Dead Pretty

by Samantha Towle

  Then, I push the sofa back into its original spot.

  I get the key to Jack’s apartment from Audrey’s bag. A spare key that he gave to her.

  I let myself out of the apartment, and on silent feet, I walk down the empty hallway toward Jack’s apartment.

  Using the key, I slide it into the lock and turn. The click of it unlocking sounds so loud in the silence of the night.

  Steadying my breathing, I turn the handle and quietly open the door.

  Slipping inside, I carefully close the door behind me.

  His apartment is in darkness. Only the moonlight through the window providing any light.

  I fucking hate this guy.

  I discovered who he was totally by accident. I was online, looking him up. I needed to know all about Jack Canti. The man Audrey was allowing to fuck her, use her like a whore, and she was starting to have real feelings for him. Believing his lies. Thinking that she loved him. I couldn’t allow that.

  When I found out exactly who he was related to … well, it was like a gift from God.

  Audrey needed to know, of course. I knew she wouldn’t have anything more to do with him once she did.

  Because she always believes everything that I lay out for her to believe.

  It was the only way. It has only ever been this way.

  Audrey cannot cope with the truth.

  And if she hadn’t found my things tonight, I would have left Jack alone. So long as she stayed away from him.

  I know it will hurt Audrey for me to do this, but there’s no other way.

  Silently, I move through Jack’s apartment, looking for a place to hide my things. Somewhere easily findable for the police. But not so easy that it looks planted.

  Because poor Jack Canti is about to be framed for my crimes.

  When I’m done, the police will believe that Jack came here to finish off what his brother started—to kill Audrey.

  Not that I’ll kill her, of course. I could never kill Audrey.

  But I will have to hurt her again.

  I don’t like that I have to. Just like I didn’t the last time when I cut open her skin.

  I walk over to the window and check to see if the sill is movable, if I can put these things here.

  But, no, it’s fixed down good.

  Fucking Christ.

  Light flashes on, momentarily blinding me.

  I spin around to see Jack standing in the entrance to the living room, a gun in his hand, pointed in my direction.

  I hold my breath as Jack blinks. His angry expression morphs quickly to surprise and then instantly relaxes.

  “Jesus, Audrey.” He lowers the gun, shoving a hand through his hair. “You frightened the shit out of me. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

  I put the items down behind me on the sill.

  And then I smile.

  Cole

  Jack moves through the living room, coming toward me. He puts the gun into the waistband at the back of his sleep pants while he walks.

  I track the movement with my eyes. Before looking back to his face.

  A face filled with concern.

  I would actually feel bad for the guy if I didn’t dislike him so much.

  What Audrey sees in him, I will never know.

  I just need to figure out how to handle this situation.

  My hands are still behind my back. Gloves are still on. The knife is wrapped in the paper towel. I quickly peel the gloves off and shove them down the back of the shorts that I’m wearing.

  My fingers fumble to free the knife. Not that it’ll do me much good against his gun. I manage to loosen the towel from around it just as Jack reaches me.

  “Did something happen?” he asks me.

  He’s worried for her. I’m sure Audrey would find it sweet.

  I just find it irritating.

  I shake my head.

  He’s staring at me. “You sure? You seem”—his brow furrows in concentration—“different.”

  “Different.”

  I have to suppress a smile.

  If only he knew just how different I was.

  I don’t say anything. If I do speak, Jack will know that I’m not Audrey straightaway. Our voices differ. I can mimic Audrey’s, but to someone close to her, they would know the difference.

  As much as I might dislike it, Jack is close to my sister.

  And he’s also smart.

  What I need to do right now is get that gun off him.

  And there’s only one way to do it. Distraction.

  Lifting a hand, I press it to his chest.

  His breathing stutters.

  So fucking easy.

  I press my lips to his and kiss him.

  Not exactly what I want to do right now—or anytime ever, to be perfectly honest—but needs must.

  And I will do whatever is necessary.

  Jack kisses me back. I can feel him losing himself in the kiss.

  Good. I need him distracted for just long enough.

  Reaching a hand back, I locate my knife with my fingers. Curling them around it, I pick it up, holding it in my right hand, while I move my left hand, slipping it down the skin of his back.

  When I locate his gun, I wrap my fingers around the handle, and then in one swift movement, I pull it from his waistband and bring my arm holding the knife from behind my back. I turn it upward and plunge the blade into his neck.

  The look of shock and confusion and anguish on his face is one that I will remember for a little while at least.

  I do almost feel sorry for the bastard.

  Almost.

  But he was only fucking Audrey to get close to her, so he could free his stupid brother from prison.

  He hurt Audrey. So, I don’t feel too bad about killing him.

  And it’s not like I had any other choice.

  Neither he nor Audrey left me another option.

  Audrey will be upset though when she finds out that he’s dead.

  But I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

  Jack staggers back from me. His hands clutching his throat. His back hits the wall, and he slides down it until he’s sitting, slumped on the floor.

  And I watch him.

  The way the blood seeps out from between his fingers. Running down his chest.

