The woman screams through the cloth as I run the knife down one cheek, drawing warm sticky blood.
More, more, more, the voice commands. Make it last.
I move down to her throat, holding the red stained weapon just against her skin, causing her to shriek again.
"Shut up", I hiss before slicing through the skin, getting the job over with. "I don't like it when you scream."
Her body goes limp, straining against the ropes binding her to the pole as she breathes her last painful breath.
"Nice job", Morona says from the doorway. "Next time, I'd suggest a little more torture."
I set the knife down on the table before turning to face my friend, who grins and holds up her own blade, also stained with red water. In the other hand, she holds a cup, which she tosses my way.
I catch it easily before holding it to the dead woman's face, letting the blood stream down into it.
"Thanks for the advice, Morona, but I'm not the Dusk Killer", I respond finally, holding it up to my lips. "I'm my own person. I'll stick to my way, and you can stick to yours. Okay?"
She snorts but doesn't reply, strolling over to me and sets her knife down next to mine.
"I'm trying to help you."
"I'm doing fine."
She opens her mouth to respond, but Gemma's voice stops her, calling to us from upstairs.
"Guys! Get up here NOW!"
We exchange glances, but run upstairs, sliding to a stop in the living room, where our friend holds up a finger to her lips and points to the radio.
"The search for Theresa Moore, Morona Feller, Gemma Jenkins and Noah Rahsen go on, and while the FBI has an idea to their location, no moves have been made to bring back these young adults.
"Another search going on is the search for Jake Mendala after his escape from prison. There is no evidence suggesting his location."
I switch off the radio and turn to my friends. "We have to get out of here", I say. "Where's Noah?"
"In here!", the young man calls from the kitchen before coming out to look at us. "And you're right; we should leave immediately."
Morona sighs, but nods, already heading down the hallway to her bedroom.
"Aren't you going to pack anything?", I ask the others, who shake their heads. "Then start the car. I'll be there in a second."
Noah salutes and leads Gemma out the door, just as Morona comes back, holding a bunch of white cotton fabric in her hand.
"I found it", she announces triumphantly. "Put on your jacket, Theresa."
"You are not putting that on me", I retort, crossing my arms and turning away. "Just because last time-"
"Yeah. Last time we went on a road trip, you were too long without feeding and tried to strangle Noah, who is the driver, you dumbass."
"That won't happen again", I promise. "I swear."
"Uhuh. Hold still." I sigh, but let her strap me in, grumbling under my breath.
"We ready?", Noah asks, appearing in the room. "We should get going."
"Let's go", I groan. "The sooner we get going, the sooner I can get out."
He chuckles and leads us outside to his car, helping me climb in to the front seat and buckling my seatbelt for me.
"Where are we going?", I ask once we start driving, shifting in my seat to get more comfortable position.
"I'm not exactly sure", the man says. "Any ideas?"
Gemma claps her hands together and asks, "Can we go to Paris?"
"People are looking for us everywhere, Raspberry", Noah answers patiently. "It's too risky. Anywhere else you want to go?"
"Texas", Morona says. "I've had enough of the city for the rest of my goddamn life."
"Any objections?"
Silence.
"Then I guess we're going to Texas."
YOU ARE READING
Feeding Time
Mystery / Thriller"Please, you have to help me." I lift up my head from where I'm sitting on the floor to see the woman with brunette hair and green eyes, tied to a chair next to a large table, lined with knives. I get up slowly, trying to hide my grin. "Who are you...
