Chapter Twenty （Hazel Tries to Kill Baz Pt Deux）

CHAPTER TWENTY (HAZEL TRIES TO KILL BAZ PT DEUX)

HAZEL

There was so much asbestos in the ceiling of Verfallen. Something I knew because I was currently inside it. I crawled around, trying to not send a knee or elbow through the panels as I made my way towards Baz's room.

Today was the day. I could feel it humming under my skin. I'd planned this time. No more pulling out throwing knives and blindly tossing them into crowds. No more of his friends around to save him.

"Count your days!" I'd yell each mealtime, dragging a line across my throat. Baz usually waved back like I was telling him hello.

The past week I'd been half-assing my job. I felt detached. Gonzo had been missing and I'd had sex with Zero a few days ago and been avoiding him since. I had a lot on my mind. Each night I was spilling all my thoughts to Elvis in our nightly bath routine. His skin was becoming unmanageable after weeks of bath bomb soaks. Though it was likely the dead part that was affecting his skin more. Last night I attempted a sugar scrub, thinking it would help him out. Pro tip, abrasive stuff on a soft decaying body really didn't help them out. Maybe tonight I'd just take it all off—his skin that was.

Over half the people from group therapy were in the hydrotherapy baths now. It was our new meeting spot since they were incapable of making it to the circle time. I tried to listen to their problems but most of them didn't like to share—such a tight-lipped bunch. Corpses were so hard to make talk.

I climbed further across the ceiling, until I was sure I was above my brother's room. The sound of Baz singing Psycho Killer drifted up to the ceiling. I wiggled my fingers beneath the ceiling panel and delicately lifted up the edge to peer inside.

My eyes darted around the room, not seeing him. A moment later he came walking out of the bathroom, a small cloud of steam following him.

He had a towel wrapped low on his waist and not much else. My eyes bugged at the size of him. I'm not sure what I expected, something more boyish—thin, gangly, soft. He was filled out and cut down as if he was prepared at any moment for a fight or a photo shoot.

This wasn't the boy from the pictures I had. There were decades between him and that kid.

A towel was draped over his head, covering his face. He hadn't cut his hair, just like a phoenix. The little niggle of companionship tried to unearth itself inside me. He didn't cut his hair just like our family didn't. I could see long, straight hair plastered wet to his back. Then I remembered what he'd said in the hall. He didn't want a sister.

Green hair. Basilisk. Not like me.

He moved towards a wardrobe, reaching out to open it with one hand while his other hand moved to his hip towel as if he meant to rip it off.

Jesus Christ I was hidden in the ceiling while he was dancing around half naked. I needed to get out of here. I started to scramble as his towel started to drop. Asbestos dust got up my nose. I stilled, my eyes watering as my sinuses tickled.

" Mrreow ." I looked over and the orange cat was two panels over, flicking his tail. I shook my head but it padded over anyway. He rubbed himself across my shoulder and his tail tickled my nose.

I sneezed and it all went to shit. My limbs poked holes in the ceiling. The panels cracked in half and fell. I tried to keep myself up by grabbing onto the panel frames but I slipped, crashing in a glorious pile of broken tile and dust on Baz's bed.

I stared at the hole I'd just come from. The cat blinked at me and then ran away.

The full-grown basilisk standing at the edge of the bed had one red eye and one green eye peeking out from the shadows of the towel draped over his face. My eyes dipped down and all I saw was bare flesh.

"Hazel?" He asked. I remembered I could just kill him and no one had to know about this embarrassing experience. Except now we were in a small enclosed space together and he could kill me with a single touch.

I'd planned to throw daggers from the ceiling like a little murderous gnome. It's not like he could fly up to the ceiling and touch me. But now? Now I was on his fucking bed and he was still naked. Which wasn't just embarrassing, it was beyond dangerous.

"Why are you watching me through the ceiling?" He asked suspiciously.

"I wasn't—"

"Actually, this is a good thing." He rested his hand on the towel covering his head and for a moment I thought he was going to take it off but it stayed in place. There was a maddening curiosity to see his face.

"Put some fucking clothes on!" I hissed. He grabbed the towel he'd dropped on the floor and wrapped it around his hips again. Then his attention was back on me.

"Clearly my threat didn't work. Maybe we should just talk things out." The night he got his venom was flaring to life in my mind. Weirdly, my arm didn't ache with pain.

"Stay away from me!" I screamed, kicking my way higher up his bed. My hands flew for the knives around my waist. Baz held his hands up.

"Calm down. I don't want to kill you, okay? I don't want to kill anyone, actually."

"You killed Mom and Dad!" I rolled off the bed and onto the floor. The new plan was to get under the bed and then throw knives at his feet like a little murderous cat. Then, when he was hobbled, I could pop out and finish him.

My heart was thumping wildly and my hands felt numb. My body hit the floor and I rolled to my right, barrelling under the bed.

"That's not really a good place to go…" Baz said tentatively. My body hit someone else and I screamed and thrashed. Oh my god, one of his friends was hiding under here. I thrashed, fighting with the person's loose arms until I finally turned around and came face to face with a corpse.

Milky eyes stared at me. The cheeks were a little sunken, his mouth hanging open for me to see a dehydrated strip of red leather, the only thing left of his tongue. The rest of him looked preternaturally well-kept. There were black handprints on his wrists that veined out into dark green. It faded until a lighter green crawled up his neck. His face was caked in pain, his eyebrows tense, and his white eyes still displayed immense torture.

This wasn't just a dead body, it was Baz's dead body. It was filled with venom. I screamed.

"Ugh," Baz said. "Look, ignore that guy. He's an asshole and not a good indication of my inner feelings to not kill." I kicked at the body, flinging myself away from my fate in abject horror.

