Chaos by Sarah Bailey

Two

Scarlett

The knife pierced through flesh, sinking deep into Mason’s chest. I let out a wail of pain as his body jolted. It decimated me, seeing it sticking out of him with my hand and West’s wrapped around the handle. West had done nothing other than hold on to me. He hadn’t pushed me to stab the knife into the man’s chest with his hand, only with his words. Only the command to kill the man in the chair. To kill Mason.

When I pulled out the knife, I would spill his blood. The idea of it made me sick, but I had to do this. It was the only way to make it quick and painless like West had told me to.

I jerked the knife out of Mason’s chest, watching the blood pool on the white t-shirt he was wearing. Something about it shattered a piece of my sanity. This man hadn’t protected me from my parents. No matter how much Mason had done for me, he’d failed to keep me safe. He’d fucking well failed.

I let out a scream, and then the knife was sailing through the air again. It landed in a different spot this time, but I was already ripping it out of Mason’s chest. West let go of my hand when he realised I wasn’t stopping, but he didn’t move away from me. He stayed at my back, watching me as my hand came down repeatedly, stabbing over and over again. There was blood everywhere, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t fucking well stop.

“Fuck you,” I screamed. “You didn’t fucking keep me safe. You’re a liar!”

It was as if I’d lost my mind. All I could do was keep stabbing him. Taking out all of my anger and frustration at the past ten years of my life. At the abuse I’d suffered. The heartache over not knowing who the hell I was before my accident. Being trapped in a prison and never allowed my freedom. All of it came pouring out of me until I was sobbing and my movements slowed. Then my arm hung limply at my side.

I panted, tears still flowing and mixing with the blood splattered all over my face and arms. I was pretty sure it had got on my clothes too. The thought of it made my knees give out.

West wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me so I wouldn’t collapse in a heap on the floor.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered. “You did so good.”

I stared down at the man in the chair. Who knew how many times I’d stabbed him. His t-shirt was an absolute mess of slashes and cuts. There was blood everywhere. It looked like a damn massacre had occurred.

I’d killed my only friend. My only fucking friend. He was a bloody mess in front of me. A torn, bloody mess.

“What did I do?” I cried out. “Oh my god, what did I do?”

“You did what we asked you to.”

I rested my head against West’s shoulder, feeling my energy leave me in a rush. The man behind me had forced me to kill my friend, but I didn’t have the strength to give him shit for it.

“I killed him.”

“Yeah, you really fucking did, Scar. Just like I knew you could.”

I wanted to laugh, but none of this was funny. My mind was broken. I was a murderer. I’d fucking murdered someone. And for what reason? To make them trust me and to get an in with these men who were actual psychopaths or, at the very least, sociopaths. There was nothing normal about Prescott, West, Francis, and Drake. They stood there and watched me kill someone.

I looked down at myself. My arms were blood-spattered, as were my clothes. The knife was still in my hand. I stared at it. The implement I’d used to massacre Mason’s chest. This was too fucked up, all of it horrifying, and yet I’d done it. I’d fucking well done it. More tears fell down my cheeks. I thought I was done crying, but clearly not.

“Is this enough?” I whispered. “Have I paid your price?”

“Mmm, yes and then some.”

West nuzzled my neck again. I shivered, the coldness of the warehouse hitting me after my stabbing frenzy. West was warm, but shock and horror were rushing through me too.

“I won’t lie, Scar, watching you stab a guy to death is hot.”

It confirmed for me how psychopathic West was, if that kind of thing turned him on. I could feel him hard against my back. Even though his body heat was preventing me from shivering to death, I no longer wanted him near me. This man had encouraged me to kill someone for him.

I shoved him off me. West let go, but not before he plucked his knife from my fingers, as if he was concerned about me turning it on him. No matter how much I hated him, I didn’t think I had the energy to stab him as well.

A loud sound reverberated through the room. It took a second for me to recognise it for what it was. A slow clapping noise. I stared as the source of it appeared in front of us, walking into the light of the single bulb illuminating the room. I took him in, wondering who the hell this was. And fearing the fact he knew I’d killed someone too.

