11. “Ta-da”

11

"Ta-da"

Camila

E very time he revs that chainsaw, I want to crawl up his body and fuck his face. I'm already bored with Kyle, and I just kind of need this execution to finish up so I can get under Demetri one more time before the night is over.

"Say the words." Harkins waits for my signal.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips before I release them. "Rip him open."

I have to clench my thighs together, watching the way the motor of the chainsaw forces his arms to vibrate. He's been wielding that thing all night, cutting men down like they're butter. His arms have to be killing him, but still, he holds it like it's weightless.

I'm going to marry him, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him. There's a brief feeling of guilt that I don't deserve a happy ending because I'm not a good person. But fuck, if there are billionaires out there ignoring world problems they can solve with a quarter of their yearly revenue, then maybe I'm not really a villain.

"Please!" Kyle blubbers pathetically, kicking his legs at Harkins.

"Stay still, or I'll cut those off too." His voice is deep, laced with an authority that makes my skin hot. I reach for him, wrapping my fingers over his biceps.

He shifts his gaze down to meet mine, the foreheads of our masks clinking together for a moment before we both pull away. "I love you," I whisper.

"There's only you," he responds before turning his head back to Kyle. "Well, and that fucker, but that's not for long." There's a brief sound of grinding when it catches on Kyle's pants, and despite Demetri's warning, he still kicks out in an attempt to push the chainsaw away.

It catches on his shoe, the blade mangling his foot in the process before Harkins pulls it away. Kyle's blood curdling screams fills the room as he shakes in his restraints, vomiting on his chest.

The saw is clogged; Harkins has to turn it off and pull out pieces of rubber sneaker and bone stuck to the teeth and tangled in the chain. It only takes a minute or two, and then he's got it whirring again.

I'm holding onto his hands gripping the chainsaw tightly now, like I'm somehow helping or doing anything at all, but it's incredible to watch. It's the way the veins on his arms come to life, the way his muscles strain to contain the force of the chainsaw from kicking back at him. It's like watching fireworks, and when he slides that blade up the crease of Kyle's pants, it's practically the Fourth of July. He splits in half so easily, shaking violently against the wall with every inch the saw drags up his stomach. The blood doesn't drip—it falls to the ground, splashing at his mangled foot.

He pulls back, and turns to me again, yelling over the saw "Come here."

He extends his arm and pulls my back to his chest, bringing my hands to the chainsaw's handles between his. He closes me in, doing the majority of the lifting while my hands hang on to the power tool.

And then, the blade whirs, the chain moving with the purr of the motor. My entire body vibrates, my pussy humming with delight at the feeling. This is the most romantic moment of my life. Together we push the saw up, cutting through his crotch and stomach with far too much ease.

But the chainsaw chokes, stuttering and sticking right around Kyle's rib. Harkins presses the throttle, but there's only a silent click, the blade still fully embedded. "It's stuck," he states dryly, like that isn't obvious, ignoring the seizing and shaking of the body dying next to him.

"I'm sure one blade is only good for like two, maybe three murders max before it gunks up," I say with a nod, ducking out from under his arms so he can deal with the situation.

He yanks it back, but it's lodged in there pretty well, stuck somewhere inside the douchebag's guts. Kyle's dead as fuck, but he doesn't care; he revs the throttle, and somehow, it gets going again. Even through the roar of the chainsaw, though, there's a sound in the distance.

"Mila?" I spin halfway on my heels at hearing my name.

There's suddenly a colony of butterflies breeding and laying larva all over my stomach, an endless cycle of bug-fest cohabitating inside me, and it threatens to explode. Of course, I'm paralyzed, making eye contact with my best friend, who's naked and covered in blood. There's nothing but pure terror on her face as she watches Demetri finish slicing Kyle in half. I turn my head his way when he splits, both pieces dangling there, still hanging from the shackles on the walls by his broken wrists.

The room shrinks in size, and I can't breathe under the mask. I'm suffocating and her expression doesn't change, doesn't tell me what's on her mind and I'm mere seconds from losing my shit. I lift the mask over my forehead, confirming what she already knows.

She says nothing; the pale look on her face says it for her.

I'm nervous, anxious that maybe this was a mistake. "Ta-da!" I shout, gesturing at Kyle with both my arms in a grand gesture.

"You killed him." She's not asking, she's declaring, her voice small and shaky.

"For you," I clarify. "I did it for you ."

"W-what?" She hasn't looked at me yet, her eyes still glued to Kyle, and I'm honestly a little annoyed that, even in death, this asshole still comes between us.

She takes a step back into the hallway, her gaze darting over to the direction she came from.

"Y-you killed other people too?" Naya thinks I don't notice her leg moving back slowly into another step.