I scrambled out from under the bed, desperate to get away from the basilisk corpse. Was there still working venom in the body? Was I already fucked?

I leapt up and backed into the corner, my wide eyes on Baz who was approaching with his palms up like I was a wild animal he needed to pounce on before killing. I reached for my knife and realized I'd sunk it into the body under the bed. I saw the belt full of the rest of the knives on the floor, half under the bed. Fuck!

"Stop moving closer!" I gasped.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said. I was panicking, eyes darting this way and that to find an escape that gave me enough clearance around his body. I swore I could feel tingling over my limbs already. I had to get out of here.

And what if the rumors were true? Maybe his gaze alone could kill me.

"Don't look at me!" I gasped.

"Oh please," he sighed. "You know that's not true. Look," he hesitated suddenly, his hand on the edge of the towel over his face.

"Don't—" he started then groaned in annoyance.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't call me ugly," he said quietly in a rush. I sucked in a sharp breath. My heart was going to bleed for this bastard. Dad used to always call him ugly. Said his green hair and eye were disgusting, that he could barely look at him. Baz pulled the towel off and his red and green eyes looked at my red and yellow ones.

"You're not ugly," I said, letting the sisterly need to comfort him leak out in a rush. My eyes dipped to look at him fully.

"Eyes up here, sis. Don't make this weird." My eyes snapped up.

"Fuck you!" I hissed.

"Yeah I heard you were into that," he commented.

"I didn't mean it like that! What is wrong with everyone! Am I surrounded by crazy people!"

"Yes, you are surrounded by crazy people. Also, I'm fucking Doctor Orson so he told me about your therapy session."

"What!" I screamed.

"Funny story actually," he said, his mouth spreading in a handsome smile. "Sometimes you don't always pick the right hole and when there's three or more of you in a pile sometimes you start fucking the wrong person entirely." He began laughing.

"Shut up!" I wailed. I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to know anything about his sex life. He sent me a judgemental look. He was incredibly expressive, his thoughts painted clearly across his face. His wet, deep green hair was plastered to his jaw, neck, and shoulders.

"You aren't homophobic are you?" He asked me with narrowed eyes.

"What? No! I'm… fuck, I'm trying to kill you!"

"Oh, yeah. Because you can't fuck me, right? That's creepy."

"I do not want to fuck you. This is about mom and dad."

"Gonzo said it was about Uncle Vernon," he said, taking a step closer to me. I lost all sense of sanity. Whatever little bubble of safety I felt a moment ago popped and the panic was raining down hard. I screamed and flailed, leaping up on his bed and jumping back off as I made my way away from him in blind panic.

My hands scrambled for the wardrobe door. The exit felt too far away and impossible and there was a lock on the inside, something my room didn't have. I was likely locked inside here with him and I was going to die unless I got away. I shoved myself in the wardrobe.

"Why does everybody force their way in there?" He asked as I fought my way past clothes and slammed the door behind me.

"I really wish you would come out. There are uh, things in there you won't like. Plus, it might make it look like I go around killing a lot of people." That's about the time I realized I'd fought my way past black pants, and leather masks to be surrounded by two bodies that loomed beside me. They both fell forward, trapping me between them. My screams were undignified, scratching up my throat until it felt raw.

"I get the feeling this conversation would be better if we continued a little later," Baz said. I screamed some more. "Look, I really don't kill people all that often!" He yelled over my screams. "Twice a week tops is the average. Two measly times… on average!"

I screamed more. I heard something happen to the door. I reached out and tried to open it. I needed to get away from these bodies. I was terrified of their venom-touched skin and I watched as their faces morphed to look like my parents.

The door was locked. I thrashed and tried to force it open.

"What are you doing!" I gasped.

"You're clearly having a little episode. Better you stay in there and not accidentally kill yourself. Killing the entire Fury clan would be a bit of a bummer for me."

"Let me out!" I screamed. "They're in here with me!"

"Yeah, yeah. Be right back, you just stay tucked in tight. That's Frank and Harry by the way. I think they like being in the closet together," he whispered with a cackle before I heard him grunt through putting on clothes. Then I heard him leave the room with me still locked in the closet.

"Fuck him," I hissed. I kicked the wardrobe's door and turned around to glare at the corpses. They no longer looked like mom and dad. They looked like Frank and Harry, I guess. I sighed and rolled my eyes before reaching out and touching their faces. I made them smile, then I made them frown. Poor little closet corpses, looking all sad. I bet they'd like the hydrotherapy room better.

"She's in the wardrobe?" I heard a familiar voice. My heart rate kicked up. Gonzo .

"Yes, hurry and get her out before Bree comes by."

The door opened and light spilled in, blinding me for a moment. Hands grabbed me and dragged me out. Then I was flung over a muscular shoulder.

"You caveman," I hissed as he carried me from the room. My hands fisted his shirt in a tight grip, terrified he'd leave me here in Baz's room. I eyed my brother, fully covered up now—masked, gloved, and everything else. He leaned against his doorframe watching as Gonzo carried me into the hall.

"You know," Gonzo said, hesitating a moment. He twisted around to look at Baz. "This can't go on forever."

"If she keeps sneaking into my room to watch me change and accidentally touches me then it'll be over pretty fast," he replied. My face flamed.

"I was not peeping on you! I was going to kill you!"

"Uh huh," Baz said.

Gonzo turned and trotted off down the hall, his hands tight on my legs, making it clear he had no intention of letting me get away.

"Where have you been?" I asked.

"I was… having a moment."

"You abandoned me."

"Did you miss me, Hazel?" He teased.

"No."

"Because you have no idea how much I missed you," he growled. His hand slid up my thigh and squeezed.