Page 87 of Nightshades

The ladies fall silent, causing a crooked grin to tilt my mouth when not only Becca’s fear skyrockets, but Christina’s too.

“You heard it that time, right? Right, Christina? I’m not losing my mind because I killed someone?”

Christina’s heart rate kicks up a notch. “I heard it. Stay here, Becca. I’ll go check it out.”

Oh, this should be fun. I’ve never had them come to me before. I’m standing directly behind the van, but the windows are so tinted that they aren’t able to see me standing just in their rear view.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Reasons like me is why windows should never be so dark.

“No, what? Are you kidding? You can’t go out there. We are safer in here. Where he, it, whatever, can’t get us.”

Sweet little Becca, in the van, out of the van, it doesn’t matter. Nothing will stop me from killing them. Not even a weak lock on a 1998 van that has seen much better days.

“It’s probably some kid being an asshole.” A familiar click of the safety turning off has me blowing out the rest of the smoke and tossing the butt of the cigarette on the ground, then stomping it out with my foot.

“Don’t go out there. You’re going to get yourself killed,” Becca warns.

And how right she was.

“Look at this gun,” Christina says, then I hear the twisting of metal. “And this silencer? No one will hear a thing, and this person will be so afraid, I won’t even have to pull the trigger. They will run away. I probably won’t even fire it.”

I hope she does. I do miss the taste of gunpowder.

If there is one thing I will never do, it’s run away.

“Don’t. Don’t go,” Becca begs, her pathetic attempt to save her friend. “I don’t like the sound it’s making.”

“It?” Christina cocks the weapon. “It’sa person, Becca. That’s all.”

Debatable.

Becca begins to cry. Soft cries, nothing loud or dramatic. The kind of cries that are full of the kind of emotions that get my dickhard. Becca’s fear is so strong, so potent, that her cries can barely form sounds. The air becomes so thick, I could swim through the hot waves of the horror-drowned ocean.

“It didn’t sound like a person,” Becca whispers just as Christina opens the driver’s side door.

“La-lala-la-la-laaa,” My voice deepens, allowing the nightmare to peek through.

“Don’t go! Didn’t you hear it again?” Becca screams.

“Yes, and it is pissing me off.” Christina climbs out of the van, and I’m disappointed with how loud she’s being.

Her feet are heavy with every step, kicking dirt, rushing to me.

I stand there, leaning against the back of the van, and it groans from my weight, the bumper touching the ground while the front tires lift in the air.

Becca screams so loud, I hear a blood vessel pop.

The fear is quite delicious.

“Stand up! Stand the fuck up! Or I swear to fucking God, I will kill you! Put her down!” Christina shouts, threatening me with the gun.

I stand, and the van crashes onto the ground, Becca still screaming for her dear life.

“Get out of our way so we can leave, and I promise I won’t shoot you. I only want to leave town,” Christina tries to bargain with me.

“I can’t do that. See, you’ve done something very.” I step forward. “Very.”

She inhales a sharp breath, thrusting her weapon forward. “Don’t come closer.”