Monochrome My Madness

by Ashleigh Giannoccaro

  I cover myself up again and stand next to her at the mirror. “He scares the shit outta me Shan, did you see what he did to Joel?” Now she is like a dog with a bone, she could join the wolf pack outside. “It’s too late to fix Megan, just help me navigate my way with the women, Callum I can handle.” She gives me shallow smile her concern filters through and I can see she isn’t happy at all.

  “No one could handle that much man Shannon, but alright. The women are not going to like you –simple. I can’t really help you there they don’t like me much either.” Well, at least we could be on their shit list together. She shakes her head and winks at me in the mirror. She is such a child sometimes. I wish we could be real friends, but she is one of them and I am not.

  We return to hushed whispers of gossip in the kitchen they are talking about me no doubt. Megan coughs announcing our return and the fakeness resumes.

  What seems like forever later Callum comes into the wolf den, he greets the ladies with cold, empty words. He puts a glass, his glass down right in front of me, it’s empty. He drank it. My heart beats a little faster at that notion. He hugs the widow of the brother he had killed. Then swiftly without a goodbye drags me from the room and out of the house. It’s evening now and the air is cold. I don’t have a coat as he stomps us down the sidewalk to his car. I am shivering by the time he opens the door for me and the cold is biting at my face. I can feel how pink my cheeks must be right now and I sniffle as my nose wants to run from breathing the icy air.

  Callum gets in the car and his tyres screech as we speed away, he obviously had as much fun as I did today. He is in another place as I sit shivering in my seat.

  He doesn’t even notice me freezing beside him. He is gone and the monster is back. My heart sinks and soars at that notion. Something has changed. I still have butterflies – he drank the whiskey I poured, what is he trying to tell me?

  BEING AROUND MY FAMILY is worse than torture for me, their small mindedness about how this world works has me dumbfounded. The whole world has evolved, but this little group of mobsters refuse to move with it. They are stuck in their ways, stubborn and stupid. All of this works to my distinct advantage, but I still cannot abide being around them. They drivel on and on about keeping the family safe. The family will never be safe; they should be focused on business. This isn’t a family anymore it’s a billion pound a year business. None of them will ever be safe again. I am the devil in their midst and they don’t even see me.

  I listen to their annoying thug plans, I keep quiet they don’t want my opinion and I’m not going to offer it. I won’t be nice. Shannon brought me a drink, but there is no way I am going to take a sip of it, as desperately as I need a drink to get through this I am not playing roulette. I saw Neil communicate to her with his eyes and I am still not too sure I should trust her yet or at all, she is a self-confessed serial killer who I know wants to kill me. I watched Joel die this morning, there is no way I want that death. It was beautiful to watch but horrific at the same time.

  This shit is giving me a headache and I need fucking sugar so bad right now. I stand in my corner watching each of them, I am good at watching people looking for their tells. It is why I am so good in business - I am good at people. My mind is wondering; I am bored by this trivial crap. I eat a chocolate bar from my pocket and absorb the information they unknowingly give me. The way, Neil bounces his foot, lets me know just how unsettled he is right now. I enjoy watching him squirm.

  My mind floats back to the ghost house, turns out I had a home all along. The flashes of my nightmares are right there at the surface when I remember the front door and the cold concrete of the front steps. I hear the screams that stole my sleep for years. I am not so sure living there is a good idea. The monster, I am now, was born in there. Those cold hallways took all the good right out of me a long time ago. Living there will upset this bunch, something I am hell bent on doing. I want them to be fucking miserable. And dead, mostly just dead.

  I am not ashamed to claim my Spillane name. My mother was a fucking angel.

  Shannon’s face when we arrived at the house was priceless she lit up, I knew before I even saw it that was the house she wanted to live in. I want her to live with me, which makes no sense, she could kill me and I am a dick to live with, not even Rowan could hack it. He nearly did kill me. I miss him. I miss home, my real home. My real family not this bunch of idiots. I have had enough of this I want to leave. Those bitches are probably ripping Shannon apart right now. I saw Megan come in so she might be alright for a bit longer.

