Page 23 of Madness Blooms

She tosses back her drink and wipes her mouth. “Where did Kyla and Briar go?”

I shrug and play with the orange twist on my glass. “Probably on the dance floor.” She drops the subject and orders another drink. I scan the crowds of writhing bodies and spot Briar grinding against a scantily clad woman. I roll my eyes;Kyladeserves better. I keep my gaze on him as he meanders from woman to woman.

After some banal topics that neither of us seemed authentically interested in, I finally get my opportunity: Briar disentangles himself from the dancers and heads toward the back door to smoke. I scoot from the counter and stand. “Sorry, Grace. Nature calls.” I kiss her cheek in feigned apology. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” she says, drowning herself in her drink, looking mildly melancholic.

As I weave through the crowd and exit through the back door, I notice a man pushing a woman against the brick wall of the alley, his hand snaking up her short skirt. They ignore me as I search for Briar, passing by the trash cans where I have hidden my killer attire out of sight.

I follow the scent of his cheap menthol cigarettes around the corner, where I find him standing near the end of the alleyway beside a dumpster, alone and vulnerable. I can’t help but grin with anticipation.

Showtime.

He notices me approaching, and I give him a friendly wave. “Hey, Briar. Surprised to see you out here.”

He huffs and taps his foot, clearly not wanting company—unless it’s some poor girl willing to put out for his crusty dick. “’sup.” He takes a drag and exhales.

I force a smile. “Would you mind if I bummed one of those from you?” I ask, nodding toward the pack poking out from his too-tight pants.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he remarks, digging out his cigarettes from his pocket.

I accept one of the cancer sticks and wait for him to light it. “I used to. But I’ve been pretty stressed out tonight.”

“Tell me about it,” he says, lighting the tip. He pockets the lighter and shifts his stance, cords tensing in his neck. “Don’t say anything to her, but Kyla’s been annoying the hell out of me lately. Smothering me and shit.” He inhales another puff. “Bitch doesn’t know the meaning of space, you know?”

I suck in the toxic smoke and try not to cough, resisting the urge to strangle this fucker right here and now. “She cares about you, wants to be around you. What’s wrong with that?”

He smirks. “I feel sorry for you, being stuck with that weirdo, Lawrence. How do you fuck her without wanting to gag? She’s as flat as a board with no ass to speak of. At least Kyla has some nice meat in the right places, if you know what I mean.”

I take a deep breath and exhale, my lips forming a tight line. Bunny may be awkward, but at least she’s not as repulsive as Norman-fucking-Atticus-shithead-Clark. And howdarehe speak of Cameron’s daughter that way?! “I have to go,” I say, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with my foot. “Grace is waiting for me.”

I hear him laugh as I stride to the trash cans. The couple has disappeared. Exhilaration fills me as I retrieve my bag from its hiding place and put on my gloves. I grab the doorstop, wedging it underneath the door. After donning my coat and mask, I prepare a mix of chemicals on an old rag. Once ready, I peek around the corner and see that Briar has turned around. Slipping into the alleyway, I keep my steps light.

Before I smash my fist into his skull, disorienting him.

He lets out a surprised yelp as he drops his cigarette, and I quickly cover his face with the rag and hold it there. He’s a scrawny thing; the chemical and blow to his head appear to render him effectively incapacitated. Once he weakens, he stumbles back into me, right into my unsheathed knife.

“You really shouldn’t smoke, Norman,” I taunt, snatching the blade from his back. “That shit will kill you.” I plunge it into his neck, tearing through the flesh. He tries to scream, but the music is too loud. He staggers, falling against the wall, his eyes searching for mine—but finding nothing but the void.

Blood spurts from his neck like a fountain. “Why?” he croaks out weakly, sliding down the wall.

I crouch down and place the flat side of the blade underneath his chin, forcing him to look at me. “She’smine,” I snarl.

Confusion clouds his gaze—or is it from the loss of blood? Hard to tell.

With a quick flick of my wrist, I slice open his throat. “Happy birthday, asshole.”

After disposing of Briar’s body in the dumpster and cleaning up, I return to the club as if nothing happened.

As I enter, I see Bunny go into the women’s restroom. I follow her inside, where she starts washing her hands. She doesn’t notice me until I lock the door and sneak up behind her, caging her in. She startles, her hackles raised for a moment. I press myself into her; the primal need to satiate the lust that has built up from the kill burns strong.

“What are you doing?” she asks as she tries to move away.

I stare at her in the mirror with dark, hooded eyes. “No more questions,” I murmur, tracing a finger across her neck.

As I cup her ass, her arms break out in goosebumps, and her face flushes with desire. “Somebody will hear,” she protests, her eyes darting toward the stalls where moans and slapping skin can be heard.

A slow, wicked smirk spreads across my lips. “Don’t worry so much,” I say, nibbling at the junction of her neck and shoulder. I imagine blood seeping from a jagged slash across her throat, which only makes me harder. “They’re too busy fucking and probably too high to care about us.” I slide my hand under her top, grazing her ribs and running my fingertips across her racing heart to knead her breast. “Relax, Grace.”

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