The Kill

Bridget pulled into her driveway and parked the car in the garage. It seemed dim and upon visual inspection, she noticed one of the bulbs was out. Bridget swung her legs out of the car and let Lidia into the house.

“Wow,” Lidia muttered, her voice betraying astonishment. “This is yours.”

“Um,” Bridget replied, unsure if Lidia had asked a question. “Yes.”

“Such a nice kitchen, I’ve always wanted an island.” Lidia looked around with the wonder of a child.

Bridget laughed to conceal her annoyance. She had brought Lidia here to die and dallying in the kitchen was not part of the plan. Bridget almost felt incensed that Lidia was getting sidetracked by a kitchen when sex was supposed to be on the menu.

Almost as if she could sense it, Lidia refocused her attention on Bridget. “But we’re not here for kitchens,” she said, attempting seduction.

Bridget barely had time to agree before Lidia’s lips met her cheeks. Somewhat dazed by the forcefulness, her only reaction was to lift her arms up and place them around Lidia. Bridget let out a schoolgirl giggle and guided Lidia upstairs towards the kill room.

“Here,” she said, pointing to the door to the guest room.

Lidia peeked into the room and saw the emptiness inside. “Not a bedroom?” she complained.

“This is my, uh,” Bridget stalled. “Messy room.” She felt proud of the lie she came up with, and even convinced herself it wasn’t false. “Let me go get some toys,” Bridget said as she placed a hand on Lidia’s arm.

“Ooh,” Lidia squealed. “I’ll get myself ready.” She happily walked into the last room she’d ever see.

Bridget waited outside the room for a moment. She had hid her favorite companion on the desk in the hall right next to the kill room. After a quick moment, Bridget grabbed her pommeled dagger from its hiding place and held it behind her back. She walked to the open door of the room and peered inside.

Lidia had stripped down to only her bra and underwear and was sitting down on the couch in a pose nobody would have called sexy. A stupidly large grin made its way into her face when she saw Bridget appear in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Come here, sexy,” Lidia said, a little too excitedly.

Bridget sauntered into the room, still wearing the kill clothes she wore to the bar, with a hand behind her back, hiding the pommeled dagger. She held her head down slightly with her eyes pointed up towards Lidia, as if sheepishly inviting her for an embrace.

Lidia accepted the summons; she stood up from the plastic wrapped couch and grabbed Bridget’s head for a passionate embrace, her other hand snaking up Bridget’s belly.

Bridget separated a moment and whispered in Lidia’s ear. “Turn around.” The sense of impending release overwhelmed Bridget. She had her prey perfectly positioned, unaware; ready. As Lidia turned, Bridget kept her empty hand on the other side of her prey’s body and brought out the dagger. She braced her victim and plunged the dagger into Lidia’s back, splitting between two ribs and piercing her heart.

Blood splattered from both sides as Bridget pushed the full length of the blade until the hilt pressed against flesh. A short yelp escaped from Lidia before she fell limp in Bridget’s hands. The metallic smell of blood peppered Bridget’s nostrils with its familiar tang. She knelt and laid her victim gently on the floor with motherly care. Bridget felt the cloudy corruption of Cole’s antics leaving her mind until a terrifying sound snuck into her ear: a gasp.

The trajectory of the sound told Bridget whoever had gasped was standing in the door, encroaching on her ritual. She reached for the blade she had beneath the couch and spun to throw it at the interloper. It was on the tips of her fingers when Bridget identified the invader as Peeks. She was horrified as the blade left her hand, sailing across the room, spinning, hanging indefinitely. Bridget was so wrapped up in her work, so focused that she had just reacted to the sound. She could see the confused and terrified look plastered over her friend’s statuesque face. The sound of a loud thud rang out and a second gasp was released into the room when Bridget saw the blade lodge itself in the door frame, just to Peeks’ right.

Peeks stood in place, her face long with fright and eyes wide in surprise, focused on the bloody body laying before her. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Her heart was beating loud enough for both girls to hear its steady, thunderous beat.

“Peeks,” Bridget muttered. She stood up, hands hanging at her side with open, welcoming palms. Bridget had been caught before, but never by someone close. Those cases were easy; another body joined her collection of catharsis. “Peeks,” repeated Bridget. Sorrow swept over her, as the thought of having to kill her friend loomed heavily. Yet her friend had no words, no movement, just the same look of terror fixated on the woman laying in a pool of blood in the middle of the room. Bridget took a step towards the door.

“Is, is that the sword?” Peeks stammered.

Confusion overtook Bridget. “Sword?”

Peeks slowly raised a hand and pointed to the jeweled hilt. “That, the,” she said. Her head wiggled slightly as she closed her eyes to concentrate. “The gem. From your story.”

Bridget looked back at Lidia, still laying on her belly, lifeless and beginning to reek of death. “Oh,” she muttered, turning back to Peeks. “Yeah, from the other night.”

“Camping.”

Bridget gazed at Peeks’ face, still anguished over exposing her to this.

A modicum of life returned to Peeks’ voice. “Is it true?” she asked in morbid curiosity. “Are you him?” Peeks finally turned to look Bridget in her blood speckled face.

“Yes,” Bridget answered without hesitation.

The answer didn’t faze Peeks. “So, you.”

“Kill people,” Bridget interrupted. She could sense Peeks processing the scene and moved closer to console her.

Peeks took a step back, terror once again rearing itself as she recoiled from Bridget. Peeks warily eyed Bridget’s blood stained clothing.

Bridget looked down at herself and realized that the black and red was only successful at hiding blood stains to a point. She stripped off the clothes and cast them onto the rug and began to approach Peeks again.

Bridget’s nakedness seemed to ease Peeks and she allowed her bare friend to come close. An inexplicable comfort eased the stress within her as Bridget stood in the doorway, resting her head against Peeks’ shoulder in a long hug.

“Come on,” Bridget whispered, and walked them to her bedroom. They climbed onto Bridget’s bed and leaned on the pillows she kept lined up against the wall. “I’m sorry,” Bridget offered. “I’m sorry you had to see this.”