The Bad Ones

by Stylo Fantome

  When she got to the last set, though, they burst open before she could try the handles. She screamed as an arm reached out and grabbed the front of her t-shirt. She was yanked into the building.

  “What the fuck are you doing here,” a voice hissed in her ear as an arm wrapped around her throat. She’d been shocked at first, but once she recognized the owner of the voice, she heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Matt. Thank god,” she breathed, gripping onto his wrist. He dragged her backwards, farther into the station.

  “Come to kill me, too!?” he yelled. She shook her head.

  “I told you. I warned you he’s crazy,” she said quickly. “He burned down the house, to get rid of the evidence. I ran away.”

  “That fucker killed my friends,” his voice was suddenly a little shaky. Matt was scared. She let her eyes close for a second.

  “I know. He’s going to kill me, too,” she whispered.

  “Fuck that. Fuck all this,” he groaned, and he abruptly let her go. She stumbled a little, then turned to watch him head for the stairs. She went to follow, then cried out when something sliced into her foot.

  There was glass all over the floor – Matt must have broken a window to get into the building. She gingerly tiptoed around the other shards, then left droplets of blood in her wake as she went up the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, straining her eyes to see him. There were flood lights from the highway that shown into the building, but it was still dim.

  “I need this,” he grunted, and when she came around to his side, she saw that he was holding a small glass pipe. It had a wide bowl at the end, and he flicked on a lighter underneath it.

  Jesus, he watched his friend get murdered, and he comes here to get high. I wonder if he heard that noise outside?

  “What are we going to do!?” she suddenly yelled, dropping into a crouch at his side. Her voice carried through the old building, echoed down the stairs.

  “Fuck, I don’t know! He’s your fucking crazy boyfriend!” he hissed. She nodded and began chewing on her fingernails.

  “I didn’t know. I didn’t know it would end like this,” she mumbled, glancing around the space. Looking for a weapon. But there was nothing. Matt was kneeling on a filthy looking mattress, with only a sheet crumpled up on it. There were some old comic books and some empty food containers, but that was it. Nothing useful.

  “He won’t touch us,” Matt took another hit of meth. “He can’t fucking touch me. Not when I’m here. I told him not to come to my house.”

  Dulcie heard another noise and she whipped her head around, looking behind her. They were crouched below the railing that overlooked the station floor. It also blocked her view of the stairs. Staying low, she began moving backwards, to the far wall.

  “You don’t get it,” she whispered, slowly moving farther away from Matt.

  “Oh, I fucking get it,” he coughed out, then sucked on the pipe some more.

  “This is his house.”

  A window downstairs burst, startling a shriek out of Dulcie. She pressed herself against the wall and curled into a ball. Matt, though, had new found strength from the massive amount of stimulant now flowing through his body. He jumped to his feet and leaned over the banister.

  “You wanna fuck with me now!? Not hiding in some dark room anymore, rich boy!” he shouted. There was a banging sound from below them, something metal hitting the marble floor in rapid succession.

  “You’re the one who cut the power,” Con’s voice floated up to them. “I would’ve been fine killing your friends with the lights on.”

  “You motherfucker, I’m gonna cut you open,” Matt threatened, and Dulcie was a little surprised when he produced a large blade from the inside of his pants. She looked twice and her surprise turned to shock – it was Con’s knife, from his kitchen. It was recognizable because it was a very distinct knife. Wolfgang Puck brand, razor sharp, and the entire thing – blade and handle – was bright red. It was the same knife Con had used to cut her free when he’d tied her to the bed. Matt must have stolen it when he’d been prowling around the house.

  “Is she up there?”

  “Who!?”

  “Little Red Riding Hood,” Con laughed. Matt glanced down at her, and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

  “Yeah. Yeah, your fucking girlfriend ran to me. How does that feel, you psycho?”

  “Feels like I need to reclaim my property.”

  “Just try it, motherfucker. Just you fucking try it!”