She's getting ready to run.

"You're missing the point, Naya." I gesture more aggressively toward the hanging halved corpse. "I killed him for you." I smile, but she doesn't return it.

The butterflies in my stomach die, letting me know there's nothing good left to come.

"Don't do it, Naya." I warn her with a slow shake of my head, repeating myself on a whisper. "Don't do it."

She glances into the empty hall, and I can see it on her face.

My best friend is gone.

There's nothing but fear in her voice when she asks, "Do what?"

"Don't make me kill you." I'm not sure if I speak the words, or if she even hears them.

She takes off, but I'm ready, ax in hand as I chase after her. My lungs burn, but sheer need for self-preservation pushes me forward. I lunge for her, falling into her, both of us rolling on the ground.

"Mila, stop!" she cries, kicking me in the chest.

But I can't. I hit her with my free hand and shove her back down. "I did this for you!" I think tears fall from my eyes, but there's too much of Kyle's blood still splattered across my face for me to tell.

She claws at me, tearfully screaming the words. "I didn't want this!"

I'm on top of her now, straddling her naked body, both of us crying, Naya still trying to push me off with one hand. That's when I notice the other, disfigured, broken, bent in a weird shape, and three different shades of blue already.

"I did it for you." I shake my head with a final sob, sending the blade of the ax into her temple.

There's an expression on her face even as she lays there, mouth open and eyes staring lifeless under me.

Heartbreak, maybe?

No, it's just fear.

The broken heart is mine, and with it shattered, there's nothing to contain what's left of me.

The nausea spills in a violent rush, all I can do is turn my head to the side and let it out. It feels unending, and soon, I'm dry heaving, only bile left, yet my stomach still forces it out.

And then, I hear the wailing, the broken sobbing of a woman who has lost everything, of a woman who has nowhere left to go but hell.

It's my own.

I'm no longer aware of my surroundings, in a bubble of my own creation as I viciously pound on Naya's chest with my fists, like it'll somehow bring her back to life. Then, I'm lifted off her corpse, wrapped in a tight embrace and held against a hot body. He just sits there, rocking me back and forth, his hand brushing my hair in an attempt to soothe my bludgeoned heart.

He's mumbling in my ear, something soft, but my cries are louder, and there's no way to stop the noise. "Baby, please. Please." I barely make out his pleas. "Shh, shh, baby."

There's fear in his voice for the first time tonight, but no part of me can stop this. It's autonomous, and it won't end until it needs to, until I feel it all.

He kisses the top of my head, just holding me, letting me grieve.

Grieve for her, and for who I'll never be again.

His hold on me only loosens when we hear a clamoring in the distance, deep in the darkness. I'm choking on my sobs, hiccupping through a loud deluge of tears that keep me prisoner, keep me drowning, but Demetri's head spins.

"I hear a girl." The sound of a man's voice at the end of the hallway pulls my attention.

I look at Harkins, only unease in his expression, and when I follow his line of sight, I see why. Four inmates walk toward us from the stairwell, the faded orange of their jumpsuits enough to guarantee these guys weren't civilians or haunt actors. Demetri is on his feet in seconds, pulling me up and holding me to his side.

He's got my ax in one hand and the chainsaw next to him, but there's no way in hell we can take four inmates at once, not without all of the chaos and distractions to make it easier. Not when they're coming directly for us.

"I need you to run and hide, Camila." He pulls me behind him.

"N-no, I'm not leaving you." I cling to him, shaking my head, even though I know he hasn't taken his eyes off the inmates.

"This isn't like the others. I can't protect us both." He turns to me, grabbing my face in his hands.

The wild look in his eyes fills me with dread, but I know there's nothing I can do to change his mind. No mistakes, and I already made the biggest one by leading them down here with my crying. The kiss is painful, consuming all of me, squeezing my heart in a vise as his lips seal over mine. His tongue invades my mouth for only a brief moment, only to remind me what he tastes like.

I'm lost in it, submerged in the feeling of being loved by him, when I feel his hand shove at the center of my chest. "I'm sorry," he mouths out, shutting the iron door as I fall inside the dark room.

My heart thunders, racing in my chest a million miles an hour. The chainsaw roars, and I lose all reason, pulling at the handle, screaming bloody murder and yelling his name. "Open the door!" I hit it with my shoulder, once, twice, and then I step back a few feet to get a running start.

But it's an iron door, and there's no way out.

I'm in solitary confinement.

My breathing is heavy, frantic and choppy as panic floods over all my senses, and the room is cold, so cold that I can see it forming in front of me with every exhale.

"Mila." I hear my best friend's voice calling behind me.

"No. No. No." I cup my ears with my hands and squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the side of my body to the iron door.

And the chainsaw keeps going.