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Chapter 3

May-Martha

“May? May, open up! It’s me.” Gus knocked against the locked door of my room, impatiently waiting for me to let him in. I hesitated before unlatching the many locks as he burst into the room, his face red and sweaty, as if he’d been running for hours. I could tell something was wrong by the look plastered across his face.

“Gus?” I gently grabbed his arm, helping him to the bed as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s happened? What is it? Gus, what’s wrong?” He struggled to speak, panting as he looked at me, his eyes soaked in fear.

“The Grouch,” he wheezed. “He’s killed again.” My heart sank at his words. “He… Fuck, he brutally murdered the old man who works down at the printing press. There’s blood everywhere. Everywhere! The whole place is a bloodbath, May. Fuck, and he—” he gagged, “he used the old man’s blood to leave a message on the wall right next to his corpse.” He painted the most disgusting, sickening image as I tried not to imagine what he must’ve seen.

He left a message? Another one? My face burned with fear, wondering what it must say.

“What is it?” Gus rubbed his face, struggling to control his temper. “Gus, what did the message say?” He looked at me, his expression stone cold.

“He’s coming for Cindy.”

“Cindy? The reporter?” He nodded. “But why?” Cindy never did anything to him.

“My guess is he didn’t like the piece she did with his mother. So, naturally, he’s targeting her. A bit extreme, if you ask me, to want to kill someone over a fucking article. But then again, that monster isn’t just someone. He’s an abomination.” Gus spat on the floor, grumbling to himself. I hated when he called him that.

If the Grouch was going after Cindy, I needed to warn her, and sooner rather than later.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, and I’ll run down and get you something warm to eat?” Gus eyed me closely before nodding, leaning back on my bed.

“Get me some water real quick, will you?”

I offered a forced smile, stepping to my dresser as I poured him a glass, facing away from him. Without drawing attention, I carefully retrieved a small pouch from my corset and dumped the powdery contents into his glass, waiting until it fully dissolved. My eyes stared back at their reflection through the mirror, and I found no sympathy for what I was about to do to him.

“Here you go,” I chimed as I turned, handing him the water, watching as he raised it to his lips.

Yes, drink it all, you fucking pig.

I waited until there wasn’t a drop left before grabbing my coat and rushing to the door. I stopped and spoke to him over my shoulder, my voice low and gentle. “Sleep well.”

“I’m wide awake, May. Just…hurry back with the-the food—” He slumped over onto the bed, sunken into a forced sleep. I shut the door behind me and quickly made my way out of the brothel, down to the snowy street.

Thank God for fucking drugs.

Cindy wasn’t far from the brothel, working her usual night shift at the bar around the corner. I carefully ducked inside the smoky building, brushing the snow off my jacket as I approached the heavily tattooed woman behind the counter, her blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail as she tossed her dish rag over her shoulder and turned to face me.

“What can I get you—” Her smile dropped as she recognized me. “Well, if it isn’t the infamous May-Martha. Tell me, did you finally run out of dicks to ride in that brothel and decide to come down here and give us ladies a try?” Cindy winked, leaning forward as her breasts pressed against the top of the bar.

“If only women paid to fuck me,” I teased.

“Nah, us ladies don’t have to pay for sex. Forcing people to fuck us with fake smiles until we leave the room—that’s what men do.” She sucked her teeth, looking at my outfit. “So, are you still dealing with Gus?”

“Unfortunately. You know he’s always taken an extra liking to me. Thankfully, I have a little friend that makes it bearable.” I lifted the small bag from between my breasts as she smiled.

“Drugging the head of Whoreville’s finest? Classy,” she laughed while I stuffed the bag back into its hiding spot.

“What about you? Why are you still slinging drinks down here if you’re reporting? Need someone to fill your position? I wouldn’t mind bartending, you know?” I was envious of her job—fuck, all, really, wishing I had anything instead of my current one. Sadly, it was all I could find. After what happened, no one in this town trusted me.

“Having the infamous May-Martha serving drinks would bring in more business,” she chuckled. “But, unfortunately, I got bills to pay. Reporting for that newspaper and writing articles may seem promising, but they only pay so much. A real hit or miss.”

“I hear that. Gus has every other person here terrified to visit me. He doesn’t exactly like the idea of sharing. Don’t get me wrong, he pays well, but playing favorites isn’t exactly good for business.”

“Gus has been possessive of you for as long as I can remember. Especially with that Grouch.”

This was the moment. “Hey, speaking of—just curious, but back in the day, did you ever interact with the—” I stopped, hating the words that were about to come out of my mouth. “The Grouch?”