  Dulcie had moved so she was almost across from the steps, so she could see when Con started walking up them. His tousled brown hair came into view, then his face, though it was too dark to see his features. When she caught sight of his chest, she almost laughed – he’d gotten fully dressed before coming to the station, and he’d put on his letterman jacket, the one from high school. He looked exactly like the picture she’d drawn of him, so many years ago.

  A shadow man, come to do very bad things in the night. She wasn’t wearing a hood, but her shirt was marked in red. Splattered with blood.

  Close enough.

  “Did he touch you?” Con asked once he got to the top of the stairs.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He turned towards Matt and she finally saw what had been making the banging noise. He’d brought the shovel from the house, the one she’d used to break out of the room. The one he’d use to dig up his dead father. He let the blade drag across the floor as he walked past her.

  “You think that scares me!?” Matt was shouting with such violence, spit flew from his lips. “C’mon, asshole! C’mon!”

  Con swung the shovel, knocking the knife out of the other man’s hand. It flew onto the mattress in the corner, but it didn’t seem to faze Matt. He swung his other hand and caught Con in the side of the head with his fist. The shovel dropped to the ground and Matt hit him again, causing him to stumble backwards. The garden tool was kicked, sliding across the floor till it hit her in the toes. She squeezed her eyes shut tight for a moment.

  It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. Okay. OK. Two little letters in exchange for three little words. It has to be okay.

  When Dulcie opened her eyes, the two boys were locked in battle. Con was obviously the bigger one, the stronger of the two, but Matt was so pumped full of drugs, he was beyond feeling any pain. So when Con slammed a fist across his face, it didn’t even make the drug addict pause. He shouted and charged forward, ramming into him and forcing them back.

  They teetered at the edge of the stairs and Dulcie screamed when it looked like they were going to go down. But then Matt grabbed the sides of Con’s jacket and swung him around, slamming him up against the banister. He immediately began pummeling the bigger guy, landing his fists everywhere.

  “Who’s scared now, huh? Who’s fucking getting killed now!?” Matt was shouting. He hooked his fist into Con’s jaw, and Dulcie watched as blood sprayed through the air.

  She slowly climbed to her feet, and from over Matt’s shoulders, she could see that the big bad wolf could, in fact, bleed. It was streaming out of his mouth, running down the side of his cheek. But still, he smiled that amazing smile. Showed those fangs that she knew could eat her up oh so quickly.

  “Hard for me to kill you … when you’re already dead,” Con sighed. Matt let out a yell and punched him in the side, causing him to spit out more blood.

  “Fucking psycho! I’m not scared of you!” Matt screamed.

  A shrill noise filled the small space. That same scraping sound. Dulcie took a couple steps forward, till she was right behind Matt, and she looked down at Con. His big blue eyes finally locked onto her own and he stared at her.

  “Good, because I’m not the one you should be scared of,” he whispered.

  Matt had barely looked over his shoulder when Dulcie let out a shriek and swung the shovel. The flat side caught him in the face, hard enough to send him flying backwards. He’d just bumped into the wall when she swung
at him again, this time hitting him in the chest. He cried out in pain, but she was beyond hearing anything. The shovel came down on his head, sending him to his knees.

  “Couldn’t just leave me alone!” she shouted, moving in a slow circle around him.

  “Why … what are you …” Matt was gurgling. Now he was the one spitting out blood.

  “I told you. I warned you not to fucking touch me. I told you something bad would happen. God, you’re disgusting, wanting to fuck your sister,” she spit out. “And you just had to bring your fucking friends! You wanted a party, right? You certainly fucking got one! Having a good time, Matty? Your friends had a blast.”

  “Please … please,” he whispered. She laughed at him.

  “Are you fucking joking?”

  An underhanded swing brought the shovel up under his chin. She’d used both her arms, really put a lot of torque on it, and he actually lifted off the ground. When he landed on his back, more blood flew through the air. From behind her, she heard Con clapping.

  “Beautiful form, little girl.”

