The Cunning (Book 1/2)

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98

“Where’s Madison gone?” Janine asked,

“Back upstairs,” Jase replied, lighting a cigarette. He was halfway through it when Kieran rushed over.

“Jase, I went to the bathroom and I could hear screaming from Madison’s room. The door’s locked-” Jase didn’t let him finish as he launched off of his chair, Sam in tow. But when they got to the door, there were no screams that Kieran had spoken of. Instead, there was an eerie silence. The low bass of the music pounding through the floor.

Jase put the key in the lock. Nothing could brace him for what he saw. Behind him, Sam’s lips parted but he was unable to find any words. Charlie was half on the bed, half off. His clothes soaked in blood. Madison was covered in it too, splattered all over her face and Jase’s white t-shirt. She was breathing heavily. Her knuckles white from how tightly she was holding the switchblade.

“Fuck me, you sure know how to make a mess.” Jase said quietly, taking in the scene. Madison didn’t look over at him. She was just staring down at the body. Her hair was red and clumped together, sticking to her face. She had a lit cigarette between her fingers.

“He took it too far,” she replied, her words barely audible. “I’m tired.” The boys didn’t move as she climbed off of the bed next, standing in front of Jase. She placed the switchblade down on the desk, taking a drag on the cigarette. They just stared at each other. Jase wasn’t sure what to say. Madison was almost too calm. The kind of calm he was when he killed someone. The uncaring, callous boredom filling her eyes. Most girls would be freaking out about being coated head to toe in claret but then, he knew by now that Madison wasn’t most girls. Charlie had made a grave mistake and it had cost him heavily.

“You might want to clean that up before he soaks through to the mattress,” she said, stepping past Sam and going into the bathroom. Neither of the boys moved until they heard the bathroom door lock.

“Kieran, get everyone out,” Jase said calmly after a few seconds of staring at Charlie’s limp corpse.

“I’ll get the tarp,” Sam mumbled. Jase lit another cigarette. He hated cleaning.

The house was emptied within the hour, Sam was laid the tarp out on the floor.

“She really went to town on him,” Jase said, taking in the sheer amount of blood splattered everywhere as he leaned his lower back up against the desk. He’d have to paint and re-carpet the whole room.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, staring at Charlie. Jase nodded at the body.

“The stab to the neck would have finished him off in about two minutes but the entire right side of his throat is shredded and then she’s carried on all over his back. That takes a lot of adrenalin.”

“What does that mean? The overkill?” Sam questioned. Jase looked at him, taking a drag on his cigarette and exhaling the smoke from the corner of his lips.

“Means she had to be pretty fucking angry,” he sighed.

“Where did she even get the knife?”

“I sleep with one under my pillow,” Jase mumbled, helping Sam move the body onto the tarp.

“Why?”

“In case she tries to kill me,” he replied simply.

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