“Red?”
Every bone in my body cracked under the pressure of dread when she scratched at the basement door. She whined, scratching harder as she turned her head to look at me and then nudged at the door.
The handle felt hot under my touch, my imagination going wild, and as soon as I pulled the door open, Red scurried down ahead of me, her urgency making my heart race.
My feet dragged down each step, fear pulling at each muscle and making movement slow and awkward.
Nothing but silence greeted me. The dark depths of my own basement became terrifying and foreign, the undiscovered playing tricks on my mind and building the tension in my body.
And finally I took the last step.
The very pits of hell couldn’t ever exhibit the horror that greeted me. Rivers of blood couldn’t ever replicate such a gory scene. And never in my own nightmares could I imagine something so sinister.
Kloe was on her knees, her small frame lost in the reservoir of blood that washed around her. Her face was down, her focus on her knees as she remained still and silent.
My butterfly knife sat by her hand, her fingers uncurled as though she had only just that second dropped the offending object.
My gaze lifted to the swinging chain. My stomach lurched and I blew out the rancid air that had curdled in my lungs. Terry’s head was all that remained, the terror portrayed in his eyes, the last thing he’d ever witnessed displayed in his petrified gaze. The rest of him was scattered in piles around the floor.
Red whimpered again, knocking Kloe and gaining my attention.
“Holy -fu…” The expletive evaporated from Robbie’s tongue when his foot landed on the step behind me.
My body was frozen in shock, the numb parts of me refusing me any movement.
“Kloe?”
I didn’t think she’d heard me, her name coming from me in a horrified whisper.
She turned slowly, her head spinning on her shoulders like some fucking horror movie. Her vacant eyes found me. “I made him tell me, Anderson.” The chilling tone of her voice made my throat constrict.
My heart vaulted and air left my lungs in a rush. “Tell you what?”
Her eyes dropped for a second before they once again found mine. “Who.” She shivered and licked her lips, the blood that coated them smearing with the wetness. “Who,” she repeated.
I grimaced as I stepped towards her, my feet slipping in the guts that made a pathway to her.
She looked up at me, her beautiful eyes blinking as I lifted her into my arms. “I didn’t believe him.”
I nodded.
“So I made him pay for lying to me.”
Vomit was hurrying up my throat with the sweet but bitter smell of all the blood. I carried her through the house, and quickly switching on the shower, I stepped inside the cubicle, both of us fully clothed and her covered in more than fabric.
The hot water washed over us, pummelling us with torrents of blistering heat and driving the clog that clung to her towards the drain.
I moved my gaze away from all the shit piling up against the plughole and started to strip Kloe out of the soaked clothing, throwing each item onto the bathroom floor.
She let me take the lead, her calm despair frightening me. Her eyes were wide but unseeing, her heartbeat steady against my hand when I washed away what was left of my father, and the rhythmic way her chest heaved had me shivering with shock.
“What did he tell you, Kloe?” I was almost too afraid to ask but I needed to know.
Her eyes narrowed. “Lots of things.”
“Okay. Are you going to share?” I tried to keep my voice calm, my mind focussed on her bathing as I directed the jet of water over her head and started to wash away the fragments of bone and intestines that clung to her curls.
She stared at the wall and sighed. Her gulp was loud as she tried to swallow her own vomit. The foam from the shampoo ran down her face and she closed her eyes. At least she was lucid enough to understand what was happening. I was scared she’d fractured the last remaining sane part of her mind and become so lost inside herself that she’d forever see the hideousness of whatever had just happened.
“I’m so sorry, Anderson.” Robbie spoke quietly from the bathroom door, watching us warily.
I shook my head. “This isn’t your fault.”
Turning my attention back to Kloe, I gently wiped at her, the stain of blood proving difficult to wash away.
“I thought he was dead. He’d always been dead,” Kloe said. “I always thought he was dead.”
I frowned, but stayed silent, willing her to go on.
“And all this time, all that time, so long ago, they were already planning how fate would ruin us.” She twisted her head and stared at me. “Did you know that, Anderson? That they knew each other. That’s how my mother met him, why they fucked me and you.”