  Dulcie stood over Matt for a second, her legs on either side of his torso, then she lowered herself so she was actually sitting on his chest. She cocked her head to the side and let her eyes wander over his face. He might have been crying, she couldn’t tell. There was too much blood. He was definitely missing more teeth, though, that was for sure.

  “Why couldn’t you leave me alone?” she sighed, wiping a fingertip through the mess on his face. A clean path for his tears.

  “I’m sorry,” he coughed out.

  “Ooohhh, too late for that, Matt. Much too late for that, isn’t it?” she whispered back, then got to her feet again.

  “You’re … you’re a fucking crazy bitch. Fucking crazy,” he finally said with some gusto.

  Dulcie held very still for a moment and stared down at him. Looked into his eyes and tried to see how she felt. How she truly felt. She’d lured him to Con’s house, she’d let Con kill his friends, and then she’d convinced him she was scared and needed his protection. Those were such bad things. So very, very bad.

  … you’re a fucking crazy bitch …

  “You better fucking believe it,” she breathed.

  Then she gripped the shovel between her hands and lifted her arms up high before driving the blade straight down through his head.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Dulcie let go of the handle and stumbled backwards. The shovel stayed standing upright. She was pretty sure she’d gone straight through his skull and had embedded the tool in the actual floor.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, wiping her hands down the front of her shirt. She looked over her shoulder, but Con wasn’t by the railing anymore. He was over by Matt’s makeshift bed and moving towards her. She hadn’t even realized he’d moved, she’d been so lost in the moment.

  “Fucker broke my tooth,” Con commented, and she watched as he spit out half of a molar. “I began to think you were enjoying letting him kick my ass.”

  “You said you wanted your DNA spread around,” she reminded him as she raked her hands through her hair.

  “I wanted it to look like there was a struggle, like you put up a fight. I didn’t want permanent damage,” he explained, his fingers feeling around the side of his cheek. They slid around and he flattened his hand, wiping away the excess blood from his face.

  “What can I say? I like to see you bleed,” she sighed, looking at all the blood he’d spit everywhere.

  “You were amazing,” he told her, moving so he was touching her.

  “You locked me in a room,” she growled, remembering that little fact. She glared up at him.

  “I didn’t trust you,” he chuckled, trailing his fingers through her hair. “I had to be the one to kill them, not you, but I knew given half the chance, you’d fly off half cocked and kill someone yourself.”

  “Fair point.”

  The plan had been to lure Matt to the house and either kill him there, or convince him Dulcie was just some poor girl in an abusive relationship with a psycho – at Con’s insistence. That way if he managed to escape early on and get the police involved, she would be free from any guilt. One of them had to remain free, that was crucial, and of the two of them, Dulcie was the best at pulling off innocent and unassuming.

  Matt being at the station was fortuitous, Dulcie had honestly thought she wouldn’t get the chance to kill him. When he’d run away from Con’s house, they’d figured he’d gone straight to the cops. Not too much of a problem – they’re plan had already been accomplished, Con looked like the bad guy. Hopefully, they’d be long gone before anyone would even know they were missing. It would, though, perfectly set up an alibi for what had happened.

  Con had gone crazy, killed his father, killed Matt’s friends, burned down his house, and then taken Dulcie to the station, to their special spot, which Matt knew alllll about. Who knew what happened after that? Con was crazy, after all. Clearly, he’d done something with Dulcie. Absconded with her. Kidnapped her. Killed her.

  “You’re so beautiful right now,” he whispered, his hand cupping the side of her face, tilting her up so she had to look at him. He fell on her mouth, kissing her in a way fit for the end of a fairy tale.

  One of those stories that came out of the Black Forest, and ended with children being eaten and big bad wolves going home satisfied.

  “So close to done. I can’t believe we’re gonna pull this off,” she gasped. His fingers slid further into her hair, and she could feel the bloody hand print he left behind on her cheek.

  “I can. We’re unstoppable. We’re goddamn amazing,” he growled, then pushed his tongue into her mouth. She kissed him back, wanting more from him. Wanting everything.

