“Don’t try my patience, Henrik, we agreed when this all started that we would be as one; the aim the same, and they would all pay,” she says, through blood stained teeth; spit flies from her mouth. It lands on the ground before her; seeping into the brown clay of the earth. Words still try to form in his head, as Becky’s blood soaks into his shoe, mixing with the urine that runs down his leg. Her cries and screams, still ringing in his ears.
“Are you even paying attention to me?” She says, releasing Becky’s lifeless corpse, and shoves him. He swings towards her, out of surprise more than anything else, catching her in the jaw with the butt of his blade. She staggers away in shock, clutching her face, “What the fuck?”
“It’s wrong, I didn’t think killing them was part of the plan,” he says, grabbing the blade of his knife in his hand. It cuts deep into his flesh, and his face twists momentarily with the pain. He relaxes as he feels the warmth of his blood run through his fingers. He stares as it drips towards the red, muddy earth; stained by several liters of Becky’s blood.
“And what fighting amongst ourselves is right? They treated us like shit. I’m the only one who ever gave anything to you, and you—what? You think these pieces of shit deserve another chance to do worse?”
“It’s not like that; it’s just wrong. Becky was nasty, horrible, a down right bitch to me, but she never did anything worth killing her for, she just saw life differently!”
“You’re a fool, they saw you and me as weak, pathetic people, and thought the Sun shined out of their own arse holes. She learned the true nature of the beast, and those pieces of shit will be next,” she says thrusting her arm outwards; her knife pointing at the three bound and gagged people a few feet away. He looks towards them, seeing the fear and terror in their eyes, “They all have to die, and if you don’t have the gall to help me kill them, then you’ll leave me no other choice!”
“What? You’ll kill me as well?”
“If it has to be that way, then I will.”
He looks up at her twisted, blood drenched face. The hate in her eyes is unlike anything he has ever seen in her before; eyes that once conveyed ecstasy, as they were wrapped in one another’s arms—naked, pure, joined. He takes a step towards her, releasing his grip on his blade, and it drops to the ground.
“It doesn’t need to be like this, let them go, they’ve suffered enough.”
She looks over at them, and then back to Henrik. Her face softens, her eyes well up, and she rushes to him. He feels the knife pierce his chest, and then catches a glimpse of something falling to the ground. It lands with a discernible “splat.” Initially, he thinks it’s a bird, but it lacks feathers or a beak. Realization dawns on him as it quivers—broken and bleeding. He feels emptiness inside.
She walks away; unconcerned after having just ripped his heart from his chest. His hand reaches out towards her, words try to escape his lips, but everything gives way as he crashes to the ground. She looks over her shoulder; his dead, empty eyes stare at her. Tears stream down her cheeks. Reality drags her quickly back as their muffled cries scream out. She wipes the bloody dagger on her once white dress, tilting her head as she looks at them; waiting, watching, terrified. She places the blade to her mouth, shushes, and smiles.
“Don’t be afraid, it’ll all be over soon.”