Page 141 of Sinister Legacy
Noticing my diverted attention, he begins to turn.
“You should have checked if they were truly dead. Oh well, too late now.”
King and Madison fall upon him with the switchblade and corkscrew, and I watch them stab him repeatedly until he’s in shreds. A dark-red pool of blood inches closer to my feet.
I step in it with my sock-covered foot, the fabric soaking up the blood as I stare down at the dead, broken body. King and Madison straighten up.
“I worried you would take it personally,” I say to King.
“I kind of did when you first stabbed me with the corkscrew,” he replies, dragging the back of his hand over his forehead and leaving behind a streak of blood, “but then I figured it out when you pretended to stab me in the stomach.”
“The camera was at my back,” I reply, crouching down. “He couldn’t see what I was doing.”
“You’re fucking vicious,” Madison says with a laugh as I inch my fingers underneath the mask. “You only stabbed him once, but I was stabbed twice. Not fair.”
“I figured you’re used to it by now after you were attacked in the bathroom,” I jest. “The knife was shallow, and I didn’t cut you near any vital organs. It’ll sting for a while, but you’ll be fine.”
Inhaling a steadying breath, I slowly slide off the mask and discard it on the floor.
“What the hell?” Madison blurts behind me, her voice heavy with shock. I blink down at Kara’s face, unable to grasp the truth in front of me. She killed Kit. Her own fucking boyfriend.
“The fuck…” King whispers.
Madison slides her fingers under my arm and drags me to my feet. “We need to leave.”
Staring back at Kara’s dead, empty eyes, I let King and Madison guide me out of the room, toward the staircase at the end of the hallway.
I’m still trying to figure out what happened. King’s friend, Kara, was the killer all along.
But why?
Why would she do all of this? Why would she kill her own friends? Jasper? Kit?
The wooden steps creak beneath our weight. King is at the front, opening the door before stepping through and reaching for my hand. One look at the windows reveals it’s still dark outside. We’re in a cabin, somewhere remote by the looks of it. There are no streetlights outside, and the sky is void of the smog from the city center.
Moving away from the window, I search for a phone. We need to call for help. In the center of the room sits a red fabric couch with a tartan blanket. It’s dusty, which tells me no one lives here.
“Where are we?” Madison asks, turning in a circle and staring up at the wooden beams that run the length of the ceiling.
“No fucking clue.” King is looking out of the window now, holding the thick, red curtain out of place. “It’s too dark to see anything, but it looks like we’re in the woods.”
Madison sits down on the couch, elbows on her knees, and scrubs her blood-smeared face. “How did the killer get you here, King?”
“I was ambushed on my way home.”
“The killer,Kara,ran out at me from behind the kitchen door when I entered the room and shoved the burlap sack over my head. She held a knife to my throat.”
“She had a gun when she ambushed me.”
Madison lowers her hands. “I can’t imagine she’d want to risk getting in a physical fight with you.”
Leaving them to their conversation, I locate a phone in the kitchen and remove it from its holder. I’m not even surprised when silence greets me as I press it to my ear. Of course, there’s no reception out here. No one lives here, so why would the phone work?
Placing it back in the holder, I grip the counter and let my chin rest against my chest. I’m exhausted now that the adrenaline is wearing off. I probably have a concussion, too. My head is throbbing incessantly to the point where my stomach clenches with nausea.
The door clicks shut with a soft creak behind me, causing me to stiffen. As I turn around, I pause. Photographs of me lie spread out on the floor like a sea of deception and lies.
Too many to count.
