The Pain That Grows Us

Chapter Twenty- Six

"Ryan?" Alice's voice echos around the basement that is now silent, thank fuck she didn't open that door five minutes ago. There are some sounds you can't forget, and a power tool going through bone is one of them.

"He isn't down here, Alice." I call back, he doesn't have the stomach for this. Damon on the other hand smiles at me like he wishes we had another body to cut to pieces and dip in fucking lye, and to think I could have had some help this whole fucking time.

"Where the hell is he then? I have been looking fucking everywhere for him." she groans as the door to the basement slams shut.

I am so fucking thankful we built a house with a fucking basement. This would be a nightmare to hide from her otherwise. Damon pulls the empty oil drum out of the corner it has been sitting in for the past couple of hours. I stare down at the pieces that if you assemble them carefully would make Anton Levine again, but that would only be after hours and hours of trying, even then I don't know if you could put him back together right. Damon and I went a little crazy with the power saws and other power tools we used.

"If we get him into a bag we can carry him upstairs." I tell him, staring at the giant garbage bags that are filled with several other bodies. "We have to get rid of them all tonight. Take advantage of the clouds in the sky."

"We are going to need more than one trip." he adds, gloved hands grabbing at what I think was Anton's arm before throwing it into the last empty bag that we have opened.

"If we get the others to help it shouldn't take too long." I grunt, scooping some of his insides up and dumping them into the bag.

"We look like fucking serial killers. You know like the ones you hear about on the news." he frowns looking down at his coveralls that are dripping with blood and guts.

"Now you know why we got the fisherman grade covers. We don't need to be tracking this shit around the house." I grab, I actually don't know what body piece I grab and throw into the bag. It's better not to think about it.

"Danny and Ryan can carry the oil drums up the stairs, and get them loaded into the truck. While Zane helps us carry the bodies through the house without Alice seeing them. I don't want to hear Ryan bitch at me again because she saw something that looked like a fucking foot."

"You want me to stay behind and clean up?" he asks getting the last bit of Anton in the bag, poor fucker had no idea what was coming his way. He should have just handed us the money, maybe he would have lived another night. Now we will never fucking know.

"No. I can clean up tonight. You just get the bodies taken care of." I yank off the gloves and throw them down on the bloody metal bed that only medical examiners seem to have. I don't want to ever hunt one of these fucking things down again, it was a fucking nightmare.

"You ready?" he asks, grabbing two bags.

"Yeah." some sick motherfuckers the bunch of us, they should lock us up and throw away the fucking key.

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The dark truth is this. It doesn't matter how good you are, what you do, who you love or how strongly you love them. We all end up dead. One way or another we all end up dead. It's the days in between your birth and death that matter.

The blood is bright as it mixes with the water from the hose in my hand, swirling together until it goes down the drain. Washing away any evidence of what Damon and I did here tonight. Damon was right, the shit we do is the thing they make documentaries about. It wouldn't surprise me if they found a way to bury this so no one ever heard about it. This isn't the life they want to advertise to the public, this isn't the kind of thing they want to encourage people with. Afterall my brothers and I will continue to get away with this until the day we decide to stop.