The newcomer had a black shirt on with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and red braces attached to his dark trousers. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing his chest. He had light brown hair, grey eyes and his nails were painted black, but the thing that struck me the most about him was his tattoos. They were everywhere. All over his hands. Up his forearms. Across his chest and his neck. They even went up into his hairline. He was relatively slim, but it didn’t make him any less imposing.

“That was quite something,” he said with a smirk as he approached the man in the chair. “I wasn’t expecting your little waif of a woman to have such a temper on her. Guess looks can be very deceiving.”

He gave me a wink. Then he reached out and tugged at the hood on the man’s head. I was about to tell him to stop, as I didn’t want to see Mason’s face, when he pulled it off completely. My mouth dropped open. And my entire world came crashing down around me.

The man in the chair wasn’t Mason. I didn’t even recognise him.

I backed away, my bloody hand going to my mouth.

What the fuck?

“That’s… that’s not…”

“Don’t worry, he got what was coming to him,” said the newcomer, staring down at the man in the chair with disdain.

“Who are you? Who… who is he?”

I waved at the dead man. The one I’d killed. The one who wasn’t Mason.

“My apologies. I’m Penn Harlow. I… fix things.” He winked at me again. “And this guy? Well, let’s just say he liked young girls a little too much if you catch my drift.”

I wanted to be sick. Turning away, I found the Horsemen standing together watching me and this Penn without any concern in their features.

“What the hell is this?” I waved my arms around. “What the fuck did you make me do?”

“I told you, Scar, a price had to be paid for our protection.”

I stabbed a finger at West, who’d answered me.

“Why the fuck would you tell me it was Mason?”

He grinned. It made me want to slap it off his face.

“To see if you would go through with it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

West stepped towards me.

“Loyalty is very important to us, Scar. We wanted to see how far you would go, whether you’d kill the person who hurt you. The one you think is your only friend.”

He spat the last part as if the thought of Mason being my friend disgusted him. Right now, all four of them disgusted me. How could they do this to me? How could they make me think it was Mason I’d killed? They were insane. All of them.

“So what, you found some random guy for me to kill to prove a fucking point? You’re sick. All of you are sick in the fucking head.”

“He wasn’t a random guy, Scar. He was a kiddy-fiddler. You did the world a favour by getting rid of scum like him.”

I couldn’t believe him. Any of them.

“If this is the kind of shit you get off on, then count me out. I’m done.”

West tutted.

“Now, now, do you think we’re going to let you leave after this?”

I stared at him. He had to be kidding. There was no way I wanted to be anywhere near them. Not after the shit they’d pulled. Not after I’d lost my mind and killed a man they’d told me was Mason, but it turned out he was some random sicko who liked kids.

“Fuck you. If you think I want to go anywhere with you lot, you’re delusional.”

I knew what I’d done was fucked up and wrong, but I couldn’t cope with thinking about it. My mind was shattered. They’d fucking ruined me.

“You’re coming home with us, little lamb,” Prescott said, taking a step towards me.

I couldn’t stand looking at him. Whilst I was pissed off at West, I was enraged when it came to Prescott. He didn’t stop this from happening. He’d made me feel like I had no choice but to kill my friend for his protection. To prove to him I was trustworthy. And yet… I had a feeling Prescott still didn’t trust me, even after this. It was the way he stared at me. He shouldn’t trust me, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.

“How could you do this to me?” I pointed at West. “Him I can understand, but you… you… I thought…”

I didn’t know what I thought. That he cared? Had he ever cared about me? Or I was another fucking pawn in their games.

“I meant what I said,” I ground out. “I fucking meant it. I hate you.”

Prescott flinched, a wounded look flashing across his face. He took a step towards me, reaching out his hand, but it dropped when I stepped back. There was no way in hell I was allowing him to touch me. He could burn in fucking hell for all I cared.

Are you sure? Are you sure you’re not just saying that because he hurt you and you’re mad at him?

My brain could do one.

