Sacrificial Loyalty

Chapter 11- No way out

Upon hearing the door being locked, Malcolm fought to get out of the strong, one-handed grip, but it was too powerful for him to compete against.

The click of the door being locked sounded loud to Malcolm as if someone had turned his hearing up.

Once he was pulled down to the living room floor, his fight-or-flight mode kicked in.

He grabbed hold of Lachlan's arms that were holding him down, squeezing them desperately as he tried to kick his legs, hoping for some room to escape.

However, this angered Lachlan, and he wrapped his hands around Malcolm's neck, squeezing the air out of him.

In the split second that Malcolm could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness he raised an arm, fumbling around for one of the glass ornaments and then with all the strength he had, smashed it into the side of Lachlan's head, causing him to flinch and groan, momentarily releasing his grip on Malcolm's neck.

Malcolm ripped Lachlan's arms off him, pulling himself back and jumping up before fearfully running into the kitchen, looking around for a new weapon.

However before he could find anything that would be appropriate enough to protect himself, a sharp pain cut across the back of his head and a loud, smashing noise echoed around the kitchen, bouncing off the cream-coloured walls and reflecting into Malcolm's eardrums, causing him to wince in pain at not only the agonizing cut across his head, but also the loudness of the smash.

Stepping away from the scene and holding the back of his bleeding head, Malcolm felt himself slipping away into unconsciousness once more.

It didn't take long for Malcolm to completely lose consciousness, and it took an even shorter time for Lachlan to get to work.

Lachlan did not want to see Malcolm alive for any longer, and he watched perversely, enjoying the last moments of Malcolm as he bled out onto his kitchen floor.

After Lachlan was sure that Malcolm wasn't going to get up any time soon, he made his way upstairs, searching through his wardrobe to find an old bedsheet. He eventually came across one, an old dark green one that Lachlan hadn't used since he was 19 years old. That would do.

Heading back downstairs, he began the process, but sighed in annoyance at the large bloodstain that had soaked into his clean, grey carpet. He would sort it later.

Wrapping Malcolm's body up tightly in the bedsheet was no challenge for Lachlan. He was 21 years old with quite a decent amount of strength, so wrapping a small, almost weightless body up in a bedsheet was no problem, and it wasn't even a problem when night time rolled around, and Lachlan was ready for the next step of his plan.

It had taken Lachlan quite a while to remove the blood from his kitchen carpet, and there was still a small stain there, reminding him of what he had accomplished that night.

The night was becoming dark; a few stars shined across the sky with more life than the body in Lachlan's arms, which was currently being carried effortlessly into the back of the car, and as Lachlan opened up the boot of the car, another interesting sight met his devilish brown eyes.

A woman's body.