Page 5 of The Night Shift

My eyes widen as I take in the gory scene in front of me. The horrifying, horrifying messIcreated. Me. With my bare hands. A life taken. I smell the blood. Metallic and tangy. I smell the victory. Exultant and worthless.

My breathing intensifies.

The body, lifeless and cold, lies sprawled on the floor. A cold wave of…something washes over me, and I force myself to breathe. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my eyes.It’s okay, Holly, I tell myself, forcing myself to calm down.He deserved it. He fucking deserved it.

I pull the bottle out of his neck and the red liquid flows out the gash, dripping to the ground and staining it red. A flicker of light from a streetlamp catches on the glass bottle, momentarily showing me my reflection and another quick strangled laugh leaves my mouth.

I look like myself, but I’m somebody else. The blood continues to pump from his neck. Thick and maroon. It pools around his head like an oil slick. My breath saws in and out and slowly but surely, a sort of calm encases me.

I kneel next to his head like a cat. There’s blood smudged on the hem of my dress. I’ll have to get it dry-cleaned. My fingers drift towards the gaping wound on the man’s neck, an almost involuntary reaction, and I stick two fingers in. The hot, velvetytexture envelops my skin, a pleasing contrast to my usual sterile world and for a moment, everything fades to black.

The world seems to slow down. The only sound is my ragged breathing and the thud of my heart against my ribs. This taste of fear is intoxicating. Wait. Is it fear? No. No, I don’t think so. It’s not that familiar, suffocating sensation around my neck. This feeling is something sharper. Something cleaner. A thrill that vibrates beneath my skin like a live wire.

I swirl my fingers inside the man’s wound, delighting in the thick, liquid resistance. The vibrant color engulfs my fingertips, painting a grotesque mockery against my freshly manicured green nails.

The wound gurgles and squishes. The metallic scent of his dirty tainted blood fills the air like a grim perfume. This should be repulsive, I should find this gross, but instead, it's strangely intoxicating. Gratifying. I feel…powerful. In control. I feel everything and nothing at all, all at once. It’s hard to put this feeling into a single box. All I know is that I don't want it to end.

I look into the man’s eyes. Empty and hollow.Fucker. He got what he deserved. I don't feel guilty. Not really. He hurt me and now the scales are tipped. There's a twisted sense of justice in that, a warped logic only I understand.

My heartbeat slowly stabilizes. Tranquility. I feel like I’m flying. Floating. All I feel is bliss. Victory. No guilt.

No guilt.

No guilt.

No.Guilt—

“H-Holly?”

I turn around.

Camille stands at the opening of the alley. “Oh my…God…” She’s staring at the body with wide eyes and a pale face. “I…I saw him leave right after you did…I came to check…if…if you…”

Her voice is so gentle. I think she’s genuinely concerned for me.

I wipe my bloody fingers on the side of my dress and stand up.

I don’t know what to say. How do I get out of this? I don’t think I can. I don’t think I want to. It’s a little funny. I didn’t even mean to kill him. It sort of just…happened. Too easy. Too tempting. And it felt so good. It still does. Like the aftershocks of a powerful earthquake. I want to do it again.

Camille licks her lips and takes a slow deep breath. She takes a step forward and grabs Dead Man’s legs. “Grab his arms,” she tells me.

Her expression is entirely unreadable. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it sure as fuck wasn’t that. We lift his limp and heavy body and move it next to the dumpster, before putting him down to take a break.

“Um, Holly?” Camille says, panting and wiping a sheen of sweat off her forehead.

My pulse speeds. Shivers spread. My heart stutters. “Yes?”

She swallows once. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

This is it. She’s going to turn me in. She’s going to call the cops and I’m going to spend the rest of my life behind bars for killing a man who absolutely deserved to be killed. Fucking brilliant.

A full-body shudder runs through me as I raise my eyebrows to say, “go on.”

A minute passes. Maybe two. Camille just shrugs. “Think I can get your last name now?”

I see your morally grey man and raise you a morally grey woman.

Chapter 1