Page 27 of Mourning Wings
I’mscrewed.
Valerialooks back at me. “Areyou coming?”
Ishake my head to dispel my thoughts. “Doyou even know where you’re going?”
Justas she’s about to answer, a figure emerges from the shadows.
12
VALERIA
Ronnietakes a step forward, and that’s whenIsee a man stepping out of the shadows like a nightmare come to life.Inhis hand, he’s holding a large knife, the blade streaked with red.
“Whatthe fuck?”Ibreathe, my voice trembling.
Hedoesn’t say a word; he just tilts his head slightly, studying us, as if deciding what to do next.Then, he starts toward us, slow and deliberate, the knife catching the light with each step.
“Run!”Ronnieyells, grabbing my arm.Idon’t need to be told twice.
Wetake off, our footsteps echoing loudly in the large corridor.Thehallway twists and turns, narrowing in places, the old doors passing by in a blur.Iglance at them, and a chill runs down my spine.
“Thesedoors—Isaw them on the monitors onHalloween!”Igasp, but there’s no time to stop, no time to think.
Theman’s footsteps are growing louder behind us, closer with every second.Weturn another corner, but beforeIcan register what’s happening,Ronnieis yanked backward with terrifying force.
“Ronnie!”Iscream, my heart lurching asIsee the man pulling her down to the floor.
Shehits the ground hard, and the knife in his hand glints as he raises it high.Ifreeze for a split second, terror paralyzing me, but thenIseeRonniefighting back, thrashing and kicking with everything she has.Shemanages to pull out her knife, slashing at his arm.Bloodsplatters everywhere, dark and thick, but it doesn’t stop him.Hesnarls in pain, his mask slipping just enough for me to see part of a twisted, scarred face.
Iwatch in horror as the man’s hand clamps down onRonnie’sthroat, squeezing with brutal force.She’sgasping for air, and a wave of helplessness crashes over me.Ireach into my pocket, my fingers closing around the kubotan, butIknow it’s useless against him.
Desperately,Iscan the hallway, my eyes landing on a small ceramic statue on a nearby table.Irush to grab it—a bust of some old figure, heavy and solid in my hand.Iturn back just in time to see the man tightening his grip aroundRonnie’sneck, her face turning a terrifying shade of red.
“No!”Iscream, running back to them.Iswing the statue down with all my strength, smashing it against the back of his head.Theimpact is sickening, the sound of ceramic shattering mingling with the crunch of bone.Bloodsprays as the man bellows in pain, butIdon’t stop.Ihit him again and again, each blow more savage than the last.
Bloodpours from the gash in his skull.Hisbody jerks and twitches, but he doesn’t let go ofRonnie, his fingers still wrapped around her.She’sstruggling, clawing at his hand.
Withone final swing,Ibring the statue down as hard asIcan.Shardsfly everywhere, and the man’s body finally goes limp.Hecollapses on top ofRonnie, his blood flooding the floor around us.
Idrop the broken pieces of the statue and stumble back, gasping for breath.Theman is dead.Myheart is pounding so hard,Ican barely hear anything else.
Iwatch asRonniepushes the man’s body off her, rolling to her side and coughing, gasping for air.Thehallway is eerily silent now, save for the sound of our ragged breathing.Thesmell of death hangs heavily around us.
AsIstand there, trembling,Ilook down at my hands covered in blood.Itdrips from my fingers, soaking into the fabric of my pink skirt, staining everything.Forthe first time in my life,Iunderstand what it feels like to be depraved.
I’venever come close to killing anyone before, but whenIbrought that statue down, again and again, something broke inside me.Therewas a rush—an unexpected high that flooded my veins, a feeling of power that made me unable to stop, even whenIshould have.Itonly pushed me further, drove me to keep going until his body was nothing but a broken, bleeding mass on the floor.
Andnow...
Now,Ican’t stop shaking.
Istagger back, choking on air that feels too heavy to breathe.Therealization of whatI’vedone crashes over me like a wave, andIfeel sick.Mylegs give out beneath me, andIcollapse onto the blood-soaked floor, tears streaming down my face.
I’mterrified of whatIdid, of whatIfelt, the thrill of it.It’sas ifIwas living inside the mind of a killer—and for a moment,Iliked it.
Thethought sends a shudder through my whole body, andIsob, my hands trembling asIpress them to my face.Theblood smears across my skin, butIcan’t stop the flood of tears.Iglance down at my clothes, once a soft pink, now drenched in deep red.Thecolor seeps into everything, staining me in waysI’mnot sureIcan ever wash clean.
“Valeria,”IhearRonnie’svoice, strained and hoarse, but it feels distant, like it’s coming from another world.