Read Online Slipway Grey: A Deep Sea Thriller by Dane Hatchell, Mark C. Scioneaux - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dane Hatchell, Mark C. Scioneaux
Ads: Link
“Looks like we’ll have to wait until we get back home before you get another piece of this.” She smiled.
“I can’t wait,” he said.
The two walked into the house and searched for a place to sleep for the night.
Chapter 11
One Month Earlier
She doesn’t care who sees her. This one is personal.
The car is speeding. The reflectors on the road become a straight illuminated line. The girl next to her is laughing. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard. She wants to kill her then. Turn the car into an oncoming eighteen-wheeler. It would be quick and easy. The girl doesn’t deserve that. For what she did, she must truly suffer. But she doesn’t want to kill herself in the process.
They aren’t even close friends; more like acquaintances that run in the same circle. The girl is so trusting. Always eager to have fun. To take a ride in a fast car. She should really get to know someone better before hopping into the car with a stranger.
They enter the house, and the girl walks to the kitchen; opens the fridge like she owns the place, and removes a couple of wine coolers. Glasses clink. The girl toasts to starting over. She raises her bottle and secretly toasts to her victim’s impending demise. The couch cushions are neatly arranged to set a cozy space for two. She tells her to sit and take her shoes off. Keep her totally off guard. It’ll make all of this easier.
“I can’t believe you invited me here,” the girl says. The wine cooler drains in one long draw.
“Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends, right?”
“Well yeah, but we never really spoke that much. I always thought you hated me. And now there are all those awful rumors about me and—”
“Don’t say his name,” she says, gripping her wine cooler bottle tightly.
She fears the girl will sense the deception, and then she’ll be forced into action. Will she gouge out the girl’s eyes, or slice her throat? So many options. Memories of her past kills turn her on. This one waits to become a fantasy orgasm. Each tick of the large clock on the wall is just one constant reminder the girl is still breathing.
“I’m sorry. I really am,” the girl says. “But you should know the truth.”
“You’re going to talk about it, aren’t you? We don’t need to. I don’t even care what the truth is anymore.”
“That’s not fair. I know you invited me out here to talk about him. So let’s just cut the crap.”
She’s perplexed by the girl’s sudden change in demeanor. Voice rising. Fist clenching. The girl is angry, but she is ready. Maybe getting her angry is a good thing. It’ll make what’s to come more fun.
“I want you to know that he came on to me. I’ve been fighting a lot with my boyfriend, and before I knew it, he was texting and emailing me. Telling me sweet things. He said you two broke up.”
“We didn’t, and you knew that, but I’ll get to him later.” She sees red. She doesn’t want to discuss this. The voice in her head starts to whisper.
“I’m sorry. I really am. He took advantage of me. I have nothing else to say. I was really down, and he was there. Surely you have to understand.”
She tries not to laugh at the ridiculous request. The voice starts to talk at a normal volume. She knows it’s only a matter of time before it begins to scream.
“Look,” she says, “I’m over it. He and I were never going to work. You, in a way, spared me future grief. So in a strange way, I’m grateful to you.”
She smiles, and the girl returns it.
“So, we’re friends?”
“Better friends than we’ve ever been.”
They hug, and she inhales the girl’s perfume. Lavender, honey, and vanilla notes fill the air. She’ll try to remember this smell when it’s replaced with bile and blood.
“Do you want to have a drink by the pier? We keep a space cooler in the boathouse stocked with beer and stuff. Seems like a nice night to enjoy the weather and a drink by the water.”
“Sure, it’s a beautiful
“I can’t wait,” he said.
The two walked into the house and searched for a place to sleep for the night.
Chapter 11
One Month Earlier
She doesn’t care who sees her. This one is personal.
The car is speeding. The reflectors on the road become a straight illuminated line. The girl next to her is laughing. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard. She wants to kill her then. Turn the car into an oncoming eighteen-wheeler. It would be quick and easy. The girl doesn’t deserve that. For what she did, she must truly suffer. But she doesn’t want to kill herself in the process.
They aren’t even close friends; more like acquaintances that run in the same circle. The girl is so trusting. Always eager to have fun. To take a ride in a fast car. She should really get to know someone better before hopping into the car with a stranger.
They enter the house, and the girl walks to the kitchen; opens the fridge like she owns the place, and removes a couple of wine coolers. Glasses clink. The girl toasts to starting over. She raises her bottle and secretly toasts to her victim’s impending demise. The couch cushions are neatly arranged to set a cozy space for two. She tells her to sit and take her shoes off. Keep her totally off guard. It’ll make all of this easier.
“I can’t believe you invited me here,” the girl says. The wine cooler drains in one long draw.
“Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends, right?”
“Well yeah, but we never really spoke that much. I always thought you hated me. And now there are all those awful rumors about me and—”
“Don’t say his name,” she says, gripping her wine cooler bottle tightly.
She fears the girl will sense the deception, and then she’ll be forced into action. Will she gouge out the girl’s eyes, or slice her throat? So many options. Memories of her past kills turn her on. This one waits to become a fantasy orgasm. Each tick of the large clock on the wall is just one constant reminder the girl is still breathing.
“I’m sorry. I really am,” the girl says. “But you should know the truth.”
“You’re going to talk about it, aren’t you? We don’t need to. I don’t even care what the truth is anymore.”
“That’s not fair. I know you invited me out here to talk about him. So let’s just cut the crap.”
She’s perplexed by the girl’s sudden change in demeanor. Voice rising. Fist clenching. The girl is angry, but she is ready. Maybe getting her angry is a good thing. It’ll make what’s to come more fun.
“I want you to know that he came on to me. I’ve been fighting a lot with my boyfriend, and before I knew it, he was texting and emailing me. Telling me sweet things. He said you two broke up.”
“We didn’t, and you knew that, but I’ll get to him later.” She sees red. She doesn’t want to discuss this. The voice in her head starts to whisper.
“I’m sorry. I really am. He took advantage of me. I have nothing else to say. I was really down, and he was there. Surely you have to understand.”
She tries not to laugh at the ridiculous request. The voice starts to talk at a normal volume. She knows it’s only a matter of time before it begins to scream.
“Look,” she says, “I’m over it. He and I were never going to work. You, in a way, spared me future grief. So in a strange way, I’m grateful to you.”
She smiles, and the girl returns it.
“So, we’re friends?”
“Better friends than we’ve ever been.”
They hug, and she inhales the girl’s perfume. Lavender, honey, and vanilla notes fill the air. She’ll try to remember this smell when it’s replaced with bile and blood.
“Do you want to have a drink by the pier? We keep a space cooler in the boathouse stocked with beer and stuff. Seems like a nice night to enjoy the weather and a drink by the water.”
“Sure, it’s a beautiful
Similar Books
