Page 61 of Chalk Outline
“You know what they say about torture. Pluck their eyes out first so they can’t see what you do next, but they will hear everything: the morbid silence before the blade slices their skin, the footsteps and sounds around them when they don’t know what’s coming, and the screams of people when they see their horrifying appearance.”
That silences him immediately.
“Well, luckily for you, I always kill my enemies.”
Spider-Web-Face’s manic laugh, a siren blaring through the night’s exasperated sigh. The rain picks up. I crouch down next to him to search his pockets.
“What are you doing?” Jason grits out.
“Looking for anything that will tell us more about him.”
The tower lights illuminate us as I glide my hands over his body, searching his jeans for ID. My fingers graze something smooth like paper that rustles against the fabric of his clothes, and I tear it out before it’s completely soaked.
Loyalty rages where secrets come out. That’s why, when drinks go down, a truth bursts out… or should I rephrase? When a knife falls, blood flows.
Great.
Another note.
“Did you write this note?” I ask, narrowing my eyes into slits.
“Not my style, Winnie. Someone must have slipped it into my pocket.”
“Call her, Winnie, one more time, and I will rip your teeth out one by one and watch you scream in pain with a smile.” Jason lashes out, tightening his grip around the knife’s handle.
I bite my bottom lip, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. Confusion washes over me in waves as thoughts swarm my mind.
He was the one dressed as a cop at the party. He is too young to be someone from the circus, given that it’s been sixteen years since it was burned. He should be around my age.
I shift my gaze to Jason.
What if the notes predicted what was about to happen to me?
There’s a bear out here, and a killer on the run.What happens if the killer dies?
Can the killer be replaced?
This is so twisted and fucked up. The more I think about it, the faster I reach a dead end. Again. I have more questions than answers.
I pull myself up, take a deep breath, and slam my hand into Jason’s chest. He catches the note as I walk away and pace along the ledge, dragging my boots through the mud.
My head snaps back to them when Jason yanks Spider-Web-Face up to his feet and whispers something. In the blink of an eye, he rams himself into him like a bull, pushing Jason forward.
The waves crash against the large rocks.
He uses the stream as a compass—he can’t see, but he can hear.
I move away from the ledge and scream. “Jason, he can hear the ocean!”
“Let’s dive, shall we?”
He only shoves Jason an inch from the edge before Jason throws him to the ground, getting his boot in his face.
The staccato repetition of his brutal strikes turns what looked like a beautiful forest into a death trap. I’m caught in a danceof death with a vicious killer and a psycho with a morbid sense of humor. Jason throws a middle finger to the sky and crosses every red line he can find, cutting the corners of his mouth.
“Who sent you?” Jason barks again.
“My dad!” Spider-Web-Face yells, spitting blood on the grass.