  Jack won’t die just yet. He’s got a few minutes. Maybe more. I didn’t hit a major vein when I stuck the knife in him. Because I didn’t want to.

  He’ll bleed out slowly. Which is just how I like it.

  This is my favorite part.

  “Au-dr-ey … wh-wh-why?” The words are quiet and garbled. He can’t shout or yell for help because of the blood flooding his throat and his lungs.

  “Audrey isn’t here at the moment.”

  He hears it. The difference in our voices. I see it in his confused and fearful eyes.

  And I am enjoying every single second of this.

  It’s what I live for.

  Of course, I live for Audrey too.

  But this … the killing … this is for me.

  “How about I tell you a little story?”

  I take a few steps backward and rest my ass on the arm of the sofa. Jack’s gun in one hand, my knife in my other.

  “Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Audrey, and she had a brother called Cole. Their father was a mean, cruel bastard who used to beat on his wife and kids. Cole would protect Audrey as best he could because that’s what older brothers do—they protect their younger sibling.

  “One day, when Audrey was four and Cole was eight, their dad was in a particularly bad mood. A terrible mood in fact. Their mother was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Cole and Audrey were in the back closet that led into the kitchen. When they had to be in the house, they would play in there to stay out of the way of their father.

  “They heard arguing begin in the kitchen and then the sounds of their father hitting their mother. Cole told Audrey to cover her ears. That it would all be fine. But it wasn’t fine. Not
that day. The sound that came from their mother … was unnatural. Cole knew something bad was happening. He looked through the slats in the door, and he could see blood. Blood running across the floor. He told Audrey to stay there, and he walked into the kitchen. Cole saw his mother’s body on the floor, surrounded by blood. He screamed. So, his father made Cole stop screaming. Then, their father took the knife to his own throat and slit it wide open.

  “Audrey always did what Cole told her to, and she didn’t leave that closet. She stayed there for three days until a worried neighbor called the police because she hadn’t seen the family for a few days and there was a bad smell coming from the house.

  “Audrey had no other family. So, she was placed with a good Christian family. Dorothy and Patrick Irwin went on to adopt her. Only Patrick and Dorothy weren’t good people. Patrick liked to rape little girls, and Dorothy turned a blind eye, allowing him to.

  “What Cole hadn’t realized was that Audrey had seen her family slaughtered that day. Cole told her to cover her ears in that moment in the closet but not to close her eyes. His one mistake. And through the slats in that door, she saw everything. And then she had been left all alone … to live with those monsters.

  “Audrey cried for Cole every single night after that bastard made her do things no child ever should. Begged for him to come back and save her. So, that’s what I did. I came back and protected her, like I always had tried to. Only I wouldn’t fail her ever again. So, every night, when that sick fuck she had to now call father would come into her bedroom to take what he wanted from her, Audrey would simply fall asleep, and I would take her place.”

  “Do-n’t un-der-stand.” Blood spatters down from his mouth and onto his pants.

  It’s like artwork.

  My beautifully made canvas.

  “You wouldn’t.” I shake my head at him, feeling irritated. “I am Audrey. And she is me.” I point at my chest.

  “Wh-ere … Au-dr-ey?”

  “She’s resting at the moment. At times, Audrey sees me as if I were standing in front of her. And other times … like now, she sleeps, and it’s just me. She has no idea that we coexist in the same body. And she doesn’t need to. It works better for both of us that way. I had to take over because she’d found my things.” I gesture with the knife to the other items on the windowsill. “And I knew that Audrey would try to do the right thing. Because that’s Audrey. She’s a good person.”

  “Mur-ders … you.”

  “Yes. All me.” I smile. “The murders in Chicago that your brother is sitting pretty in prison for right now. And I know what you’re thinking … Why him?” I shrug. “He was an easy target. He had a stupid crush on Audrey, and she had no clue he existed. But I did though. I knew. I know everything. And the police investigating the murders were getting suspicious. They were starting to ask Audrey too many questions. It had been my error to link them to her in the first place. So, I had to take the direction away from Audrey and me. And you have to know, cutting her that night, terrorizing her, it wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I had no choice. I had to sell the idea that it was Tobias. It was the only way.

  “I’d killed her adoptive parents as well.” While I’m here, I might as well give him full disclosure. Not like he’s going to be able to tell anyone, and I’m enjoying my little story time.

  “Although I didn’t get to have as much fun with them as I wanted. But I did get the most pleasure from killing those two. And I know you’re probably thinking, Why didn’t you kill them years ago? And the answer is, I didn’t know I could.” I shrug. “Wasn’t sure I was capable of it. But turns out, I am, and I’m damn fucking good at it.

  “You see, when Audrey left for college, I figured it was over with that sicko. But when she graduated, she didn’t have a job to go to. No money to fall back on. So, she went back home. To that fucking house. And it started again. He started raping her again … well, me. Because it’s always me.” My hand curls tight around the handle of the knife. “So, I decided to make it stop. Only wish I could have cut him open like the pig he was. But it would have been too messy. Too many questions. The cops would have looked straight at Audrey. It’s always the family they look at first, and Audrey was set to inherit everything—the house and money. So, I … tampered with their car one night before they went out for dinner. Millions of people die in automobile accidents every day.

