Page 8 of Terror Tuesday

“Holy shit!” Hunter yells breathlessly.

When I open my eyes, all I see is red.

Searing crimson life force gushes from Bryce’s neck as his mouth opens like a silent screaming maw. His legs shake as he clutches at the offending forearm as it slices his neck from ear to ear until he can struggle no more and slumps to the ground, falling face first in front of me.

The wail never fully leaves Hunter’s throat before it drowns in a gurgle. A wet, sticky sound, like the last squeeze of a ketchup bottle, erupts from Bryce’s neck. Something warm splatters across my lips. The metallic tang is instant. My stomach turns. I blink at Bryce as his body convulses on the dark concrete. Fingers twitching. Eyes glossy, like he’s watching something only he can see.

Hunter struggles to step back. His pants surround his ankles, preventing him from moving. Perhaps my fingers dangle to try to reach for him, my arm only dripping with the leftovers of what was Bryce Holloway,Betasenior.

Like a horror film, I squat in awe at the scene I behold. It feels like a movie. I’m not really here anymore.

Not when the masked man floats behind Hunter and slices his neck open without struggle, my boyfriend’s life draining in waves all over my once sparkling gold designer dress. Those stains won’t ever come out.

My hair clings to my skin, soaked with blood. Muscles ache in a way they never have, and I’m sure bruises will speckle my knees. Some of Hunter’s cum has mixed in with the other remnants.

As I glance at the bodies of the two men lying in front of me, part of me thinks of making a round of riotous applause. The curtain has closed, and the act has ended.

But then reality sinks in.

I think my boyfriend is dead.

And the figure standing over me in black gazes upon me. When I look up, terror strikes like a branding iron. My hands raise defensively, as if that will stop him. “Please…no. Please, don’t hurt me.”

I know I should scream or run—do anything but submit—but the knife in his hand is mine. And the last shred of my strength drained away with Hunter’s final smile.

He’s still like a statue, other than a slight head tilt as if he’s concerned. Tears seep from my eyes, washing away some of the blurriness that was there before. The man squats to level his black mask close to me. I have nowhere to escape to. My back is against the wall.

This is it.

Never appointed. Died without succeeding. And my last moment of humiliation was all caught on camera.

Vanq flicks the knife closed and holds it up. “This isyourknife.”

I’m too breathless to respond, other than with a whimpered affirmation.

“And thatwasyour boyfriend. And his friend. Andtheirblood coating your pretty dress.” There’s a pause so long that I worry he’s going to open the blade and slice me open. My legs quiver with anticipation. “Yourcamera phone recording younot wantingto give them what they demanded.”

“Wh-what are you saying?”

He presses my weapon into my hand and stands. “Looks like Olivia Marie Cardell had a violent streak when she couldn’t take it anymore.”

Doom strikes my soul. If I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it just did.

He’s right. I could easily be wanted for their murders. I turn my father’s gift over in my hand.

“What do you want from me?” I manage to squeak out. If I look at him, I’ll die of anxiety. The beats of my heart aren’t even in rhythm anymore. Tension grows so long, I think of repeating myself, or just passing out. I’m dizzy.

“For you to run.”

A sharp inhale of air parts my lips as I slowly lift my head. Is he serious? When I don’t move, he says the only thing I need to hear before I spring into action.

“You were crafted to obey, weren’t you?” He leans in and lets the silence stretch until my lungs ache from holding my breath.

“Run, little caterpillar. Run before I decide you’re not ready to fly.”

three

My legs churn,propelling my body off the sidewalk. Throat raw and bare from screaming at the sound of a figure following me. Is it Vanq coming to finish me off?