CHAPTER 21
Jesus, Trent was not joking about Duke’s state. I had just poured my newly found companion a bowl of milk, I realized he was going to stay when he gave me one of his ‘I’m an animal, you shall love me and feed me’ speeches. I walked across the living room when I heard the sound of tires getting in a hissy fit with the concrete mulch of my driveway.
I was about to stop on the porch when I saw Trent getting out of the driver’s seat. I puckered my eyebrows on the view. How much had Duke poured in himself? Just by judging on how he got out of the car, I would say an awful lot and in an awful tiny amount of time. Maddox was pulling him out of the passenger seat, but obviously Duke was not very keen on the thought.
"Get off…" He slurred out, holding on to a bottle of some sort of alcoholic beverage like there was no tomorrow. Well maybe there wasn’t going to be, I hadn’t seen enough to decide if it was the wisest decision to keep him here. On a free leash. Alive. Maddox held him so he wouldn’t fall to the ground, "I said… get the fuck off!" He broke free of Madd’s clasps and nearly landed on his face, in the last second regaining his calm and taking a large sip of the brownish drink. My eyes went wide in disbelief. I knew this was going to be hard, but I didn’t think Duke would send his friends straight to hell without asking for explanations.
"And what do you think I’m going to do with him when he’s like this?" I ran down the small staircase and towards Trent, who was rubbing his temple eagerly. Rough day, huh? Well, I was about to receive a full dose of madness, while he was going to drive back to the civilization and leave me with this hell hound.
"Fuck me, I hope." Duke leaned against the black car and crossed his arms upon his chest.
"Anything really. Choice's yours." Trent spoke calmly. How could he? The blood in my veins was boiling above the temperature of hundred degrees after Celsius, but he was goddamn relaxed. That just wasn’t right. But then I realized something, those white knuckles of his hand gave him away immediately. He was holding on to his keys just to keep himself calm. I was surprised how he managed to keep himself under control and avoid taking any sharp objects and stabbing Duke a couple of times.
"Sorry, shorty, we can’t stay and chat… Have a job to do… and so do you." Madd said already getting in the car. Fine, just leave me here to war with him ‘cause I don’t have anything better to do anyway.
"Call me if he bails…" Trent opened the door and I looked at Duke. He didn’t seem in the right position to take the low start, but if he went for it, I predicted he wouldn’t get far, maybe to the borderline of my property and only if he got lucky. I didn’t like to play fetch, but I would place myself in the role of a goddamn dog if the paycheck asked me to. Trent was already in the car and waiting for him to get off of it. I sighed realizing what a stubborn ass he was. I broke the distance, wrapping my fingers around his leather jacket covered upper arm. I managed to move him only by an inch before he threw me away. My eyes went wide. Not only he managed to resist my charms, he also managed to pour the bourbon on my red sports bra. Who was this monster? I knew Trent’s stare was on us and I was not willing to give up that easily.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" I hissed through my teeth as my hand lied on his shoulder. My thumb pressed on the delicate place right above his collar bone. He fell to his knees.
"Go fuck yourself…" He cried out soon after his statement, I knew exactly how much it hurt and I kept pressing even harder.
"Speak up, I can’t hear you." I looked over my shoulder to see the black escalade leaving my driveway. Good riddance, I didn’t need spectators, the view was not going to get prettier than this.
"Fuck you!" He flung the bottle towards me with a wild roar. I couldn’t understand if it was because of the pain or because of the humiliation? A girl who was good ten inches shorter than him and more petite had brought him to his knees. I had to say he hit me hard, it was a wonder to see the bottle fully intact. He had hit my thigh and I realized it’s going to bruise. My fingers made a little trip from his shoulder to the back of his head, painfully pulling on his shaggy hair. He was forced to look in my cold gray eyes.
"Fuck me?" I exclaimed angrily biting on my lip, "You hit me one more time and you’re a dead man." I sounded like a beast, like a predator and it looked like he considered my proposal for a second. I could bare with any of his tantrums, with any form of his arrogance, with his need for self-approval, anything, but not with him physically hurting me. Before I made any regretful decisions, I let go of his hair and went inside the house. Hell, I didn’t need Trent’s money if Duke was going to fight me with his fists and teeth. He had my permission to get off this property. No, it was advised if he didn’t want to get in a fist fight with me. I knew it would hurt, hell I’d probably would get few broken ribs and a couple of bruises until I started to play dirty. There was no way for me to win in an honest fight, he was two times bigger than me and drunker. He wouldn’t feel my punches, but I would break under his.
