Page 13 of Psycho Killers

"Whoa, what the fuck is going on?" I ask, looking between them.

"He took my fucking list!" she screams, her face flush with rage.

"I didn't take it, Cali," Dom says, his voice softer. "I swear."

"You were the last one to see fucking it. Where else would it be?" Her arms fall, but the glare she sends him feels like a physical blow.

I know I should confess, but I'm not ready to let go of the list. Holding it feels strangely vitalizing. But I can't let this causemore conflict. I reach into my pocket, gently taking Cali's elbow and pulling her into a hug.

"Dom didn't take your list, baby." I hand it to her, bracing for her wrath.

But her reaction is far worse. She snatches the list, rolls her eyes, and pushes me away with surprising strength. "Sorry for freaking out, Dom," she says, hugging him before storming out without another word.

Five and Dom stare at me, shocked. I can only sigh, sinking into the worn recliner as they join me, sitting on the couch. Five, as usual, lights a blunt, and we pass it around in stunned silence.

A thick haze of smoke hangs in the air, like a fog clinging to a moonless night. The music playing—tracks from our childhood—wraps us in a nostalgic bubble no one dares to burst. Finally, I break the silence, my thoughts pressing in. Taking a long drag of my cigarette, I exhale slowly, trying not to choke on the smoke as I speak.

"You think she'd be mad if I killed my father? Just... did it, and didn't tell her?" I ask, curious about their opinions.

Unlike Dom and Ash, my father is still alive. He's still fucking here, continuing his depraved acts. I've been watching him since Ash's hospitalization, and what I've seen and heard fucking sickens me. I just want him gone. I want my freedom. I want to stop looking over my fucking shoulder.

"Dude, she'd probably fucking kill you if you didn't tell her first." Five laughs, coughing on the smoke.

"Yeah, she's just as angry at your father as you are. She needs closure to move on. Once she's dealt with everyone on that list, she can start healing, rebuilding her life," Dom says, offering insight into Cali's mindset that hadn't occurred to me.

"You're right." I shake my head, biting back what I desperately want to confess.

"What is it?" Dom asks, his gaze sharp, sensing my hesitation.

How do I tell my best friend I've been craving murder? It's almost as fucking addictive as the drugs.

"How fucked up is it that I want to kill someone?" I blurt out, holding my breath.

Surprisingly, Dom and Five laugh, releasing the tension in my shoulders. Five's eyes gleam with a playful high, but Dom's expression is more serious, almost… intrigued, as if he might feel the same. Whether we like it or not, we've plunged deeper into the fucking darkness we always wanted to escape. The closer we get to freedom, the more unstable we become. Our morals have vanished, if we ever had any. Our souls are as black as our guarded hearts.

"You're crazy, Kill," Five says, as if stating the obvious.

"I know I'm crazy. I've never denied it, and I won't start now." I shrug, proud and obvious.

Still laughing, Five grabs his hoodie and keys. "I'm heading to H-Town. I need to get out of this place before I fucking lose it," he says, saluting us before leaving.

I turn to Dom, the twisted look still in his eyes. "Let me guess, you feel the same?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He pauses, weighing his answer. "I do," Dom admits, his voice filled with a newfound confidence. "I've wanted to for days, but I didn't want to say anything if no one else felt it."

"Me too," I chuckle. "I definitely feel it."

Dom leans back, a slow, thoughtful smile spreading across his face. The flickering light from the TV screen dances across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. He reaches for the half-empty bottle of Crown Royal, swirling the amber liquid before taking a long, deliberate sip.

"So," he begins, his voice low and measured, "we're all a little... unhinged, huh?"

"Just a little." I nod, the smoke from my cigarette curling around my face like a halo.

The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable; it's a complex understanding, a comfortable weight of unspoken desires. We've crossed a fucking line, and there's no going back. The thrill of the impending violence, the intoxicating allure of revenge—it's a high unlike any other. It's a dark, twisted addiction, but it's ours.

"I've been thinking," Dom continues, his gaze fixed on the swirling smoke, "maybe we should... coordinate."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Coordinate?"

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