“Be that as it may,” Drake said. “It doesn’t change the fact you are coming with us.”

My eyes flicked up to his. He and Francis had remained silent this entire time.

“No, no I’m not. There is no way in hell I am going with you.”

Drake stared at me with those terrifyingly calm indigo eyes of his.

“Yes, Scarlett, you are.”

“You can go to hell along with these two.” I waved at Prescott and West. “And him too.” I waved at Francis. “All of you. Go to hell.”

He stepped towards me.

“Where do you think you’re going to go, hmm? You just killed someone.”

Drake’s words slapped me right in the damn face. Where did I think I was going to go? It’s not like I could run to Mason and tell him I’d killed a man who I thought was him. Then he really would send me back to my parents. I had no one else but the men in front of me. No one.

“Him… I’ll go with him.”

I turned and looked at Penn, who raised his eyebrow.

“No offence, but I don’t let waifs and strays tag along with me,” he said with a wink.

He’d been busy untying the man from the chair and placing him down on a plastic sheet, which I hadn’t noticed before. It had been under the chair the whole time. The man’s blood was all over it and not the floor.

“What are you doing with him?”

“Getting rid of him. After all, someone paid me handsomely to dispose of this fucker. Your friends over there asked if I could provide them with someone to kill. Lucky for them, I had just the man.”

Penn straightened. I noticed he’d put leather gloves on.

“Normally I’d send this one away to my friend who likes to rid the world of cunts, but Drake made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

I stared at him.

“What exactly do you do?”

Why I was even asking questions of this guy, I had no idea, but my mind was all over the place.

“I’m a Fixer.”

I’d clearly made a face because he continued.

“I fix problems like this guy amongst… other things.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to know what other things this guy ‘fixed’. In fact, I didn’t want to know anything any longer because everything right now was fucked. And yet my mouth asked another question anyway.

“What the hell did they offer you?”

Penn smirked. My eyes were drawn to the scar on the right side of his face that ran from his ear to his jaw. It only gave him a further air of danger.

“Why, what any man in my position requires, money and a favour to be collected at my convenience.”

He shrugged and went back to dealing with the dead guy. The guy I’d killed.

Stop thinking about it.

I turned back to the Horsemen.

“If you’re thinking about running, I suggest you don’t, Scarlett,” Drake said. “You have five witnesses, not to mention the fact we have what you did on camera. We could quite easily turn you in.”

I stiffened. Whilst running hadn’t crossed my mind, it could have. And after what Drake said, I had absolutely no choice but to go with them. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at them. It drew my attention to the blood all over me again.

“You filmed it?”

“Yes. We need some collateral in case you decide to run from us at any point.”

I had to hand it to them, they’d thought this through, even though it was messed up. Even though it meant I was trapped. My breath whooshed out of me as defeat sunk in.

“Fine, guess I have no other choice.”

Drake gave me a sharp nod and stepped closer.

“First, we need to get you cleaned up. Come with me.”

I didn’t want to go anywhere with him, but what other choice did I have? Francis handed him a bag, and Drake strode off deeper into the warehouse. I hurried after him, not wanting to get stuck with the rest of them. He stopped outside a door and shoved it open. He waited whilst I walked in before following me, shutting the door behind us. The room was only illuminated by the light coming through from a window. There was a sink and a toilet, but not much else.

Drake kicked the lid closed and placed the bag on top of it. He looked at me.

“Take your clothes off.”

I stepped back, banging my back against the sink counter.

“What?”

“They’re covered in blood and we need to dispose of them, unless you want to leave evidence of what you did hanging around.”

I gave him a look.

“Fine, I’ll take them off and wash myself but you don’t need to be here.”

He stalked towards me. I had nowhere else to go when he placed his hands down on either side of the sink from me.

“I think you’ll find I do.”

His eyes darkened. It was the first time I’d ever seen his mask drop. There was a deadly glint to his expression. And I knew I wasn’t going to like what he said next.

“You’re covered in blood, Scarlett.” He inhaled, making me shiver. “I like blood.”