𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 ✔️

♡ Chapter 17 ♡

The snow falling down lands in my hair as I rush toward the gate. 

I call out a 'Hello' a few times, fog coming from my mouth every single time that I do.

But finally, after the third time, the door swings open.

Michael pokes his head out and questions, "Azalea?"

"Hi!" I say cheerfully with a smile. "I did it again, and really need to use the bathroom."

He shakes his head as he steps out of the building and starts walking toward the gate. 

"You're silly, Az," he says while opening the gate for me. "Go on in, sweetheart."

"Thank you so much!" I say happily over my shoulder as I walked past him. My cheeks were already red from the cold.

I step inside, the heat from the building warming me as I followed Michael toward the bathroom once he reached the door. 

I looked around. People were working on the floors above, but none on the main floor.

Once we reach the bathroom door, he smiles and gestures for me to go in. I smile widely at him before stepping inside, "Thank you so much."

I enter, and shut the door behind me.

I walk around. I pace. I feel like I need to poop but I don't even though there's a toilet beside me because I'm too busy eating at my nails while overthinking everything. 

But I pause, hearing Michael speak. 

"Yep. He killed the entire fucking group of them," I hear him say, which I imagine is into his phone. "So, new plan. I haven't been in contact with Joesph yet so I haven't had time to give him the address and have him go do it himself. So you group of ten go, okay? The address is 987 Partridge Road. Kill the boy, then kill Ricci once he gets there."

My ear and hand press against the door as I listen. 

Slowly, I drop my hand, and take a step back.

I turn and look at the toilet. I ask loudly so that he can hear me over the door, "Hey, Michael? Are you able to come in here? The toilet looks like it's broken."

"Oh, shoot," he mutters.

He opens the door, and steps inside.

I move back to give him room to step to the toilet. I stand behind him and watch as he hunches over the toilet, lifting the top of it. 

He looks around for a few moments and shrugs, "It looks okay. Lets see if it flushes."

He puts the lid back on, and watches it as he flushes, and the water goes down perfectly.

"It's working just fine," he smiles while turning back around to face me.

I slit his throat with the knife that I had in my jacket pocket. 

His eyes widen, and he tries to scream, but he can't because of how deep I cut him. The blood from his neck sends splatter across my face, but it doesn't even make me blink.

He stumbles back, laying down on the ground as he continued to attempt to scream. The sounds that came out of his mouth were horrid, yet I felt no guilt. The bathroom was covered in his blood, and his bloody handprints were smeared against the toilet from when he fell.

I continued holding the knife as I looked down at him. And slowly, his eyes went still, and he stopped making noise.

His fingers twitched a few times. 

And then stopped. 

I step over his head body, and grab his phone out of his pocket. I dial the last number he called.