Page 131 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
There’s no exit wound since the bullet is so small. Some people think that makes a weapon less effective. Not necessarily true. If the bullet is small enough, it just bounces around inside of you and fucks you up good. Looks like that’s what just happened to Mitch.
Kali doesn’t seem at all bothered to see her boyfriend lying dead on the floor at her feet. Even Tom looks bored by the situation.
“Get this cleaned up,” Ophelia orders, putting the gun away, and then gesturing at Mitch’s body with her purse. There isn’t a ton of blood, but it is leaking from his head to stain the rustic wood floor planks. “I have a dinner party tonight, so I won’t be here. I assume you’re staying?” She removes a white handkerchief from her bag and then dabs at the blood on her face, wiping it clean.
“I’d like to attend the dance,” Kali hazards, shrugging her shoulders. “But somebody has to watch Aaron.”
“You don’t need to go to the dance,” Ophelia corrects, adjusting her attention to me. “If you’re right about Aaron, then we no longer have any use for Bernadette.” She turns to leave, as if the conversation is over, but Kali stands up, following a few steps before Ophelia glances back at her with an annoyed expression on her pretty face. Tom just follows along like the pet dog he so very clearly is.
“We can still kill her,” Kali argues, gesturing with her pink acrylics. “Double down, make sure you get the money.” Ophelia doesn’t seem convinced, nor does she look like she wants to have an argument with someone she considers an underling.
“My darling, listen up. When you get older, you’ll understand that the quickest route between two points is a straight line. I don’t need to kill that girl and have my son start hunting me in the dark. I’ll do it, if I have to, but I like your idea of using Aaron instead. Let’s stick with the plan, shall we?” She turns away, ignoring Kali’s protests, and I hear the creaking of stairs shortly after, followed by the front door. Somewhere outside, an engine turns over and the sound of tires on gravel drifts up and over to me.
Mitch is still lying on the floor, bleeding everywhere, while Kali stares after Ophelia with a deep-set frown on her face. She looks back down at Mitch and sighs.
“God, this fucking sucks,” she grumbles, bending down to grab his arm. In heels and booty-shorts, Kali starts to drag the dead boy toward the door and into the hallway. A few short minutes later, and I can hear the awful sound of something tumbling down the stairs.
Son of a bitch.
This is not looking good for me, not at all.
I close my eyes and test out the bindings on my arms and legs, but there’s no give, none at all.
If I’m going to get out of here, I’m going to have to use Kali’s obsession with me to do it.Hael HarbinBernadette looks positively miserable as she steps into the living room in the flouncy pink cocktail dress we stole from downtown Fuller. The top part is made of lace, and it’s almost entirely see-through save for some sparkly appliques over the pale mounds of her breasts.
If circumstances were any different, I’d probably be creaming my pants right about now.
As things stand … I sort of just want to kill somebody. Preferably Vic’s mom. What a psychopath she’s turning out to be. He’s convinced that she has Aaron, and honestly, at this point, I don’t see who else possibly could.
If the Charter Crew had him, we would’ve either received his corpse on our doorstep in the morning, or else they’d have called us to, at the very least, gloat, if not just torture us with the sound of his screams.
So there’s something bigger at play here.
Ophelia motherfucking Mars.
“Blackbird,” I whisper, because I can’t stand to see her upset. It kills me. I don’t like seeing women upset, period. After all the horrible things my father’s done to my mother, I just can’t take it. Add in the fact that I am crazy, head-over-heels, stuck in the clouds in love with this chick, and her sadness just consumes me. She sighs, holding her black high heels in one hand and sitting down on the bottom step to put them on. “This is a good thing, right? If Ophelia has Aaron, then he’s still alive.”
“We don’t know for sure that she has him,” she says, sliding her feet into the strappy black shoes and buckling them on. “And if she does, I don’t see what going to the winter formal is going to do to help with that.”
I kneel down beside her in the outfit she picked out for me: black slacks, a pair of boots, and a black button-down with white skull and crossbones cufflinks. We all have the same outfit. It’s kinda sad, considering Aaron’s is still lying on his bed upstairs, but I can’t start thinking like a nihilist here.
