Page 78 of Sinister Legacy
Dad puts the carving knife in my hand before closing his long fingers around mine. “Now, a good blade will slice through meat like it’s butter.”
We saw off a chunky piece together, and I smile wide when it flops onto the plate.
“There’s a good girl. Let’s do a couple more.”
Dipping the scissor blade into his belly button, I channel some forgotten darkness I have forced down and stifled for too long in order to fit in.
“That’s it, baby girl, let’s put some force behind it.”
I press down gently at first. When he starts screaming like a squealing pig, I put my entire body weight behind it until the scissors sink deep into his gut. Daddy was right, it does slide through flesh like butter once the tough barrier has been broken. Unfortunately, these blades aren’t sharp, so I have to really bear down to cut through his flesh.
The plastic sheeting soon pools with blood that soaks through the fabric of my cloak. My fingers ache from the effort of cutting him open. All I manage are jagged cuts of flesh. I want to see what’s inside, like that time with the squirrel.
Mommy isn’t around to spank my butt this time.
Unknown number: I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I enjoyed watching. Now strip out of your clothes. All of them. Then step into the slippers by the door and walk back to your room, careful not to touch anything or brush up against any surfaces. Take a shower and don’t come out of your room until further notice.
Unknown number: If you fail to comply, Kit dies.
The warm water scalds my pale skin and turns it a bright pink, not so unlike the pink water swirling down the drain.
I stay in the shower until my fingertips resemble prunes and the adrenaline from what I just did wears off. And then I turn the temperature up even more to punish myself. I shouldn’t have enjoyed killing my stepdad. I shouldn’t have derived such perverted pleasure from it. I’m the true monster here, and it would seem the killer is playing dangerous mind games.
After washing my hair for a third time, I step out of the shower and dry myself off with a fluffy towel that smells of laundry soap.
As I enter my bedroom, wrapped in a towel, I stop to listen. The house is quiet except for the wind outside and the creaking of the floorboards beneath my feet. The music downstairs has fallen silent, and I wonder what will happen now. I was told to come in here and wait.
Now what?
I busy myself by getting dressed in my pajamas and drying my hair. I even read a chapter in a book before giving up because of the flashing images that assault my mind.
When I unlock my phone, I have a new text from Liam. I ignore it and dim the screen. He can fuck off for all I care. He stole my power from me when he made me dig my own grave and threatened to bury me in it if I go against him again, but I took it back tonight. I feel brand-fucking-new, and I guess I have a certain psychopath to thank for that.
My screen lights up again, and I breathe out a heavy sigh, swiping up my phone and expecting to see another message from Liam.
Unknown number: Kit is waiting for you outside the back door. You better hurry, he’s cold.
I fly out of bed and run so fast down the creaky stairs that I fall down the last three steps. My tailbone explodes in pain, but I’m back up on my feet, sprinting toward the living room.
I’m out of breath and breathing hard by the time I reach the patio doors and flick on the light outside. The cold air hits me in the face as I finally get the doors unlocked and step outside. I’m barefoot, and the pavement slabs are icy beneath the soles of my feet.
I take careful steps closer to the settee and slow to a halt when I step on something cold. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, body parts lead a path to the wicker chair that sits by the garden table.
As I step over a hand with each finger severed, my stomach cramps violently. But before I can make it any further, I double over and puke. Acid burns my esophagus on the way up, and my eyes water from the violent cramping. The air reeks of rotten flesh, decomposition, and feces. By the looks of it, Kit has been dead for days.
I played the devil’s game and lost.
And just like last time, I never stood a chance at winning.
Furious, I dig my phone out of my pocket.
Keira: You promised you wouldn’t kill him.
His response is immediate, and I can picture him smiling behind the creepy mask.
Unknown number: I lied.
Keira: Fuck you!