  I would murder for a drink. I have a drink, but I cannot drink it. Neil keeps eyeing the glass I haven’t touched. Would she have the balls to kill me here? She didn’t have a bag with her where would she hide poison? I need a fucking drink, do I risk it and live to see my brother’s face or die a horrid death on the dirty carpet? Fuck it, she won’t kill me, she just killed Joel. I reach for the glass, Neil swallows a lump in his throat as he watches me, he loses his place in the conversation. His eyes lock with mine as I drink the life- saving liquid down quickly, it burns my dry throat and I feel instantly better. I also feel like I just cheated my brother and death. I knew she wouldn’t kill me, well it’s a bit early to tell if I’m still standing here in twenty minutes I will go get her and leave. I want to fuck her again only in a sweet, gentle and non-murder inducing way this time. I need to know she wants me. Last night wasn’t about want it was what I needed, what my monster needed. We both got what we needed now I want her to want me. I am so fucked up. Why do I continue to chase the idea that I will find love? And why would I choose a serial killing monster?

  I never wanted anyone other than Cassie. When she died so did the slither of my heart that was left. I never believed men like me could find love, real love or any love. Rowan taught me a lesson in that. We can be these criminal men and still love. Now that he has that love- I want it. I want her, I want the poisonous ghost that I should not want, but I do. I want her so badly it hurts.

  I am watching the minutes tick past slower than usual as I wait to see if she has killed me. I know she hasn’t, but my brother watches me like he wishes she had. I want to kill him right now, but now is not his time. There is a plan I need to stick to it. Watching him watch me not die is worth the risk I took as his face falls and he shakes his head slightly. He is distracted from the arguing men around him as we stare at each other.

  Tick, tick, tick, twenty long ticks later and I am still alive. She didn’t kill me… yet. I take a deep breath and acknowledge to myself that I am in the deepest shit when it comes to her.

  I go retrieve her from the kitchen where the chatter seems to be on my new home. I greet Orla, the grieving widow. I never cared who my brothers married, Orla was around long before I left, Pop picked her out. Her daddy was a banker and then he died. I fucked her at their engagement party just to spite Warrick. She is a whore to me, always was. She has seen my madness and felt the pain left behind. She knows what I am under this suit and tie.

  I drag Shannon from the house so I can breathe, think and escape.

  I am a time bomb right now, a ticking time bomb. I need some space between me and her, but needs and wants can be very different things. I want her close; I want her under my skin. I want to be inside her again, claiming her body and making her mine.

  I’m going to hell and most likely she will send me there personally. I look over and see her shivering in the seat next to me, she is cold. I didn’t even notice the cold. I switch the heated seats on feeling like an asshole.

  I am going to take her home and leave her there, I need some time to work and think and fit her into my plan. I need her in my plan; I need my plan to be her plan too. I want her! It’s not often there is something I actually desire in this world I have everything at my fingertips. Shannon is someone I want and I am not going to let her get away. I take what I want that’s why I came home.

  I stop at the surgery, she looks confused and a little hurt as I park in the ambulance
parking bay and switch off the car. I don’t know how this stuff is done; I haven’t had the same woman hang around me for more than a few hours for as long as I can remember. She grabs for the door handle her expression is a little wounded that I have brought her home, and in an instant it goes from that to rage. We need people to believe this shit is real. Fuck it is real. She slithers her body out of the seat before I can even register what she is doing. I grab at my seatbelt to follow her out of the car. I am not going to just drop her on the pavement and leave. I am an asshole but not that much of an asshole. I should walk her to the door at least.

  Besides the view of her sweet backside through the car window, has me thinking I might stay a little while. I know that under those clothes she is wearing the marks of what I did to her last night. I haven’t even seen her flinch once today; she is as tough as nails. Or at least she pretends to be, I think beneath the murderous tendencies and the deep need to appear powerful that she may just have softness in her. I saw it when she looked at the house this morning just for a brief second she let her guard down. She was happy for a second.

  I move over the concrete to stand close behind her as she unlocks the door that leads straight upstairs to her home. I follow her up the stairs and her ass is level with my face and my hand itching to smack it. I can smell the subtle scent of her perfume she is so close. We enter the living room of her home. The furniture looks like a time warp back to the eighties, she hasn’t changed anything or made the space her own, and it feels as if she merely exists here. The space is stale and dated and damp. This whole fucking city is wet - I hate it. It is toxic to my mood it seeps into my mind turning it dark and vicious.

