Page 1 of The Chaos She Brings

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There’s No Way I’m Getting My Security Deposit Back

Tess to Carina: Help [unsent]

Tess

Howdoyouhidea dead body?

No, seriously. I’m actually asking. Because it’s not like I can google this shit. And I have one staring me right in the face.

Think, Tess.

Who do I know that might help? Or would know who to call?

It’s not like you can just text someone:Oh, hi! Sorry for the out of the blue message. Don’t suppose you’re any good at disposing of dead bodies? Also please don’t callthe police :).

I have the grand total of one friend.

She seems pretty resourceful.

But this?

Ah fuck it.

I need help.

Like, yesterday.

My boyfriend is a steaming pile of dog shit. Or is it ex-boyfriend? Late boyfriend? What do you even call someone who tried to kill you but ended up on the losing side of a fight with home décor?

He was nice. Sweet even. Or so I thought. Then he just fucking snapped.

Literally.

One minute, we were watchingBridgertonand fighting over who could have the leftover Chinese, then the next, he had his hands around my throat, and he was choking the life out of me. I couldn’t breathe as I clawed at his wrists, my face going red as I gasped for air.

And I thought to myself, I had two options: die, or make sure he did.

Someone else might’ve come up with an option three—call the police or try to de-escalate—but I’m not someone else.

So, I reached out and got my fingers around the closest object, which just so happened to be my favourite lamp. I swung it as hard as I could, the thing making a hollow thunk against his thick skull, and the bastard released me. But I wasn’t done. No, I slammed it down, again, and again, and again, and… you get the picture.

But in case you didn’t—blood and gore splattered everywhere.

Which means, when I said there was a corpse staring at me, that was a lie. Because his face is caved the fuck in. So, he’s not looking at anyone again.

I’ve been staring at his smashed-up brain for the last hour as I try to work out what the hell I’m supposed to do now.

There’s a strange calmness about me that would probably be concerning to most people. It’s not like I’m a seasoned killer—this is my first.

First, Tess? Really.

Let’s rephrase.This is myonlymurder.I have no plans to do it again.

Despite the unusualness, I don’t feel guilty. In fact, I’m not sure I feel anything other than the thudding of my heart in my chest as I desperately try to work out how the fuck I’m going to get away with this. I’m certainly not about to go down for murder when it washimthat started it.No thank you.

So, that leaves me with one option: call in my best friend.