Page 30 of The Butterfly Killer

Marcus couldn’t breathe for a second.

“You were watching her.”

Michael lowered the flashlight to the ground. He lifted his hand to Marcus’s cheek. Marcus jerked his head back. He slammed it right into the nail.

He let out a yelp.

Michael laughed as he clenched a fistful of Marcus’s hair. He pulled Marcus’s head to the side. “Yes, I was watching her. She was going to be next. The one to make me a headline.”

The fingers crawled along his scalp. Marcus shoved at Michael’s arm, but the man only gripped his hair harder. Marcus hissed as Michael dug his fingertip into the fresh wound on the back of his head.

“And then you fucking ruined it.”

Michael punched Marcus right in the face.

Marcus groaned as he dropped to the floor. Michael let him fall. He kicked Marcus in the gut and then in the chest, right beside where Marcus’s wound was.

“I had it all planned out.” Michael stepped over Marcus. He placed the sole of his shoe on Marcus’s hand and crushed it. “And youfuckingruined it!”

Marcus screamed.

“Stop that.” Michael slammed Marcus’s head down on the ground. “I will kill you if you don’t shut up.”

Marcus let out a little croak.

The pain split down to the base of his skull and down his spine. His limbs were numb as the pain took him over. He gave one little pitiful gasp as he tried to breathe. The floor was cold against his cheek. He felt his blood trailing down his forehead. He couldn’t say for sure if all the blood on the ground was his. He felt sick thinking about how many others was mixed together.

Michael paused. He loomed above Marcus, staring down at him as if he was thinking about something. Marcus’s breaths became labored. He dug his nails into the cement under him. His heart raced as he stared at the light filtering from under the door. He was scared to know what Michael was thinking about right then.

The silence was heavy. It weighed down on Marcus like a fifty pound weight. His breaths became harder to take until it felt like someone was strangling him. He wheezed, his blood filling his mouth. He’d bitten his tongue when he went down to the ground.

“I was planning on killing you outright,” Michael said with amusement. “But now that I see you…I think you’ll be the perfect replacement.”

Marcus went still as Michael lowered himself atop him. He went to his knees as he crouched over Marcus. He placed hishands next to Marcus’s on the cement. Marcus stared at the hand in front of his face. Michael was wearing black gloves.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you,” Michael whispered in Marcus’s ear. A cold shiver went through him.

“When I’m done with you, you’ll wish I’d killed you.”

Marcus’s whole body was on fire. His vision drifted in and out. He grasped onto the anger swelling inside him. It was just a spark, almost put out by the hopelessness he felt. He felt as if he couldn’t do anything—that it was too late. He just wanted everything to be over.

But he couldn’t end here. He couldn’t let his last moments be spent not even at the hands of the killer he was truly after. He wouldn’t be killed by someone who meant nothing to him.

As much as it killed him, the pain was so strong it almost took him out, he forced himself to reach out for the flashlight laying on the floor. He clenched it with the last bit of strength he had.

And then he swung it at Michael’s head.

He felt the impact as the end of the flashlight rammed into the side of Michael’s skull. There was a crack and Marcus didn’t know if it was the flashlight breaking or Michael’s head. He pulled it back and slammed it into the man’s head again before Michael stumbled backward.

Marcus hesitated. He was going to hit the man again, but something stopped him. The blood, the stench in the air, and the shaking in his hands prevented him from throwing the final blow. He didn’t want to be a killer.

He didn’t want to be on the same field as the man in front of him and the man he was trying to hunt down.

The flashlight clattered to the ground. He stumbled backward, his feet numb and his mind a frenzy of thoughts that made him sick. He found the courage at the last second to turn on his heels and run to the door.

He slammed into it. His whole body was out of wack and his coordination suffered because of how frenzied his mind was. It took him a couple tries to get a hold of the door handle. It was merely a piece of wood slotted into another piece of wood. He lifted it and shoved through it.

His feet picked up speed, but he tripped a couple times. Thankfully he didn’t slam into he ground. The sunlight was too bright. His eyes had a hard time adjusting to the afternoon sun. He still stumbled around. He didn’t know what it was. Maybe Michael had given him something while he was still passed out and that might be why he was having such a hard time doing much of anything.

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