Page 76 of Sinister Legacy
My fingers tighten around the symmetric handles.
Keira: Scissors.
Unknown number: Interesting choice.
Keira: Cut the bullshit. What’s next?
Unknown number: Careful, unless you want me to hurt your friend again.
Another text comes through. At the same time, there’s a thud somewhere in the house.
Unknown number: Walk to your stepdad’s office.
The floorboards creak loudly beneath my feet as I pause.
Keira: Why?
Unknown number: Play the game, Keira.
Mustering up my courage, I walk out of the kitchen, past the stairs that lead up to my room. The dark hallway seems to stretch on for miles. I search the cold wall for the light switch, but the hallway remains creepily dark when I flick it.
A light floods the floor from beneath the closed office door, and haunting classical music drifts through behind it. I have never once known my stepdad to listen to that type of music.
Or any music, for that matter.
But now it plays, the crackling sound reminding me of a record player.
Tightening my grip on the dull scissors in my hand, I walk closer, as softly and as quietly as I can. All the while, the music plays.
I stop and listen outside the door. It’s the type of music that you would expect to listen to at a circus or a ghostly fun fair.
Icy shivers splash down my spine as I reach forward to curl my fingers around the curved, black, iron door handle. I push it open, the hinges creaking loudly. With bated breath, I take in the scene in front of me.
Plastic sheeting covers the room from top to bottom. It’s everywhere, not a single surface untouched except the ceiling.
As I step over the threshold, the plastic sheeting crinkles beneath my bare feet and sticks to my soles.
My stepdad is on the floor, naked, bound, and gagged.
Seeing such a powerful but dangerous man reduced to this sparks a tingle of excitement that starts at the center of my chest and spreads outward before settling at my fingertips. I stroke my thumb over the blade of the scissors in response.
Unknown number: If you want Kit to live, you need to unleash the monster inside you.
His next text message sends my heart into overdrive.
Unknown number: Kill him.
Kill him? What the hell? My eyes fly up to my stepdad, who’s lying with his neck craned and his wide, terrified eyes staring directly at me. I quickly type out a response, sweating beneath the mask.
Keira: I can’t kill someone.
Unknown number: It’s in your blood, Keira. You were born for this.
Unknown number: Think of how good it will feel to kill someone beneath the protection of someone else’s identity. You’re not Keira anymore. You’re the devil.
Unknown number: Should I cut off another ear as an incentive? Or maybe I should let your mom be my next plaything?
My heart skyrockets.
