Trust Me, I'm Not Dead

1.1

Trust Me, I'm Not Dead

"I'm serious, I didn't stuff him in the closet." Carter shudders at the thought and continues to speak arrogantly, "I prefer to do things with class."

The yellow of her livid eyes matched up to the meal someone had attempted to dispose of.

Her usual comfortable and quite homey kitchen was stained in a dark red. There was a path of scarlet blood on the blue of her ceramic floor tiles leading into closed closet door.

"Please; the only type of class you have is that at school." Her mother's expression turned sour and she clasped her nose between two fingers, as she'd often seen actresses do in her favorite dramas. She walked in front of the body, where the ceramic would definitely have to be replaced, and squinted her eyes. "Then who was it, Carter?"

Camille Montgomery sauntered to the door, leaving the dead body at her daughter's literal disposal. Without a ray of hesitation, she flew straight into the blinding sun and disappeared after a click.

The young woman wrinkled her nose in annoyance and grunted out, "Fućk, this is the third time this month."

She sighed and turned around, anxious to get her hands on a bag and thirty bottles of bleach.

Carter was irritated and hungry. Someone had to dispose of a body in her house, around her snacks. This was unacceptable. Someone had to pay, and quickly.

The mess having been cleared away by a depressed and angered female, Carter hurriedly grabbed her belongings and mounted into her car.

The drive was less then twenty minutes, and within seconds of finding a parking spot, Carter sprinted into the majestic four-story house. She didn't knock, refused to, in fact, and burst the door open with her hands. She stopped a second and inhaled deeply, her eyes flashing dangerously, before exiting and entering her gloomy car once more.

She was on the hunt now, and the prey couldn't get away.

Upon entering the crowded shopping mall, Carter headed for the fountain, where her victim awaited. She reached the area in seconds and, with no warning, yanked on the poor, soon-to-be-dead brother and yanked harshly on his hair.

Oliver Williams grunted from the sharp pain inflicted on him by his devil-of-a-sister. He knew why she scouted him, and, quite frankly, didn't get what the big deal was. His usual dumping site was already starting to get full, and with the constant risk of human exposure, he headed toward the place he knew he could count on, the kitchen. Initially he was going to stuff his leftovers in the oven, but he usually went there to eat, so thought of it as improper. That was when he saw the closet.

Naturally, he shouldn't be blamed. He did what he saw suited his tastes. Not that Carter would be so understanding.

"You bastard!" Carter gripped his hair tighter, "A person can't live in peace, can't they?"

When one of his bodyguards tried to free him from her clutches, Carter glared at him fiercely. The bodyguard knew his limits and retreated quickly. All they could do now was wait patiently for the body of their master to be delivered to his home. Preferably intact, but one could only hope. Oliver let out an exasperated gasp. Those bodyguards worked for him, not Carter.

What did it take to get good help these days?

Gosh, Sister is so scary.