  She ignores my presence in her space completely and kicks off her heels before she moves through a doorway into the old kitchen. Her red hair is a little messy from the wind outside and her eyes look tired. She opens the fridge and removes a bottle of wine; the bottle of light pink liquid is only half full as she pulls the old cork from the top it swishes around. She reaches up to the cupboards above her head to get a wine glass that clinks against the stone counter tops. The glass fills up the cold wine that makes it frost over with condensation. She glugs the whole glass in one go before refilling it. Turning to where I stand in the doorway. She reaches into the same cupboard stretching her short frame as she stands on her toes and pulls out a tumbler and a bottle of Jameson from the very top shelf. I notice the bottle is sealed as she shoves the glass and bottle at me to pour my own drink. I have an instant can I trust her moment, before I open the bottle, snapping the seal as I twist the cap. Pouring the liquid gold into my glass before I follow her out of the room in silence. Her bare feet are silent on the old carpets as she stomps into the dining room and sits at the antique table. Her actions are almost childish now. She is a brat and I fight the growing urge to smack her.

  I sit down opposite her not quite sure how to react to being ignored completely. She looks so utterly broken, have I done that to her already?

  Is it the ghost of Cassie that I want so badly or is it the murderous woman who actually sits at the table? I am drawn to her in a way I cannot explain even to myself.

  I should leave. Now.

  HOME. HOME AFTER ALL the shit in the past 48 hours he brings me home. What a dick, is he just done now? I played my role for his fucked up family now he is done with me for the day. Fucker. I need wine or Vallium or anything that will blank the last day right out of my fucking mind. The grey is seeping in; it is too soon to want to kill again, too early to start a new cycle. I usually carry the high of a kill for weeks after, the buzz of a good kill can last even longer. The high is gone already. Flat. Nothing left. I feel the need to start over again. What if he makes me stay grey? What if Callum makes everything grey? Right now I am tipping towards black. Complete darkness that I might never come out of, the grey is just fog I can still see through it. He is my weakness and I am scared.

  I can feel his eyes boring holes into my ass as we climb the stairs to my home, my home, I didn’t invite him in, I didn’t ask him to follow me. Yet here he is invading my life again. I need to be away from him, I want him to just go. At least it is warm in here, he left me to freeze for ages before he even attempted to warm up the car. Asshole. He may look like a gentleman, but looks are very deceiving in this world. Callum is not a gentleman. There is nothing gentle about him. Nothing at all. My aching body is the proof of just how ungentlemanly he really is. I feel like I have sold my soul to an even bigger devil, at least I knew what kind of a dick Neil was.

  The afternoon with the O’Reilly women has left me feeling drained and tired. I want a glass of wine, a shower and my bed in that order and without Callum. Just thinking about him hurts right now.

  I hate sharing my space, this is my space. And he is in it. Why is he in my space and my head, and dare I say it my heart?

  My first cold glass of Rose wine slides down my throat quenching the thirst and slowly wiping my mind clean of the changes in my life. Callum’s presence in the doorway sucks the wind out of that plan very quickly. God, he isn’t going to fucking leave! I pull down the sealed bottle of whiskey and glass and shove it at him as I push past to go and sit at the table to think. “Here, I haven’t poisoned this yet.” The sofa leaves him the option of sitting close to me and I can’t handle that right now. A table between us will stop my treacherous body from melting what little defence my mind has left.

  My muscles feel stiff as I sit on the hard dining chair and try to drown my thoughts and aches in the second glass of wine. I should be drinking the scotch. I wish he would go; instead he sits opposite me with his drink in hand. He oozes power even now at the end of a long day, he fills a room his size and the presence he commands just by being in here. Those evil green eyes that pull me in, the body I know is hidden beneath that suit. Callum is the worst kind of villain because he looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. That sexy as all hell hair and the damn beard that make my lady parts turn all mushy when I see him. Damn the devil knows how to create a temptation so perfectly. I shift in my seat trying to get comfortable, but I am never going to feel comfortable with his evil eyes raking over every inch of me like I am a fucking meal he wants to eat. My body is in still in agony from last night and I feel my muscles protesting every movement I make. I won’t survive any more of the same.

