Bloody Instinct

1

"Let's go over the rules," Noah said, wiping the blood off his knife. The light from the broken bulb blinking makes Ethan's head spin. "ETHAN!"

"Y-yeah, Rule one: choose carefully, Rule two: location, Rule three: have supplies ready. Rule four: don't get caught, and Rule five: take proof"

"You forget one—rule six: disposal. I want you to do it. Break the body down. It makes it easier to transport. You have the resources. Get to work. You better hurry. If you're not done in ten minutes, I'm leaving you here." 

Ethan ran out of the room and looked for the bag his brother brought with them. Spotting the bag, he goes through it and pulls out a machete. It felt lighter than he expected. Noah made him carry the bag. That in of itself felt like a weapon. When he returned to the room, Noah was on his phone, occasionally looking up now and again. The machete was incredibly sharp as Ethan brought it down onto the dead body. It cut straight through the bone. Good. He wanted to make this go as fast as possible. 

Even before all this happened, Ethan never had a problem with dead bodies. It was the smell that got to him. He'd watched Noah do this a million times by now. He knew what to do. After dismembering the body, Ethan stuffed the body into trash bags. He finished up by wiping the blood and all the surfaces with bleach.

"Alright, I'm done," Ethan says, throwing the bags outside.

"Nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. Honestly, I thought you wouldn't make it. Be honest; you chopped him up like a pro. Tell me you didn't get a rush." 

Ethan started to get used to disposing of bodies. It was his brother's way of easing him into the job. "Maybe a little," Ethan smirked.

Noah's twisted smile grew. "See? I told you. I told you you'd like it. I'm never wrong. Come on, let's get some food."

"Sure," Ethan said, grabbing the supplies bag and slung it over his shoulder. He'd been working with Noah for about two months. At first, he only did it because Noah would kill him if he didn't join him. Ethan didn't expect to actually like how good he was at getting rid of the bodies. That terrified him.

"Oh, hold up! Forgot something," Noah said, opening one of the trash bags. The head of Noah's victim looked back at him. Noah opened his camera and took a picture. "Pictures, or it didn't happen," Noah laughed. "That's number four. I was thinking about what we should do for number five."

"I figured you do what you've always done. You kill, and I clean."

"Yeah, but that's so boring! This is a milestone. Let's mix it up. I want you to make the fifth kill—the whole nine yards. I think you can do it. You should be ready by now."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat. He wants me to...

"Uh, you sure about that? I mean, I don't think I can do it," Ethan said, adjusting the bag.

"Say it."

"What?"

"Murder them. Say it."

Ethan shook his head. "No, I-I can't."

Norah crossed the room so fast it caught Ethan off guard. Noah grabbed his brother and slammed him into the bookcase. Noah wrapped his hands around Ethan's neck. "I said say it."

"Noah! Stop...I...please!" Ethan begged. 

"Say it!"

"Murder! I...can't...murder...them!"

Noah, satisfied, realized him. "There. That wasn't so hard. I'm still hungry. Get in the car. I need to be alone for a second."

Ethan scrambles out of the house and hurries into the backseat. Ethan started to cough violently as soon as he was out of Noah's sight. Once he composed himself, he leaned back and tried to gather his thoughts.