Page 2 of F*ck Steal Kill

“How much more do we need?” Lacey asked, pushing the cart as she walked next to me.

“Ten thousand, four hundred, and twenty-two cents,” I answered automatically. Lacey sighed dramatically before nodding in acceptance, and I pulled out the master key card as she neared the next room.

“We’re getting closer,” Joy cheered, her shiny optimism a constant presence.

The three of us had a joint savings account where we put the majority of our earnings. We had plans to leave this town together and only needed a little bit more to make it plausible.

Patting her hand in encouragement, I grabbed rolls of toilet paper off the cart and followed Lacey into the Egyptian room.

The Secret Keep Inn wasn’t a five-star hotel, but what it lacked in high-class, it made up for in uniqueness and intrigue. Each room had a different theme, catering to a variety of fantasies.

And if there was one thing the Secret Keep Inn did well, it was to keep a secret.

“This dude was disgusting,” Lacey shouted from the bedroom. “Was he on our list? Because he should be.”

I glanced at the clipboard, trying to remember if Room 103 had made it onto the list the day before. “Christopher Roberts,” I mumbled, trying to recall. “I don’t think so.”

Looking up, I spotted Lacey standing in front of me with a used condom on the end of her pen.

“Eww! Why would you show me that?” I screeched, closing my eyes and stepping back.

“Because if I have to suffer, then so do you,” she teased.

“Whoa. The guy has an impressive cum load,” Joy said, peering closer at the used condom like a science experiment.

“Double eww, Joy! Just why?”

She shrugged, smiling at me as she went about cleaning the bedroom, singing softly to herself.

Joy might be the sweet one of the group, but she had a dark sense of humor, often finding delight in the obscure and macabre. And now, apparently, cum.

“And people think I’m the crazy one,” Lacey muttered, dropping the condom into the trash.

Regardless of how adamant Lacey was about the things people in town said about her, Joy and I knew differently. Lacey was sensitive despite her tough outer exterior.

“We all have our roles to play,” Joy hummed, twerking her hips as she made the bed.

Lacey and I shared a look, giggling to ourselves at Joy’s moves. She was right; the town had slotted us into our roles from an early age, and not much could change them. It made our bonds all the more special because they were authentic.

Peering into the depths of a person's soul and knowing what they were truly capable of was a rare gift few received. And the three of us, we’d all been there for each other at our darkest and most depraved moments, accepting them as who we were.

Some people bonded over books, others their favorite sports team or rock bands; for us, it was murder.

But like I said, the first time, it had been an accident. The many times that followed… Those had all been planned.

You might wonder how three girls from different backgrounds ended up murdering people.

And like most out-of-character things, it started as a game… as a fantasy.

Stuck in a touristy town with no escape, it was either find creative ways to pass the time or lose yourself to the madness. Because in Foolshope, the options for women were limited to marrying young, marrying rich, or…

Actually, that was it—just marriage.

And marriage, well, that wasn’t an option for the three of us for various reasons. Which was why we were still stuck in this town at twenty-eight, praying we didn’t become another statistic of Foolshope: divorced, drunk, or dead.

But not for much longer. We had a plan, and we were so close to leaving.

“Speaking of the list, who’s on the agenda tonight?” Lacey asked, fluffing up the pillows.

---