Bryan Smith - The Killing Kind

The girl at last relinquished her grip on Annalisa’s hair. The hot blade came away from her face as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. She looked pleased. “There. Now you’re not so pretty.”

She giggled.

Annalisa’s cheek throbbed and burned. It was near unbearable. She wished they would just kill her and be done with it, but she knew they were just getting started.

A crushing guilt assailed Chuck as he watched Missy go out to the balcony and return with another chair. This was all his fault. It was undeniable. This wouldn’t be happening if he hadn’t unleashed his inner asshole at the coffee shop that day. The truth was more complicated than that, another voice in his head argued. This was really all down to Emily. She had steered Missy Wallace here. And while that was true, it did nothing to lessen his guilt.

Missy set the chair in front of him and sat down.

She smiled. “Hello, Chuck.”

He glared at her, didn’t say anything.

She held out a hand and said, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Missy Wallace. I’m a famous murderer.” She glanced at her hand and lowered it, her smile becoming a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re hands are kind of tied at the moment.”

The comment elicited a giggle from the bald girl.

Missy leaned toward him. “So…Chuck. What happened to you, man? You look like someone used you for a punching bag.”

“They did.”

“When did this happen?”

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

She slapped him. “Tell me.”

The slap wasn’t a hard one, but he was still tender from the abuse Emily had dished out and it hurt like a bitch. “It happened in the early morning hours the day after…I insulted you. I…went off by myself. The others weren’t there. I drank all night in a bar across the street from the motel where we were staying. A place called Big Sam’s.”

“Where was this?”

“Little town just inside the North Carolina border. I was there after closing time. Some people who worked at the bar dragged me into a back room and beat the shit out of me. Guy named Joe Bob, he was the bartender, and a couple of his friends. I was too busy getting stomped to get their names.”

“What?” Zoe was looking up at him from the floor. “That’s not what you told us at all.”

“I know. This is the truth. What I told you was a lie.”

“But…why?”

Missy twisted around in her chair and glared at Zoe. “Shut up! You don’t have permission to speak. I hear your voice again, I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

She turned to face Chuck again. She flashed a smile of false sweetness. “So why did you lie to your friends, Chuck? Is it because you’re a fucking dirtbag not fit to lick the shit off a bum’s shoes?”

“They threatened me. I could’ve gone to the cops, but I was afraid of them.”

Missy laughed. “So you’re really a big fuckin’ pussy?”

“I was that night, yeah.”

Missy pursed her lips and looked away from him, staring at some vague middle point behind him. She was thinking seriously about something and that worried him. The situation was already awful and hopeless. But he didn’t kid himself. This girl was a monster, but she was also smart and creative. She could-and probably would-devise ways to deepen and prolong their misery.

She focused on him again. Her smile this time was smaller and more mischievous. “That girl on the floor is your girlfriend?”

Chuck’s eyes misted. “Yes. Don’t hurt her. Please.”

Missy’s expression turned serious. “What if I told you I’ll let her live if you help us torture and kill the rest of these fucks? Would you do that?”

“No.”

He heard Zoe sniffle and he frowned. Would she want him to do that? He didn’t believe the Zoe he knew would want her own life spared as part of some twisted bargain. But maybe he was wrong. You never really knew the ugliest truths residing in any person’s soul until you placed them in a situation like this.

Zoe’s sniffle gave way to a whimper. “Chuck…I don’t wanna die.”

Missy’s nostrils flared as anger lit up her face. She stood up and kicked the chair aside. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your fucking mouth shut?”

Zoe whimpered again.

It was barely audible over the moans of agony from Joe and Annalisa, but Chuck heard it and it tore at his heart.

Missy kicked Emily and sent her scurrying away across the floor. “Turn over, bitch.”

Zoe whimpered and didn’t move.

Missy kicked her.

Zoe cried out.

Missy kicked her again.

And again.

Zoe turned over with a great groan of exertion. Her whole face was wet from her tears. Missy took the hunting knife from the bald girl, then knelt and straddled Zoe. “This should be fun, if a little messy. I haven’t cut out a tongue in a while.”

She squeezed Zoe’s mouth open and lowered the blade to her face.

“I’ll do it.”

The words surprised him as they came out of his mouth. The bargain remained a loathsome, sickening thing, but with the prospect of Zoe’s mutilation and death right on the cusp of happening, it was suddenly much more palatable. And now he was seeing very clearly into the ugliest side of his own soul. Yes, he really could murder innocent people if it meant saving the life of the woman he loved. She wanted him to do it, after all.

She’d voiced the darkest wish imaginable.

And he was the only one who could grant it.

Missy let go of Zoe’s jaw and stood up. Her smile as she approached him had a hideous knowing quality to it. She moved behind him and started slicing through the layers of duct tape binding his wrists. The blade was still warm and moved through the tape with ease. “Julie, get the gun and keep it on him. You’re not gonna try to play hero are you, Chuck? Tell me you’re not that stupid.”

“I’m not. I’ll do whatever you say.”

She stood up and patted the top of his head. “Good boy.”

Chuck brought his newly freed hands around to his lap and began the process of peeling the tape away from his wrists, wincing as the adhesive pulled out hairs.

Emily was on her feet again and she looked pissed. “What the fuck is up with this?” She looked like a spoiled child on the edge of a serious tantrum. Chuck expected her to start stamping her feet any moment. “You can’t let her live. She knows I’m part of this and she’ll fucking talk. You have to kill her.”

Missy stepped back into view and approached Emily. “Really? That’s interesting. Because I’m pretty sure I don’t have to do anything I don’t fucking wanna do.”

Chuck saw it coming before it happened, but he guessed Emily never did. It was part of her bottomless arrogance. She saw herself as a real, integral part of Missy’s little gang, but she was dead wrong.

Missy stabbed her in the stomach.

Then yanked the blade out and stuck it in again.

Emily gasped and her eyes widened in disbelief. She staggered backward and clasped her hands over stomach, blood jetting between her fingers and staining the front of her black dress. Missy stalked her as she continued to stumble backward, moving slowly, in no hurry at all to finish the job. Zoe sat up and watched. They were all watching. The bald girl, Julie, had turned away from him and was tracking their progress toward the kitchen.

“Yo, Missy.”

“Yeah?”

“That burner’s still on.”

Missy laughed. “Cool.”

Missy caught up to Emily, seized her by an arm, and dragged her into the kitchen. Chuck craned his head and caught a glimpse of the red-hot burner coil. His stomach twisted in anticipation of what was coming. Missy pushed the wounded girl up against the stove, turned her around, and took one of her hands by the wrist, guiding it toward the burner. Emily struggled, tried to twist her hand away even as blood from her wounds fell and patted on the kitchen tiles. Missy poked the tip of the knife into her side, making Emily scream and lose focus on the struggle with her hand. Missy seized the opportunity and pressed her hand to the burner.