  “Annoying thing was that Audrey wasn’t happy they were dead. She actually mourned them. But that was my error. I had protected her, shielded her from everything, so she never really knew who they were.” I sigh. “She was just so sad. Honestly, it was starting to bug me. So, I decided to try and cheer her up. I left her notes. Little gifts. To make her feel special. Let her think she had an admirer. But it didn’t work. She was still fucking depressed.

  “There was this bird that used to sit outside her bedroom window; it used to chirp nonstop. Honestly, it was like nails on a blackboard. I thought getting rid of that would make her happy. And it was fun, snapping its little neck. The cat next door was shitting all over the flowers in the garden. I knew it bothered her. So, I killed the cat. But she was still fucking sad.

  “Then, one day, Audrey seemed to be perking up. She actually went out to get her hair done. And the bitch at the salon was awful to her. Some stuck-up receptionist who made her feel like an inconvenience. Audrey went home and cried. I was so fucking mad. It was the first day that she’d actually started to feel better, and that bitch brought her back down.

  “So, later on that night, when it was dark and Audrey was resting, I took a knife with me and went back to the salon … followed that receptionist cunt to her house … and made her feel bad for a while until she stopped feeling anything at all. I left a note for Audrey, letting her know it was a present for her. Not like I could take the body home and leave it on the doorstep for her. It wasn’t until later, when I saw it in the press, that she looked like Audrey. Weird, right? But I kind of liked it too. It felt good. And we all need a little something for ourselves, right?”

  I look over at Jack, realizing I got a little lost in my own story.

  And he’s dead.

  Ah, shame.

  I missed watching him take his last breath.

  I do enjoy that part. Almost as much as watching the blood … the life seep out of them.

  Oh well. That’s what I get for talking too much about myself.

  You live and learn.

  Sighing, I stand and tuck the knife in the front waistband of the sleep shorts I’m wearing. I go to the kitchen, put the gun down, and wash Jack’s blood off my hands. Then, taking the gun with me, I go to Jack’s bedroom. I clean it up with my clothes, getting rid of any blood or fingerprints that might be on it, and then put the gun in the drawer in his nightstand.

  I return to the living room and get the bloody cloth and jewelry off the windowsill. I glance around for a place they could have been hidden when Audrey accidentally discovered them.

  I see a high cupboard in the kitchen.

  I take the jewelry and cloth with me. Reach up on my tiptoes and open the cupboard.

  It has some paperwork and a first aid box.

  Perfect.

  I grab hold of the first aid box and carry it over to the coffee table. Placing it down, I open it up. Shifting things around, I put the jewelry and cloth in there, leaving it open.

  I remember the gloves stuffed down the back of the shorts I’m wearing. I have nowhere to put them. I can’t leave them anywhere here in Jack’s apartment. They’re covered in my prints and DNA.

  I shove them further down the shorts, into the panties I’m wearing. I’ll dispose of them later.

  I turn to Jack, looking at him.

  I almost feel bad for this one.

  Almost.

  And only because I know this will hurt Audrey.

  But she’ll get over it.

  She’ll have to.

  Knowing what I need to do next, I take a deep breath. Because, last time, when
I cut this skin, I was doing it to Audrey, so I didn’t feel a thing.

  But this time, I’m cutting myself. I can’t let Audrey come back right now. I have to play Audrey and see this thing through myself.

  She won’t accept this.

  She won’t understand.

  I walk over to Jack’s lifeless body, standing in front of it.

  I see movement from the corner of my eye and notice the cat—Jack’s cat—walking casually into the living room.

  It stops and stares at me.

  “Suppose you heard all of that. Not that you’ll be telling anybody.”

  God, look at me, turning into Audrey, talking to a damn stupid cat.

  The cat looks at me for a second longer, and then with a swish of its tail, it walks into the kitchen.

  I watch it for a moment longer until it disappears behind the counter.

  Then, I take the knife from my waistband and curl my hand around the handle.

  Gritting my teeth, jaw clenched, I press the blade to my skin, and I start cutting.

  A slash on my arm. One on my thigh.

  I never got to feel this the night I cut Audrey … because it was me doing it to her.

  But now, I can feel it, and it feels … amazing. Almost … cathartic.

  Like a release I didn’t know I needed.

  I do know though that the cuts aren’t going to be enough to sell this.

  I need to do more.

  With a hard swallow, I grip the knife handle with both hands. I press the blade to my stomach. I shut my eyes.

  And plunge it into my stomach.

  “Fuuuccck,” I cry quietly through gritted teeth.

  Water runs out from the corners of my eyes.

  The knife clatters to the floor.

  I press a hand to the wound and stare down at it.

  Blood seeps between my fingers, turning my skin red. The hands … body that I share with my sister.

  And it’s … incredible.

  The pain … the blood … my blood … her blood … it’s exhilarating to feel and see.

  I don’t want the feeling to end.

  But I know it has to.

  Still, I allow myself a few seconds of enjoyment that I didn’t know existed until this very moment … before the show begins.