Page 47 of Sick Bargain

“Sauder,” Matterson gasps. “You! What is the purpose of this? You think you have what it takes to control me?” He thrashes in Krypt’s hold, but it doesn’t appear to be a challenge for my master.

“I think I have what it takes tokillyou,” I tell him instead. It wasn’t a part of the deal I made with Krypt, but now that this disgusting cult leader is right in front of me, I want it to be. I want to take a life. I want to play the role of judge, jury, and executioner. I want to dole out justice and inflict the same damage upon him as he’s put on my family.

Virtue In Lives Exchanged… it’s the Vile House motto, and I want to play by its rules.

He laughs at my declaration, but Krypt shuts him up. “Look at him,” he snarls. “See his face. Look into the eyes of the man who will end your life.”

Matterson looks at me, seeing for the first time how crazed I’ve become. I let him see it all. I turn as destructive as I was the night I goaded Krypt into fucking me. When he shakes harder and the ground beneath him turns wet, I smile at him.

“Oh god,” he cries, his eyes shifting to something behind me.

I turn, finding my brother at my back. I never even heard his footsteps. His teal mask stares at Matterson, but his hand lands on my shoulder in support. Krypt tenses at the touch, but he allows me to have my moment. Crouching beside me, Ghost removes his mask, and Matterson stares in shock at the last two Sauder sons.

“You’re a Vile…” Matterson mutters. “Both of you?” He tries to look at Krypt, but he doesn’t allow it.

“Have you met my brother?” Ghost asks, his voice amused and entertained.

Krypt lifts his mask and looks at me, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. Matterson is in his final six minutes, and Krypt has a question from before. So, I ask it this time.

“What are you thinking about, Reeven? In your moment of death?”

Krypt’s sick grin greets me, and I fucking love it.

“Is it regret? Is there a highlight reel of your life playing through your memories?” I lift the knife I’ve been holding and press it under his jaw, Krypt helping to keep him still. “What do you regret?”

“Nothing!” Matterson shouts. “Fucking nothing!”

I tilt my head at him and get a thrill out of using Krypt’s words again. “Pique my interest and I might let you live till sunrise.” Fuck, I’m gross. I’m gross to make a joke in a moment like this, especially when it refers to moments before Krypt assaulted me for the first time. Something is seriously wrong with me, but I’m too bloodthirsty to change at the moment.

“Six minutes,” Krypt says. “Just a drop in the time span of his life. Isn’t that right, Remiel?”

“I fucking hate that you two have murder jokes.” Ghost laughs hard. Harder than I’ve heard him laugh in a long time. It echoes through the theatre room and makes Matterson tremble. Ghost stands, giving me permission to lead this show. He steps up to Krypt’s side, forcing Matterson to focus on me and only me.

“What do you regret, Reeven Matterson? Your six minutes are ticking down.” I smile at him.

“Not killing you when I had the chance,” he spits at me.

“Remiel,” Krypt warns, coming to the end of his leash. “I can’t listen to him talk to you like that.”

I move the knife down to Matterson’s chest, trying to find a fleshy place between his ribs. “Right here?” I ask as Matterson thrashes in his hold.

Krypt’s fingers land on mine, steering the tip of my weapon to the right place before he angles my hand. “Hard and upward,” Krypt says. “Leave it in so he doesn’t die right away.”

“No!” Matterson begs. “I’ll leave Moros. You can have my following. I don’t care about any of them. You can take them, and I’ll leave and never come back.”

“It’s too late for that,” I snap at him. “You fucked with my family for too long. My turn to fuck with you.” I push the knife, and it’s harder than I thought it would be. I bring the heel of my other hand to the butt of the hilt, using it to help me push harder.

Matterson cries, screaming into the theatre room. I push harder, and Krypt keeps him from thrashing too much. Ghost’s hands land on Matterson’s shoulders, holding him steady as I murder him.

I’m murdering someone. Right now.

“More, hero.”

“Then leave it in,” Ghost adds.

I take a deep breath. This is monumental and will change me to my very core, but I’ve come too far to turn back now. The sickness is in me, and it’s festering away in the centre of my chest, filtering through my bloodstream and turning me vile.

With a final shove, I stare into Matterson’s eyes. They aren’t like Ophelia’s because he’s not close enough to death yet. The blade is keeping most of his blood inside, but the stickiness of his wound reaches my hand, and I lift my fingers to look at it. Crimson, made brighter because of the glowing red emergency lights, drips down my fingers and weaves into the creases of my skin. I’m numb to it, but buzzing with something.

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