Page 17 of Kill, Sleep, Repeat: Vol II

Regardless, it doesn’t matter. It is what it is.

The next one is crouched in the living room between two end tables, a woman with too much makeup and too little time to figure out how much danger she’s really in. I move quickly. A shot to the chest, and she’s gone before she even has the chance to beg.

Blood splatters across the wall. It’s messy, it’s brutal, and it’s exactly what I need today.

Upstairs, there are footsteps. I take the stairs two at a time, each step deliberate, closer to what I hope is the final act.

This job was supposed to be easy. In and out. One target.

But as I push open the door to the bedroom, I see another man standing there—expecting me.

He’s holding a gun.

I don’t hesitate. Not for a second. I pull the trigger faster. He’s still trying to aim, his hand shaking. The gun goes off. But it misses.

I fire once. The shot rings out and hits him in the neck.

He drops, his blood pooling acrosspristine sheets.

I stand over him, watching his life bleed out onto the bed. It’s a quick death. Clean. No lingering.

Sophie stands behind me. Her face is tight, her hands trembling.

I can feel her eyes on me, trying to read something in my face. I can feel the judgment—hers, mine, maybe both. But it doesn’t matter. Not now.

We’re done.

I turn away, pushing past her without another word. The house is silent now, but it won’t stay that way for long.

Sophie doesn’t speak as we walk out, but I feel her presence behind me. The air around us feels thick, heavy. She wasn’t expecting to have to murder an entire family any more than I was. It’s a first for her, not for me. It’s a line she won’t be able to erase, no matter how many times she tries to justify it.

But she’ll be fine.

Eventually.

14

HAYLEY

Boarding school is supposed to be about finding yourself or whatever crap they tell parents to justify the tuition. But all I’ve found is that I hate this place. The halls are too quiet. The rules are suffocating. And the people here? They’re fake. The only thing I’ve figured out is that none of this is where I’m supposed to be.

It’s been a week since the last message. A week since I sat there, frozen, staring at the screen. “Are you looking for the truth?”

Ican help you find it.

The words are like poison, and the more I think about them, the harder it is to swallow. Someone knows something. Someone is out there, watching, waiting. They’ve disappeared, gone silent, but the tension in the pit of my stomach hasn’t.

I wish I could forget about it, but the more I try, the more I can feel it—like a trap closing around me. I’m stuck here, far away from Texas, and every minute that ticks by feels like I’m sinking deeper into something I can’t see, can’t understand. And it’s like no one else cares.

Not Mom. Not Sophie.

I glance down at my phone again, then away. I’ve been checking it obsessively, hoping for another message, another hint this isn’t some joke. But nothing. Just that silence. It’s killing me. I’ve tried digging deeper—searched the same articles on Vincent Marano a hundred times, looked at the same photos, the same facts. Nothing new. Every lead feels colder than the last. It’s like trying to dig through ice.

But the texts…they keep nagging at me.

Someone who knows your family’s secrets.

It was like a threat. It didn’t feel like a coincidence, and that’s what haunts me the most. It’s not the only thing.

---