I placed the teapot on the stove. Morrison, pull yourself together. What the hell are you thinking? When have you given up on money? Never. No matter how bad the job was, so why quit now? Suppress your inner demons. Yes. Nobody was going to stand in the way of me and my paycheck.
The door flung open when I was reaching for the tea cups. Without even turning my head, I knew he had sat down on the dark couch. He sighed. What was he sighing about? Please, don’t tell me, was he sick? He had a tendency of throwing up when being around me and drunk as fuck, I hoped this was not the case.
"Have you calmed down?" Once the water was ready, I poured it in the cups and added a tea bag in each. Hmm, which cup seemed more appealing to me? The one with Donald Duck or the one with delicious looking cupcakes? I decided to add two spoons of sugar to the cupcake littered cup, since I loved Donald Duck too much and I didn’t use sugar in my nutrition.
"The hell I am!" I took the cups and went in the living room, placing them both on the aged coffee table in front of him. His fingers were running through his raven bangs. "You’re the fucking core of all my problems…" He raised his drunk physiognomy just to show me some sparks of angst dancing in his brown irises, as for me, I just smiled, knowing it would set him even more off. I sat down in the bluish armchair in front of the coffee table.
"Seems fair," I shrugged my shoulders, now having a fully different plan for him. "Let’s talk this over, shall we?" I pushed the cupcake cup closer. I’ve always wanted to play the shrink, only I’ve never had the opportunity, unless… A gun placed to ones temple while I’m listening to him beg for mercy, was considered as a psychiatrist’s job? I believed not.
"Why should I talk to a homicidal bitch?" He laughed, nevertheless, he raised the cup to his lips. How could he trust me? If I was a homicidal bitch, how could he drink the tea and not be afraid of me poisoning him?
"I’ve been called worse." I smiled taking a mouthful of the hot tea. "The tea’s poisoned."
"If it really was poisoned, you’d have never warned me." He placed the mug on the brown coffee table after a big mouthful. Oh, how wrong he was, it really was poisoned with something called white death a.k.a. sugar. Or maybe it was something else? I had added the sugar without even looking if it was sugar that really was in the jar.
"True." I lied. "But Big T and Madd wouldn’t let me poison you."
"Just stop..." He raised his hand. Stop? But I was just getting started. "They could fucking drive off a cliff... See if I care."
"We could arrange that..." I grinned, seeing how his ignorance turned into frustration. It was advantageous to realize he didn’t know me at all. He narrowed his eyes as he guessed if I was joking or not. "See if you care. Come on, it would be fun," I continued, my words were finally sinking in, "I would cut the brakes while you’d distract them... Oh, and we’d make them listen to Justin Bieber." I widened my eyes in fake excitement.
"You’re fucking crazy..." He exclaimed. This was getting boring. Every time he met me, he told me I was crazy. If he hadn’t noticed, calling me crazy was not an insult.
"Isn’t that what you want? They’re murderers. This world would be better off without them," Oh, I could do this for a living. This was so much fun, or was it just because I had been completely alone for the last week and I was even enjoying his company. Speaking of company, where was my friend? I turned to look through the arch which connected the living room to the kitchen and saw no one. Another one who grew to hate me over the last hour and now we’ll remember I even poured him some milk. Men.
"They’re my friends..." I looked down on my wristwatch. Fine this was getting tiring, just half an hour had passed, another half an hour and a thousand dollars would be already in my bank account. You can do it, Morrison. There's nothing wrong with a slight change of plans.
"Are they? Can you be friends with a... killer?" No, this was amusing and kind of interesting. And painful. Seeing him this badly hurt was not entertaining, but I tried to shut those feelings out and get my amusement from his obscurity. "Fine. Enough with the torture." He arched his eyebrow. Now was he really considering me a monster? I was here to lay the truth, gently. The true monster is a person who can tell the truth and later be entertained by the reaction of his victim, I, in particular, was interesting in a happy ending between the trio.
