Black and White

Chapter 2

We shove our phones back in our pockets and head to the bikes. In the dark, I can't tell navy blue from black. I stare at them for a moment, before deciding that my bike is the slightly less black one.

"Wrong bike!" Hannah yells.

"Curse my color blindness!" I yell. Then I pause. "Is that even a word?"

Hannah just shrugs.

I pull on the new leather gloves, and Hannah follows suit. Then i climb onto the other bike and put my helmet on. I flip the visor down and turn on the navigator. The screen lights up and an arrow pointing down the road appears.

Hannah and I come from a rich family. Our dad works all the time, and mom is almost always painting. So we only talk at dinner and then it's only about our grades or something. We get basically anything we ask for all the time.

So when we asked for motorcycles, they didn't even flinch. And then next day we had two brand new bikes.

We speed off around the corner, Hannah in the lead. We reach the speed limit and pass it. Weaving in between cars and trucks, we arrive at the neighbor hood in record time.

I check my watch. Five fourty. Gives us twenty minutes to set up. No big deal.

We pull up behind the house and lay out bikes in a bush. We remove the helmets and toss them in the bush as well. The house is a sensible little place. Small, but enough for two people.

"Alright, I'll grab the cling wrap, you check the door." Hannah whispers. I nod and run to the back door on silent feet and grab the handle. I wiggle it around several times and, sure enough, the lock clicks and the door opens.

I let out a shrill whistle and Hannah runs up with the wrap. She nods and we slip inside. The layout is very simple. Kitchen, living room, foyer. That's all we need.

"Let's go." Hannah says, ducking into the living room and sitting down behind the couch. I follow her and we sit in silence. Only a few minutes pass before the door opens.

I can't see over the couch, but I hear keys clicking onto the kitchen counter. Hannah pulls out her chloroform and a rag and soaks it in it. My head spins with the fumes for a moment, but then I steady.

The man bustles around in the kitchen for a while, then i hear floorboards creak. The a whump as the man sits down on the couch. He removes his shoes, then sits back and let's out a satisfied sigh- which is abruptly cut off when Hannah lashes out and covers his mouth and nose with rag.

He only struggles for a moment before going limp.

I step out from behind the couch and Hannah lays the floor in cling wrap. I keep his limp figure in the couch as Hannah lays down layer after layer of wrap, each one smaller than the one before until it's just big enough for a man. The man himself is pretty large, and his mustache is as thick as a squirrel tail.

Hannah steps back and I shove his body onto the wrap.

I take a small vial of poison from my bag. Hannah raises an eyebrow.

"Poison?"

I nod. "It's safest."

Hannah shrugs.

I pour a good amount of the poison in his mouth. He foams for only a moment, convulsing. Then he stops, and I check his pulse.

"He's done." I say.

Hannah nods. "Get to work then."

I pull out a lighter and burn off his finger prints. Then I kick his mouth until all his teeth are broken or down his throat.

I douse him in lighter fluid and drop a match on him. His body burns quickly. Hannah tosses acid drops on the parts that dont, then we wrap him up. Seventeen layers of cling wrap go around him. Then we pick him up and toss him into the body bag.

"It's your turn to carry him." I say.

Hannah sticks her tounge out, and I laugh.

We carry the bag out to the bike and stand them up. I throw the bag over Hannah's lap and she gags.

"UGH he smells like burnt steak." She complains.

I nod. "That's cause he is."

She rolls her eyes and we take off. We ride to the farthest lake within 100 miles from his home. When we get there, she lays the bag down, and I grab the axe.

"This part sucks." I say and Hannah agrees.

I raise the axe and bring it down on his body several times, until he's sufficiently in pieces.

Then we drive around the lake, throwing in one piece at a time, several hundred yards apart. This method hasn't failed us yet. Not one victim has been found.

For obvious reasons, we've come to be called the Drowning Duo.

Hannah and I then strip off our outer layers of clothing, which have blood and other fluids on them, and burn them with the gloves. Then we kick the ashes into the water.

And our job is done. So we drive home as quickly as possible, as Dad gets home at three am, and it's one in the morning now.

When we get home, we put out bikes in the garage and slip inside. We remove the black face paint and change into pajamas.

I flop onto my bed and Hannah onto hers. We share a room, even though we don't have to. Out parents think it's because we love each other.

It's actually because we don't want to get murdered in our sleep without a witness.

I sigh and shove my face into my pillow. "Five hundred bucks is not worth that much energy." I whine.

Hannah laughs, but I can tell she's tired too. There's a pause, in which I almost fall asleep. Then Hannah speaks again.

"Why do we do this?" She asks.

I turn my head so I'm facing her. "Well I don't know about you, but i do it because I've never seen anything in this world worth not killing people for."

Hannah thinks this over. "But the world is so pretty!" She says softly.

I snort. "It's black and white, Hannah. It's not pretty."

Hannah sighs. "That's not my fault. You haven't met your soulmate. So what?"

"So the world is ugly and I don't like it. That's what." I say.

Hannah sighs and rolls over. "Whatever, Lannie. Goodnight."

"You asked!" I say indignantly.

Before I can think about it anymore, I fall asleep.