The Serial Killers (Complete)

Raelyn04/05 11:01 PM

"RIVER!" I stumbled out of the bedroom, Jericho on my heels.

The lights flickered, sending us into violent mixtures of darkness and flickering candlelight as the ambiance lights set into the wall gave their last breath. Finally they give out altogether, plunging the both of us into a darkness broken only by the afterthought of a raging inferno in the livingroom.

My hands rake the crumbling drywall as we tear our way towards the epicenter of the heat. Jericho slams into my back as I stopped, mid-step. River's scream rippled through the air.

"RIVER!" I scream once more.

The hallway gives way to the living room in a final labored breath. There in the middle of the room is the man in the tuxedo, the masked figure who had murdered the Sheriff and Lex, the psycho who had kidnapped Kate, Matthew the Assassin and the demon who now straddles River, drawing a glimmering blade across her pale skin. Blood bubbles where the knife kisses her skin and he teases another shriek of terror from my tortured friend.

"AHHH!" I wail, barreling towards him, planting my shoulder into his chest. We both fly backwards, his head inches away from the fire that consumes the couch and entire west side of the cabin wall.

Matthew let out a primal roar, shoving my body from his chest. He swings the knife wide and I is all I could do to dodge the serrated edge. Gone is the machete, designed to terrify rather than actually kill. He is the Assassin now, and I realize with cold dread that I am extremely outmatched.

"Matthew!" Jericho bellows, holding a gun squarely at his cousin's chest.

The demented body cocks his head and the burlap mask twitches as he grins. The voice that follows is stunningly melodic, even somewhat heavenly. I think dimly of a fallen angel as the blade presses to my throat.

"Cousin," he sings, voice bleeding anticipation and something else, something dangerous and foreign.

Jericho clicks off the safety and plants his feet firmly, he's done this before, I can tell. "Let them go, you have what you want. You have your blood."

Matthew chuckles, digging his knife deeper into my throat, drawing blood. I fight the urge to yelp. "All blood is mine, it is my choice whether or not I spill it."

"What have you done?" Is all Jericho can say in return.

It was clearly not what Matthew wanted to hear. His next words are barely a hiss, grating against the clear, musical tone of his voice like sandpaper. "You never thought of me as your equal. The boy with the golden heart, the orphan who wouldn't hurt a fly. Even after my mother showed you the true faith you never changed your ways. You are sick, cousin."

Now it was Jericho's turn grate out the harsh punishment of festering hatred. "True faith? Do you even hear yourself, you deranged piece of shit?"

I silently beg Jericho to stop antagonizing the man holding a knife to my throat. Out of the corner of my eye I watch as River shifts, coming to. A breath of relief courses through my veins, she's still alive.

"Deranged?" Matthew tests the words, like a puppy sniffing at meat for the first time. He seems hungry, starved for something to classify what he's felt his entire life. However, the word obviously offends him because he brushes it off. "I am no such thing."

Jericho takes several steps closer, his gaze suddenly more intense. "Get off of her."

No one notices River creeping across the floor. Instead, Matthew only presses down harder, blood pools in my neck and runs down onto the floor. I feel it's warmth cutting paths across my skin. "I can't do that, cousin."

Seconds creep by while they stare at each other. One unwilling to kill one of the only family members he has left and the other itching to finish his deed but unable to because of his fear of death. Ironic that he should feel that way.

No one expects the gunshot, least of all me, but as the corpse of Matthew falls heavily onto my back, I realize with sudden clarity that it is not Jericho who fired but the scarred girl pressed against the wall for support.

I squirm out from under the assassin's body, keeping low to the floor to avoid breathing in the already suffocating smoke that hangs low over the cabin. Heat sends a mixture of blood and sweat down my body and I'm panting before I even reach River.

Her face is a mess. Deep ugly gashes run down from where Matthew sought to carve her face. Bloody lines trace her lips and zigzag across her temples. I clutch her to my chest and for once she doesn't shy away from the endearing touch.

"Don't you leave me," I whisper.

Her voice is thick with emotion. "I feel cold."

Her eyes flicker over where a piece of wood had impaled her abdomen and I hold her tighter to me. "Tell Kate that I'm sorry."

"You need to tell her yourself," I reply. A tear rakes down my cheek and lands in her hair.

I'm still holding her the moment life leaves her body.

Suddenly a beam, charred yet still flaming, crashed to the floor from the ceiling and lands in the pool. Jericho reaches for River, scooping her up from under the arms. "We need to go, now!"

We crawl towards the door, my knees and hands gathering cuts from the imploded glass littering the floor. I cast one last glance over my shoulder at the wreckage of the cabin, back to where Matthew's roasting corpse lays. I expect to see the demon walking amongst his flames, instead all I see is ruin and the legacy of a murderous family set to burn.