"Torture?" He frowned. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Isn’t not knowing a torture?" This was my time to frown and lean forward.
"I know everything." He told me like I was the one who was retarded. I smiled through the confusion. Oh, right, Michelle told him everything. But what was everything?
"Care to fill me in?" I crossed my legs, widening my eyes like a true wacko I really was. I was truly excited. He shook his head whilst folding his arms. Why that son of a gun. "Oh come on, you can tell me. We used to live together..." I mocked him and the regret came crashing down as soon as I spoke it. You have to keep your tongue behind your teeth, Morrison.
"Used to..." He repeated the one phrase that sting me so badly. "Until I found out you’re a murderer."
"Oh, come on... Prove it..." I was aware I was the one to tell him the groundbreaking news in the first place, but how could he believe such nonsense so blindly?
"Ana..." He spoke, a smile on his face, feeling remarkably satisfied with his answer.
"What did you say?" Something flinched inside me. That obnoxious asshole had just told I killed probably the only person who I was able to call a friend?
"Wasn’t it fun? Killing someone who trusted you?" Suddenly the tables were turned and he was the one who was taunting me. What had she told him? Had she framed me for every single death of California over last four years? Flattering and thanks, but no thanks. "Later killing a whole family just out of boredom... Is that what you live for, to make people suffer?" Was he blind or my death glares were not obvious enough? Most of all, it pissed me off to be framed for something I hadn’t done. And second most annoying thing- people who didn’t know when enough is enough and they had to shut their pie holes. "Oh you’re one of those sick sadistic freaks, aren’t you?" I didn’t answer. "Is that fucking right?" He hissed and yet again I didn’t answer, if I opened my mouth, I would’ve probably said something I’d regret. "Well, it’s a shame you’re not masochistic..." He sighed, "We could’ve made experiments on you..."
That’s it. Either he was that drunk or he was an extremely well hidden idiot, who only came out when communicating with me. I jumped up and went to a simple nightstand which held a very valuable content. My hand reached for the handle of the drawer. I picked out a black leather case just few inches bigger than a palm. "What is that?" I looked back at him and saw a great frown. Afraid? Well you fucking better be. I turned on my hee2l and walked his way, pressing the case in his hand. Brian pulled on the zipper and his frown grew even bigger when he saw a simple dagger inside.
"You want experiments?" His index finger slid over the blade, "Take that blade and drive it in me," His eyes were filled with shock. I sat down on the coffee table, my bare leg between his as I watched him deeply in his frustrated browns. "You’re talking like you have some sort of idea how is it to do what I do. You don’t, but we can change it." He took the dagger and for a second I really thought he was going to stab me, but no, he didn’t. I reached for his hand and he froze. My fingers wrapped around his palm and I pulled his arm slowly towards my stomach. "See the scar... It’s the same one you noticed at Johnny’s," His eyes lowered on my stomach as I stopped his arm with the dagger just an inch from it, I could feel him fighting me. "But that’s not the right place to stab someone, of course it causes some internal bleeding, but it’s no biggy... You’d have to stab me here..." I lead his arm to a place under my ribcage, exactly below the lining of my sports bra, "in order to kill me... And you’d have to drag the dagger slightly upwards..."
"Why?" His voice was slightly husky and his dark eyebrows wrinkled together.
"Boy you’re drunk..." I giggled, "To stab my heart, silly..." He let go of the dagger and because of my loose grip and relaxed nature, I couldn’t force him to keep the dagger in his hand so the only thing I could do was spread my legs so it wouldn’t drive itself in my leg.
"You need to shut up..." He jumped from the couch and practically ran around it. "I swear there’s something fucking wrong with you..."
"You wanted to experiment with me..." I bent down to pick up the blade, "I allowed you, only it turns out you don’t have the gut." I pulled the blade between my index finger and thumb to wipe it off any dirt before putting it back in the case.
"How many people have you killed with that?" He brushed his hand through his hair and his browns narrowed on me. I placed the leather case beside me and glanced at him with a playful stare. The answer was- none. It was too dull to kill anyone with it, but what fun would that be to please him with such a boring answer as that?
"Why? You want to be on my list?"