  If I could just die like this … what a beautiful moment … what a beautiful man …

  “Dulcie,” he whispered when he pulled away. She had her eyes closed and one of her hands on the back of his neck, holding him close.

  “What?”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  She opened her eyes and saw that he was looking down, so she followed his gaze. There was blood underneath her heel, and she remembered she’d slashed open her foot when she’d been downstairs.

  “Oh, from the glass on the floor, I cut myself. It’s not very deep.”

  “Too bad.”

  There was a flash of red and Dulcie gasped. Squeezed her eyes shut tight and dug her fingernails into his neck. She took a couple deep breaths, then looked down at herself again.

  The knife from Con’s kitchen, the one Matt had stolen, was now buried in her. Con’s free hand was still wrapped around the handle. She struggled to keep calm and watched as blood began to stain her white shirt.

  “I didn’t … I wasn’t …” she panted. She felt his lips against her forehead.

  “Baby, I wish you could feel this the way I do. Fucking amazing.”

  He twisted the knife and she finally cried out. She jerked away from him and almost threw up as she felt the blade slide free from her body. Her hands instantly went to cover the wound, though it didn’t help any. Warm blood flowed over and around her fingers.

  Dulcie fell to her knees and started laughing. She lifted her right hand and turned it over in front of her face. Let her eyes wander over the crimson red. Such a beautiful color. Her laughter turned to sobbing and she let her head fall forward.

  “I wasn’t ready,” she cried. He moved to squat in front of her and she felt the tip of the blade under her chin, then he pushed up, forcing her to look at him again.

  “Doesn’t matter. It had to be done,” he assured her. She stared at him through her tears. Stared at those blue, blue eyes.

  “But I wanted to tell you I love you,” she whispered.

  Finally. Now it can’t poison me anymore.

  “Ah,” he breathed, and his Cheshire grin was back in place. “Now, Dulcie. Now we can finally be together.” She smiled back at him and nodded.

  Then he stabbed
her again.

  30

  The small town of Fuller, West Virginia was rocked by a series of events that took place late one Tuesday evening.

  A 9-1-1 call brought fire trucks to the Masters household, which was engulfed in flames by the time they got there. They were nowhere close to having it under control when a second phone call came in – the old train station was on fire, as well. A second fire truck was sent to deal with it. Luckily, that fire was much easier to take care of, and by morning, investigators were able to start crawling all over the smoke damaged interior.

  It was late the next day before they got into the Masters house, and what they found wasn’t pretty. Three bodies in the wreckage, all badly burned. Mr. Jebediah Masters was easily identified by dental records, but there was something strange. Investigators later determined Mr. Masters had died long before the fire. It was also readily obvious that the fire had not been an accident – the ground around the back part of the house was soaked in gasoline, and burned out metal gas cans were found in some of the rooms.

  The heights of the other two bodies completely ruled out the possibility of Constantine Masters being either of them, but no one had seen the young man since the day of the fire. He was an immediate suspect, much to the shock of the town.

  Well, to most of the town.

  Jared Foster came forward and was adamant Constantine was responsible for the fires, and more so, that he’d done something to Dulcie Travers, the girl Con had reportedly been dating. Jared stated that Dulcie had come to him, had admitted to being afraid of Con, and that he’d personally witnessed Con acting strangely towards the girl.

  The body of Dulcie’s half-brother, Matthew Reid, was found in the train station. He’d been violently murdered. A lot of blood was found at the scene, but not all of it could be attributed to Matthew’s injuries. Tests showed that blood on the banister and blood on Matt’s fists had come from one Constantine Masters. A partial tooth belonging to Con was also found, indicating some sort of fight had taken place.

  It was also quickly revealed that a large amount of the blood belonged to Dulcie Travers. There was a pool of it on the second story, then a bloody trail lead down the stairs and out the door and all the way to the railroad crossing. From there, it disappeared into the woods.