Page 22 of Mean One

“It’s over, Max. Crispin loves me. He’s chosen me. It doesn’t have to be this way. Go back, be with him one last time before—” I swung my knife, cutting her arm as she stumbled back.

“No, this ends now. I will not lose him to you.”

“Max, please! I know you think you love him, but you don’t. This is just some sick obsession. You need help.” I swung again, screaming as she dodged my blow and shoved me over. She kicked my hand, knocking my knife from it and snatching it herself. “This doesn’t have to end this way! Please, for Crispin’s sake, stop. He wouldn’t want this.”

My eyes shot to the dead man’s gut inches from me, and May’s gaze followed. I grinned, cackling as I ripped the blade from his insides, blood spewing across the room. I crouched, May backing away from me in terror.

“Max, please,” she begged, raising my knife in her hand, her arm trembling.

“I told you, you don’t know what he wants. Only I do!” I screamed as I charged her.

Chapter 13

The Grouch

Christmas music playedfrom inside the cave as I approached the slightly ajar mining gate, blood smeared across it.

What the hell? What did you do now, Max?

I took a deep breath and stepped inside, trying to muster the strength to tell her what had happened, to end things once and for all. If only I could find the right words.

As I stepped deeper into the cave, the music grew, coated with a familiar humming. I stepped into the room, the fire burning, my chair facing it, a small radio playing on a small side table. My heart sank a little knowing I was about to leave her—the one person who had been there for me all these years. I knew she wasn’t going to take the news well.

It’s now or never.

“Max,” I called. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

A hand dripping red gracefully leaned over the leather armrest. It was Max’s, but something about it seemed off—different. I stepped around, looking down at her as she sat there, her legs crossed and body covered in blood, smiling up at me.

“What the fuck happened?” I fell to my knees in front of her, examining her closely for any sign of harm, hoping she wasn’t hurt. Thankfully, she was fine, unharmed in any way.

But then, whose blood is?—

“I missed you.” She booped my nose with a giggle. Something was off about her.

“I missed you too, freckles. Now, are you going to tell me what happened?” I pointed to her body.

“Oh, this?” She grabbed her skirt, motioning to the blood. “Oh, this isnothing. In fact, speaking of nothing, I have a gift for you!” Max bounced from the chair, rushing to the poorly decorated Christmas tree we had propped against the cave wall.

“Max,” I sighed as she picked up a small, neatly wrapped present, the blood on her hands smearing across the paper. “I need to tell you something.” She stopped, holding the gift with that beautiful smile of hers stamped across her face.

“Tell me what?” she asked.

“Max, I—” I struggled to form the words. “May-Martha and I?—”

“Hold that thought!” Max pranced toward me, kneeling as she placed the box in my lap. “Before you say anything else, here. Open it.”

“Max.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s my Christmas gift to you.” I scoffed, lightly laughing as I indulged her, pulling at the ribbon and unwrapping the box. I lifted the lid, my smile dropping as I stared at what she just handed me, praying it wasn’t what I thought.

No, please?—

“You told me the only way you could love me was if you had her heart in your hands.”

No!

My stomach sank as I dropped the box, the bloody heart rolling from inside as I stood, shaking with fear—fear of what happened, but mostly fear of Max.

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