Page 34 of All My Broken Pieces

We sneak down the hall, pausing just at the entrance to the living room. I peek around the corner, finding our target facing away from us, his focus on the TV as he nurses a beer bottle. Looking to Killian, I jerk my head toward the back of Thomas, reaching into my pocket to pull out the hunting knife I brought along.

We slip into the room, circling Thomas to block the exits to the room.

“Hate to spoil the ending, but he dies.” Thomas jumps at the sound of my voice, whipping his head in my direction. I shrug, gesturing toward the TV. “Sorry not sorry.”

He looks at me with horrified eyes, gulping and demanding, “Who are you?” I smirk at the quiver in his voice.

Taking a step closer, I twirl the knife in my hand, watching the blood drain from his face. “Me? I’m no one. Just an instrument of destruction. A method of demise.” His confusion mingles with the palpable fear. Sighing heavily, I place a hand on my hip, waving the weapon around in the air with my other. “A hired hand. Murderer for sale. Any of this ringing a bell?” I can see the moment it clicks in his mind and the satisfaction I feel as the remaining color drains is indescribable.

He leaps to his feet, darting toward the other exit, only to run into the hard wall of muscles that is my co-conspirator for this job. Killian grips his arm, jerking him around to face me without a word.

Tsking, I slowly cross the room with a shake of my head. “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.” I hum. “Did you really think you could get away?”

Thomas shakes in Killian’s hold, looking feverishly between us. “Wh-what are you doing here? I p-paid. I did nothing wrong!” His cries grate at my nerves, the audacity of the asshole to act like he’s innocent in all this.

“You did nothing wrong?” I echo, cocking my head at him.

He nods wildly, the stupid idiot thinking he’s somehow found a way to talk his way out of this. “Y-yeah. Just ask Charles,” I chuckle in response, my laughter growing as he awkwardly joins in. He laughs nervously, glancing between us again. “See? So, just check with your boss and we’ll be all square. Chalk this up to a mi-misunderstanding.”

My quiet laughter dies out as I bring the tip of the blade to his chin, lifting his head with the slightest pressure against his skin.“Charles is dead.” My emotionless declaration sucks the air out of Thomas’ lungs.

“Wait, b-” Before he can say whatever bullshit he was about to spout out, I angle my wrist, slicing into his flesh. He shrieks, tugging against Killian’s grip, the blood trickling down his jaw drips onto his body and the floor with his erratic movements. “You fuckingbitch!” He shouts, his eyes wild with rage.

I smile sweetly, reaching my free hand forward to tap his head. “Now, now. No need for name calling.” Looking over his shoulder, I meet Killian’s gaze and jerk my head toward the couch Thomas was seated on.

Without a word, Killian drags him across the room, not even flinching at his desperate attempts to break free. Once in front of the sofa, he shoves Thomas down, crossing his arms to block his exit.

I skip across the room, giddy with the bloodlust pulsing through my veins. “Thanks, grandpa.” I singsong, laughing at his scowl. “So, we made Kenneth’s death quick and painless. I’m thinking we do the opposite for Tommy boy here. What do you think?” Thomas whimpers at my question, only serving to further my enthusiasm.

Killian surprises me by smiling my way. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I agree.”

The pure euphoric response that comes from his agreement has me ripping off my mask, needing to fully enjoy the moment. “You hear that, Tommy?” I whisper conspiratorially, leaning behind the couch to speak low into his ear. “This is going to hurt.” On the last word, I stab the blade into his shoulder, relishing in the scream that erupts from him.

Killian glances around, snatching up the TV remote and turning up the volume to drown out the cries.

I rip my knife from Thomas’ flesh, watching the blood pour from the wound. Something in the howls of pain and crimsonliquid settles the frustration that has been building up inside of me since my last encounter with my baby. I find the nerves ease as I inflict pain on this asshole.

With that thought fueling me, I grip one of his wrists, jerking his arm up. “Wh-what are you doing?” He cries moments before I jab the blade into the palm of his hand. His shrieks echo loudly in the room, tears pouring down his face.

“Hey, there there. It will all be over soon.” I soothe, releasing his wrist and patting the side of his face with my bloodied hand. I set the knife down on the couch behind his neck, gripping his wrist once more. Bringing his hand up in the air, I proceed to snap each of his fingers before doing the same to his other hand.

“Ple-please sto-” His plea is cut off as I press the blade against his throat.

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” I hum, reaching into my back pocket to pull out a pair of knitting needles. Holding them up, I glance up at Killian. “You want to do the honors?”

He looks between Thomas and me, his expression unreadable behind the black ski mask. After a few moments, he reaches forward and takes the offered needles. “For Kenneth.” Is all he says as he jabs each one into Thomas’ eyes.

I take a step back, removing the knife from his throat as I watch his body jerk. The needles must have hit some sort of nerve or wire pathway or something in his brain as his twitching continues long after the life has drained from his body.

Looking up from the dead man, I meet Killian’s gaze, a smile spread across my face. “That was fun.”

He grunts his agreement and begins the arduous task of cleaning up. Once we’ve erased any evidence we were in the room, we exit the house and make our way toward our vehicles. Without a word, Killian climbs into his car and drives off, leaving me to gape after his sudden exit.

“Here I thought this would be a whole bonding moment.” I grumble under my breath as I climb into the back of the van, quickly changing and shoving the knife, soiled clothing, and gloves into a trash bag to dispose of later.

After a quick inspection of myself in the rearview mirror, I climb into the driver’s seat and begin my journey home. I can already feel the melancholy settling in again at the thought of returning home to my empty condo.

An infuriating realization hits me as I grow closer to my home.

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