Page 51 of Caution Tape

The wound in my shoulder twinges, as if it wants to remind me of the danger she poses.

Kill her.

Right now? In my house? C’mon.

Let’s be real, Noly-boy, that’s not why. You want to fuck her again, don’t you? Are you getting attached, buddy? Maybe you don’t want the house of corpses. Maybe you want a house and three kids with the raging lunatic who looks good in a dress, hmmm?

I listen to my mind arguing with itself, twirling the problem over in its mental hands, examining it from each angle. Jerald, Cora, Michael.

There was truth there. I do want her again. I want to see how far she will go. How close to gone she really is. How deep the well of rage and sickness lurks inside her.

Just stick to the plan.

Pin it all on her.

Staring at the red dot in my painting, I watch as the crimson widens and engulfs my vision. I succumb to a delicious daydream, imagining breathless newscasters describing the trail of victims.

“Nolan Graves, the notorious serial killer known simply as ‘Jawbone’ because of his tendency to take the jaw of his victims, is currently wanted by police in multiple states. Authorities are coordinating with the FBI and implore that the public come forward with any information. His number of victims remains unknown, however more and more information comes to light each day…”

Cora awakens; I feel her eyelashes flutter against my skin, and after a moment I can tell she’s staring up at my face while I gaze at the painting.

“What?” I ask.

“I want to know what is next.”

I look down at her. “Depends on how far you want to go, little monster.”

She doesn’t like that. I regret it; I’m tired and sore. I really don’t want to wrestle around with this girl as she tries to stab me to death.

Over a fucking pet name.

Instead, she sits up. “There was a moment, when we were together, I… wanted to kill you. The same thing happened with Michael. It’s this…rushof rage, and hate, and pleasure and—“ she catches herself, embarrassed at revealing this vulnerable side of herself.

I roll my eyes. “Cora, I have killed two people. I’m going to kill more. I ate Michael’s liver. I bit into it, and it popped in my mouth.” I shake my head. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

She turns those hellish eyes on me. Either the comment about what I did to Michael, or the fact that I was willing to listen to her twisted fantasies, gives a quiet, steely confidence.

“Here’s what I want,” she says, and I listen to her. What she’s saying is risky. Violent. More than a little insane.

It turns me on.

Cora

There’s a seductive ambience in this red, dimly lit nightclub. Heads turn and all eyes are on me as I head for the bar, neon lights illuminating beneath the countertops. I sit on the stool and brush my bangs from my vision, eyeing the bartender before he heads my way.

His gaze roams down my body, starting with my dark eyeliner showcasing my eyes, and my dark red coated lips, then down to my full breasts nearly spilling out from my low-cut dress.

I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue at the beautiful image in my head. Cutting his throat. Spilling his guts out. The list goes on.

“What can I get you?” he asks over the blaring music and drunken chatter.

“Rum and cherry coke.”

Slightly turning in my stool as I wait for my drink, I begin to scan the room. It’s a Saturday night, so the club is packed. Adrenaline is high. The dance floor is so crowded people barely have room to move their arms. The atmosphere is electric, and the music moves everyone simultaneously like puppets on a string. The scent of sweat, beer, and cheap cologne fills the air.

They jump and sway drunkenly, slurring their words, having the night of their lives as if they are free and nobody is watching. But I am.

I’m watching more closely than I ever have before.

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