“The Grouch?” Her brows pressed inward as she tried to think. “Can’t say I have. Outside of my friends, the only person I really interacted with was…” Her words trailed off, her eyes focusing on a deep thought as she began to pour me a shot of whiskey.

“Who? Who, Cindy?” I pressed.

“Ah, no one. I mean, we were kids and it was years ago. It probably has nothing to do with him. It’s nothing worth bringing up.” She bent down, messing with things beneath the bar.

“Maybe, but…I’ve come to warn you, Cindy.”

“Warn me?” She scoffed, sitting up with a glass in her hand as I leaned in close.

“The Grouch. He’s…he’s killed. Again. Only this time, it seems your words really set him off. He didn’t like what you wrote about him in the paper, and now, he’s coming for you.”

Her face froze as the color slowly drained from it.

“Me? Over the article quoting his mother? Seriously?” She slammed the cup down, shattering the base. “Fuck,” she groaned. Cindy began to clean up the broken glass. “My dad warned me to stay out of journalism. I should’ve listened, followed in his footsteps and worked at the fucking post office just like he wanted!” She froze, wiping her forehead. “What am I going to do, May?” I could feel the fear in her voice.

“I’ll let you know when I figure that out myself.” I picked up the shot glass, shooting the whiskey as it burned my throat.

“Yourself? Did he threaten you too?” she asked. I nodded.

“The night they found that couple in the street outside the brothel? Well, turns out, he left me a note.” I pulled the bloodstained paper from my coat, slapping it onto the bar before she picked it up and read it. “I think I might’ve even seen him watching from the shadows across the way.” I grabbed the bottle of whiskey, pouring myself a second shot.

“No shit? Is he as frightening as they say? I mean, we all knew him as kids, you more than anyone else, but that was ages ago.” I took the second shot, pouring myself a third as she watched me with a raised brow.

“Don’t know. I only saw his eyes. But there was this eerie, familiar cackle I recognized, this almost child-like laughter, except when hearing it, it shot a shiver down my spine. It was the strangest, creepiest thing.” Cindy watched me as I rubbed my temples, trying to forget.

“Max,” she whispered beneath her breath.

Max?

The name sounded familiar, but Cindy’s expression told me there was more to the story.

“Who’s Max?” I drank the third shot, slamming the glass onto the bar with a groan.

“She was this kid we went to school with, but she was younger than us. She had copper-colored hair and green eyes, dark freckled skin, striking features. She was always following people around, searching for a friend. But she was weird as fuck, May. She would always pick fights with the bigger kids, begging them to hit her and stuff. And when they did, she’d laugh through it all with that creepy-ass cackle. I’ll never forget the sound. I’ll admit, I may have bullied her from time to time, but May, the girl was fucking crazy. I remember one day, me and some friends were pushing her around when he showed up. He threatened to hurt us if we didn’t leave her alone. He scared the shit out of me then; I can only imagine how he looks now. After that, he and Max seemed to have this… thing where she followed him around like a lovesick puppy, always hovering and hanging off him at school. And he just let her, even though he looked miserable the whole time. I’m surprised you don’t remember her. Truthfully, I always thought he would snap one day and hurt her, but he never did. I guess since she liked him, she was the one person he didn’t hate. Well, besides you, of course.”

Faint memories of her flashed across my mind. I’d seen her prancing around him at school, but I tried to keep my distance around the other kids. “After what happened when we last saw each other, I’m sure he hates me more than anyone else.”

Cindy scoffed at my words.

But why Max?

“Not more than Gus,” she taunted. “I’ve never seen two people hate each other more than them.” I shot her a look as she quickly changed back to the previous subject. “The day the Grouch took off, after everything happened, I remembered seeing Max. She wandered off into the woods and never came back. I guess she must’ve followed him and has been living up there with him ever since. Shit, those two are probably up in that cave of his, keeping each other company, as we speak.” I shuddered at the idea of them together. “Look, I’ll try to be careful. But May, if anyone should be scared of that monster, it’s you. You broke him. You and Gus.” Cindy patted my hand. “I would be extra cautious if Max really is involved with him. She’s psycho, May. If she’s anything like the child she once was, you’re fucked. The only thing she cares about is him, and you, my friend, are the only person in her way of having him all to herself.”

I exhaled, my spine tingling, as if someone was watching me. I scanned the bar, searching every face, but to no avail. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I couldn’t shake the feeling.

“I think I need a stronger drink.”