWN!” Julie took a deep breath and summoned a smile. “I want to kill somebody. Please?”

Zeb looked wary, but he nodded. “Okay.”

He disengaged the childproof locks, pulled the body out of the car, and dragged it over to a Dumpster. Julie climbed up front and settled herself in the shotgun seat in time to watch Zeb heft the body and drop it in the container. Christ, but he was a strong bastard. He came back to the car, fired up the engine, and began to drive away from the warehouse.

Julie started laughing, was unable to stop for more than a minute.

Zeb glanced at her, frowning. “What?”

Her smile was playful. “Oh, nothing. Well…I was just thinking…wouldn’t it be a kick if I turned out to be even more fucked-up than you?”

She laughed some more.

Zeb stayed glumly silent and stared at the road ahead.

Diary of a Mixed-up Girl blog entry, dated March 14

Stayed up way late thinking about it again. That thing I’d like to do. What it would be like. I think it would be sort of like turning out the lights when you leave a room, except you could never turn them back on again. Unless you had super God-like powers or something. But there is no God and no magic. So…yeah. It’s so trippy to think about. When someone decides to do this thing, that’s real power.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have the guts to do it. I’d sure like to, though. I know I don’t want the life my parents want for me. They want me to go to college, but I think what they hope happens in the end is I marry some upwardly mobile dude and raise a pack of brats in the suburbs. If it was good enough for Mommy dearest, then it’s good enough for me, right?

They’ve got some disappointment coming their way, I can tell you that. MORE disappointment, I mean. LOL. Ha.

They think all my “troubles” are part of a normal rebellion phase.

They have no idea. NONE.

I hope to truly horrify them someday. To SHATTER them.

And I will. I promise.

I saw this squirrel in the road today. It’d been hit by a car or something, but it was still barely alive. The sound its skull made when I crushed it was awesome.

6 comments

lord_ruthven: Wtf? Awesome? Bullshit. I bet you were bawling your eyes out (if it even happened).

Mixedupgirl: No bullshit. I have pictures. I just mailed one to you.

lord_ruthven: I just saw it. I don’t know what to say. You’re one sick bitch.

Mixedupgirl: LOL. Yeah.

lord_ruthven: You make me so sad sometimes.

Mixedupgirl: Get over it. I’ll probably never fuck you again.

March 24

Sean Hewitt picked up the heavy duffel bag and set it on the edge of the bed. He glanced out the big window above the bed and saw a maze of beach houses and narrow roads with sandy shoulders. The room he and Annalisa had taken overlooked the driveway and swimming pool out front. It would have been nice to have a room with a view of the beach and the ocean, but he wasn’t about to complain. It’d been damn generous of Chuck’s dad to foot the bill for everybody. The main thing was just being here. There had been some unpleasant delays. That whole weird thing with Chuck and whatever had happened to him. The even weirder tension between Zoe and her supposed best friend, Emily. But they were here now, with nearly a full week of sun and fun ahead of them.

He unzipped the bag and began to sort through its contents in search of the new swim trunks he’d purchased for the trip. Everyone else was down at the beach already and he was anxious to join them.

“There you are.”

Sean turned around. “Uh…hi.”

Emily Sinclair stood just inside the door to the room. She was wearing black pumps and a tiny white bikini. She looked sensational. The white fabric against her already pale flesh created an interesting effect. From a distance she would look naked. Hell, this close it almost looked that way. Her red lips curved into a smile beneath the dark sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Hey, Sean. I’m glad you’re here.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh…yeah. I thought you were down at the beach.”

She was still smiling. “I was. But remembered something I needed to do.”