  His eyes don’t leave me for a second. I feel my skin heating up under his gaze as I swallow down my wine; I scrape my chair across the floor and get up to go shower I need to be in another room away from Callum. He is worse than a fucking stalker – I can see him following me. Which is somehow even creepier.

  “I am going to shower Callum, you can leave now.” I sneer at him, I want him to go. His eyes dance with contempt and a wicked smile begins to play on his lips. My eyes are drawn to them as his tongue licks at the bottom one, my mind drifts back to what those lips have done to me and my blood begins to heat. Fuck this. I need to get away from him. Now.

  “I am not leaving now Shannon. We are not done.” His voice mocks me, he makes me feel stupid. “Yet.” He adds and the greyness starts clawing at the edge of my mind and I imagine that smirk being wiped off his face as he succumbs to my poison. I turn on my heel and storm out of the room. I am going to fucking murder him. I am going to exterminate him, he needs to go. He is not safe here, he is not safe in my home. I can kill him here. We are done. I cannot feel like this all the time I will end up in an asylum. There is something that makes a killer snap and go crazy, lose all control and get caught. Callum is going to be that thing, because he won’t fucking leave! My hands twitch at the thought of going to get something out of my box to kill him right now. I force the thoughts away and go to the shower with a racing heart and a head full of tormented confusion. I am breaking.

  I want to kill him here. Worse than that I want him and that is a thought too dangerous to even think. Callum doesn’t want me, he is using me, and he made that very clear this afternoon. He loved Cassie and I am not her. I am the
consolation fuck. I am the ghost of the girl he lost. I am just the other sister the slightly less lovable and tragic one.

  Of all the immoral, villainous, monstrous men in my life I have to want the worst one of all. The one that truly has the ability to not only kill me, because they all would, but to break me. I mean cut every part of me into a million pieces he is already breaking into my life and I am losing all control.

  I step out of my clothes and into the shower as I turn the hot water on full. I like the sudden burn on my skin and the steam fills my lungs and clears my thoughts just a little. The water burns where my skin is broken, the welts are tender and I can see bruises everywhere I look. His fingerprints are bruised into my shoulders and breasts. There is a blue mark where he bit into the soft flesh of my ass. The marks on my wrists where he tied me to the bed are raw and sensitive, they are seeping a little and will need an antiseptic. I probably need a Tetanus shot and an antibiotic now that I think about it. Every inch of me hurts and yet as I feel the pain as it slowly wipes the grey away. The opposite of what my reaction should be. He is breaking me already. He taking away my identity, the thing that makes me tick. The one thing that was mine. Murder, and I selfishly don’t want to give it to him.

  Tears fall down my cheeks silently under the shower. I hate crying, but the tears won’t listen they just fall. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. I have always been alone but now I feel lonely. I almost wish my mother wasn’t senile and I could ask her advice. Who am I kidding, any mother, insane or otherwise, would say run a mile from any O’Reilly man! I let the water wash the tears as they fall and my chest heaves with every silent sob. I hold myself up with hands pressed against the shower wall and try to pull these emotions into control. As my tears disable my defences I slide down to the shower floor and crumble into a pile of bruised broken flesh. Just because I am a killer doesn’t make me immune to emotion. I still want the feelings that everyone else gets to have I just have no clue on how to get them without killing for them. Or what I should do with them when they rampage through my life. I have no clue what to do with feelings, they are more foreign than Chinese to me. On the shower floor drowning in my own tears and the hot water, I realise that all, I want, is not to be alone. I don’t wish to feel the bitter bite of loneliness every day. I want to know how to feel. “Focus on the job Shannon!” My father would yell at me anytime I even hinted at being close to finding someone to love – or kill. “You cannot have feelings and be a doctor, patients die and you need to be fine with that. Stop your sappy girly crap you little whore, sex is sex not love!” I am attacked by memories of my father as he beat and raped the feelings out of me yet again. I hate remembering as much as I hated him, my father was not worth the air he breathed.