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Malcolm, oblivious, continues to fuck into Camille. I glance at my watch, disappointed that my ballerina won’t line up perfectly for this moment, but it’s still entertaining.
Camille doesn’t move, but her voice is clear.
“Malcolm…help…me.”
Only then does he realize that something is wrong. He pushes her back by the shoulders. I tilt my head and stare at them, biding my time.
“What the fuck? What’s wrong?”
Malcolm’s freaked-out voice reaches me, and I smirk.
“I…I don’t know,” she answers, and I can feel her terror filling the room.
Malcolm tries to stand and pick her up, the first gentlemanly thing he’s attempted, but the poison hits him. They both lurch forward and crash through the glass coffee table.
“Ah,” Camille lets out a small scream, but it’s weak.
“Fuck,” Malcolm growls and manages to roll off Camille, but goes no farther.
Well, that’s annoying and far too loud. I truly hate condos. I wait to see if anyone comes pounding on the door about the noise, but no one bothers.
“What…what’s happening,” Malcolm asks over and over.
Once I’m sure they are fully under the poison’s paralysis, I hit the button on my phone to kill the cameras. Camille always checks her security as soon as she arrives home. That forced me to cut it before entering, then turn it on again once I was hidden. Annoying, really, and useless, but who am I to judge someone else’s habits?
I quietly push open the cupboard door. First one leg, then the other, I emerge ever so slowly, like a deadly spider.
They don’t notice me.
I wear a black suit made of a spandex blend that covers my entire body. Nothing is visible, not even my eyes, thanks to the mask I wear. It’s identical to Alden’s skull. When I put it on, it feels like we are one.
Camille and Malcolm notice me at the same time, identical terrified expressions on their faces. Blood blooms around Camille from being the one to go through the glass table. The wine bottle I spiked long before they got here lies on the floor, and what’s left drips onto the white rug.
“Who…who are you?” Camille is the first to recover from my sudden appearance. “What do you want?”
Instead of answering, I remove the small black pack from my shoulders and unzip it. Inside is my ballerina jewelry box.
“Answer her,” Malcolm demands. “We’ll ruin you.”
I smile behind my mask and ignore them both as I wind the little dancer. The eerie tinkling of the music fills the room. I place the box on the arm of a large leather chair and sit.
“Stop it. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Who I am is of no concern. You have until the ballerina stops dancing to live. Spend that time praying for forgiveness for your sins.”
The voice scrambler sends a shiver down my spine. I love this new addition.
“Sins? What…sins?” Camille’s voice is raspy, and her chest heaves as she struggles to breathe.
“You touched what doesn’t belong to you,” I tell her, then raise my arm to point at Malcolm. “And you tried to hurt what is mine. For that…you both pay the price.”
“Let me go…is it money you want? I’ll get you money,” Malcolm says, not even bothering to try and help Camille.
Camille is too busy gulping in breaths to plead for her life. Tears leak from her eyes. Her body and mind will both be screaming for help now that the end is near.
“You are a slug, a parasite, and a nobody. You leech everything you have from others, then claim it is yours. You are not worthy to even breathe the same air as those you’ve robbed. I’m rectifying the issue,” I say softly, but it comes out creepy with the voice modulator.
Camille’s eyes find my face as she pleads silently.
