Every night, the tension in the house seemed to get worst. As best friends, Chloe, Tiffany, and Merri had their issues. However, discord such as this was abnormal. They bickered often but never at this extent.
I’m so confused, she thought to herself. Tiffany rested her head in her palms and took three deep breaths.
Maybe she’s right.
Tiffany stayed at the kitchen table like this for fifteen minutes, repeating the same thought over and over in her head. She’d been called rude before, but never evil. But there was truth to that claim. She behaved monstrously, parading through life with little to no regard for the emotional wellbeing of those she damaged. Wasn’t that evil?
She eventually left the kitchen and went up the Two Doves’ narrow staircase. It was an old staircase, with worn paint and screeching planks. Where the hardwood shone once upon a time, it was now scratched and dull, as well as warped in certain areas.
Tiffany went up the stairs to her room on the opposite end of Chloe’s hallway. She stretched her arm behind her door to retrieve her bathrobe and shower toiletries. Tiffany then went back down the hall to the bathroom adjacent to Chloe’s room.
If only she had been paying more attention, or even just turned on the light, Tiffany could have possibly thwarted what was going to happen next. Standing in the corner was a shadowy shape, clinging to the darkness in the room. The dark figure had his moves all planned out; he had been watching Tiffany and her friends for quite some time. He dreamed about her; he obsessed about her; he stalked her. There had been numerous nights where he followed her back to the Two Doves’ and watched her through her window. He had been waiting months for this night to come. The night had been planned and re-planned by him and the guys. Things had to be done perfectly and silently. All evidence had to be covered up. The girls had to look as if they finished here and simply moved on: which meant no blood, no weapons. At least, not this time. A slow grin spread across his face.
Tonight was THE night. His initiation into his family, so to speak. Over the years, his family had become not only a founding family but the keepers of a very unique and vital covenant: the preservation of Ruby’s purity—the destruction of anything that could rot at the town’s physical and metaphorical foundation, from inside or out. They took it upon themselves to routinely re-enact the Disavowing. This year its stage was created naturally, for Chloe, Tiffany, and Merri appeared in town right at the end of his training, as if by divine providence. Merri had told him that Chloe was an orphan, which made her the perfect target. Typically, the youngest male of the Morgan family would find one source of corruption to destroy in order to rise as a man strong enough to take on the responsibility of the community and maintain its standards, but Chloe had made her way to him: the perfect sacrifice. The others were collateral damage, a means to an end. His education as a child and a teenager focused on preparing him to do just this. However, it was the stories of his ancestors, those who had come before him and sustained Ruby’s purity, that empowered him to do what needed to be done tonight. His role model, his great-grandfather Steward Morgan, had what it took to do this. And as if to make him proud, Joey had weaseled his way into Tiffany’s and Merri’s bed in order to murder all three. They did not embrace or perpetuate the principles and beliefs of Ruby, and therefore, they could only serve in the town’s destruction.
As he patiently waited for the perfect moment to strike, his anticipation grew, arousing him in the most diabolical fashion. He knew he had to take their lives, and he was going to, with his bare hands. His initiation required it. He envisioned the inevitable encounter: he saw himself launch at her, taking her completely by surprise. He pictured himself intertwining his fingers with her hair and yanking down, exposing her neck, splashing water droplets everywhere—drip, drip. He saw images of him licking her throat, her face, her lips. He saw himself forcing his way in between her legs as she tried to squirm and thrash out at him. He saw himself start to choke her with one hand while ripping off her shirt with the other. He saw himself cup her breast in his hand and bring his mouth to her nipple.
Her muffled screams pierced his ear, and he knew it was time to suck. First, gently, but then ravenously, quenching both his thirsts until his mouth ran red and the acidity of her body tainted her meat, making it foul to taste.
He left his hiding place and ventured out into the hallway. His family bought this property in the 80s, and he knew his way in and out, even had a key for all the doors. After locking Tiffany in the bathroom, he silently unlocked Chloe’s door and crept in. She laid asleep at her desk. His mother had told her that Chloe was the one who needed to be killed. She had asked too many questions—too many wrong questions. Now the Morgan’s had to do their part.
Power is timeless, boundless he thought to himself as he gracefully glided behind her. His movements were well practiced. Before she could even register what was going on, he picked Chloe’s head up from her desk, placing one hand on her forehead and the other on her chin, waking her in the process. This did not keep him from his duty though. With all of his strength, he twisted, severing Chloe’s head from her neck.
One down, two to go.
He walked over to the door in Chloe’s room that gave entrance to the bathroom Tiffany was still in. He locked that door from the outside as well. He then proceeded down the hall and locked Merri’s room. He could hear her whimpering in her room, probably upset about the fact that he dumped her only a half hour ago.
Foolish girl.
Now he was going to burn her alive—both of them.
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