Chapter 14: XIII. MICHAEL BRANDWOOD

When I first joined this group, I thought I would struggle to get them to keep up with all the wild shit I would want to do to win and survive, but from what has happened recently, it seems like they don’t need my help in that regard at all. Them going that hard during The Badlands was one thing, but letting those Winstanley fucks drain our blood? That's something else. To be fair, Khalil’s always seemed a little mad, he looks calm but you can see it in his eyes. Like a controlled madness. Any group led by him is going to end up in some shit. Is Khalil all to blame for the madness that has been going on though? Or is it Dubois' fault? Just the thought of a taste of that cure could make a person do anything.  Not going to lie though, most of the group, I couldn’t care less about. But Grace? That’s whose madness I’m concerned about the most. I think I might have pushed her too far. Sure I was mad at her for not picking up the slack during The Badlands, getting me beaten up and knocked out and all, but I was going to forgive and forget eventually. She didn’t have to put on that whole show at the Winstanley’s. Draining herself three times. What possessed her to do all that? You can’t tell me I’m at fault. Well, it seems the others think so. I’ll need to have a talk with her later. We’ll need to sort this out. 

At the crack of dawn, I’m on my motorcycle driving far away from the house, across the greenfields and down towards the nearest shore I can find. As soon as I find myself away from dead grass and bloodied concrete and instead surrounded by sand and stones, I stop my journey and get off my bike. I stand just before the shoreline and look out onto the deep blue sea ahead of me. But it’s not like I’ve become sentimental over the sea or anything. No, I’m out here for another reason - Brandwoods. 

Even before the mist came, my Mum and I were the only Brandwoods in the country of Renyland. My brothers Brandon, Jacob and Oliver all went on a holiday trip together, a cruise ship that stopped off on a tropical island where they were going to practise mountain biking and Muay Thai training. The dream trip. I was meant to go, but then Mum got sick and someone had to stay and look after her. But then she just ended up dying anyway. Now they’re all off somewhere across that sea, whilst I’m still here on my own. The annoying part is that I know they’re all still alive and well together. We’re not like others, we’re not the type of people to die very easily. I wish I had them around to help me survive this mist-Dubois-cure infested shithole of a society and not these lot. Khalil, Isabelle, Cameron, Lysandra, Elena…Grace. Could do without some of them. But I made my choice when I asked to join this group. It’d be weak of me to not see it out with them until the end. Or until their end…

I return to the house, it still being quite early in the morning. From the sounds of it, it seems that people are awake, earlier than they’d usually be. I think Khalil mentioned that today might be the day that we take the plunge and go get that cure from Dubois. I’m guessing we have enough money now. That’s one thing to look forward to. 

I walk into the kitchen, ready to ransack the cupboard for whatever rotten meat rations we have left. When I step in though, I’m met by Elena who not only blocks my path but keeps giving me this weird joking look. 

“Morning Michael.” Elena says, greeting me with a nod. A smirk is slowly forming on her face.

“Morning.” I greet back nonchalantly. I direct myself towards the cupboard only for her to shift her head and block the view, forcing me to look into her eyes. Ok, now it's like she’s doing it on purpose. I’ve not talked to this “Elena” girl much and I don’t plan on starting. Aside from being Khalil’s new fuckbuddy now that he’s seemingly bored of Lysandra I don’t see any need to pay much attention to her. 

“Excuse me.” I tell her as I try to move past her to get to the cupboard. I step to the side and she steps to the side also. She looks me deeper in the eye, in a kind of flirtatious way. Right, now it's like she really is trying to annoy me. 

“Do you fucking mind?” I ask her. 

“No, I don't mind at all.” Elena chuckles. 

“Shouldn’t you be shagging Khalil somewhere?” I ask him. 

“Shouldn’t you be shagging Grace somewhere?” Elena asks back. Fair enough. I can’t help but match her cheeky smile. I’m still not happy she’s in the way though. 

“Well I’m going to need some more energy if I want to get back to it, aren't I?” I ask her rhetorically. “Which I can’t do if you keep blocking the damn food cupboard.”

“Oh right.” Elena chuckles with a sigh, as if she didn’t realise she was annoyingly blocking my path. With a step to the side, Elena’s stupid gorgeous face was out of my way, I can get my daily meat fix.

As soon as I get my ‘breakfast’ I’m able to leave Elena’s presence but I’m quick to enter the presence of someone much more annoying. Cameron. I see his lanky ass sitting there, sprawled across the stairwell with his long legs almost tripping me up as I try to go to the living room. What a waste of height he is. I grunt as I look towards Cameron, ready to make his timid ass cower like it usually does whenever the two of us meet eyes. But Cameron does not look at me. He doesn’t even seem to realise I’m anywhere near him. He just stares forward, blankly. But not in his usually dopey fashion. It’s like he’s thinking about something. Thinking about something that’s deeply worrying him. He’s still acting strange.

“Cameron.” I mutter to him. 

“Oh hi Michael.” Cameron says, finally acknowledging my existence. He looks towards me and I see the cowering look that I was expecting. But as we lock eyes I feel my instincts taking over. Without thinking, I feel compelled to grab Cameron by his shirt collar and start throttling. And I do exactly that. 

“Hey! What the hells the matter with you?” asks Cameron, his frightened eyes glaring up at the flared nostrils of my upturned face. 

“What are you hiding?” I interrogate him, strengthening my grip. 

“Michael! What-”

“Tell me Cameron, what are you hiding?!”

“You’ve been acting so fucking strange recently. Shifty, really shifty.” I say to him. “Tell me, what are you hiding?!”

“Why the hell would I be hiding anything?!” Cameron questions with annoyance. As he stands to his feet he pushes my hands off of him and glares at me. I feel like rocking his face with a punch right now, but weirdly the fact that he’s sort of standing up for himself here is making me kind of like him more. No punch in the face…for now. 

“Everyone else might not be picking up on it, but I have a keen eye on these things. You’ve done something and I know it.” I say. 

“Listen Michael, I get you don’t like me and all, but that’s no excuse for you to start attacking me for no reason.” Cameron says to me. “I’m not hiding anything or doing anything bad, so just leave it.”

Looks like someone is feeling bold today. For once, Cameron actually acts his height and stands his ground, looking down on me with a pissed off gaze. Guess you can only keep pushing a person so much until they start to push back.

“We’re this close to getting Dubois’ cure.” I remind him, gesturing a small pinch with my fingers. “And if it turns out you did something that’s going to ruin our chances at the last minute, then me ‘attacking’ you will be the least of your worries.”

Cameron scoffs. He turns around and leaves to go to his room upstairs, grumbling something underneath his breath. He can act as outraged as he wants, I know I’m right. Somethings going on with him that he’s not telling the rest of us. Something that’s going to cause us some major trouble. 

I continue to spend the next hour or so in the presence of the best company, my own. Past the fence of the backyard of the house is a forest-like area with lots of random bushes and dead tree bark. I come out there to practise my shooting. In my actual home I had an actual target that I could fire off rounds at, but this will do. I wasn't the only one who seemed to be practising shooting as well. I think I saw Lysandra in the backyard trying to practise with a bow and arrow. And she looked serious about it too. Guess Camerons not the only one acting differently nowadays. 

When I return back to the house again after my session I spot another person sulking about on their own. Isabelle. She sits at the table with one hand sunk into her kinky hair and the other hand glossing over that notebook she's always got her nose stuck in. I've never gotten a good gauge on Isabelle. On one hand I respect a girl as stern and bold as she is. On the other hand I can't stand someone so rigid and stuffy. Either way she's better company than 90% of the people in this damned group. 

"What the hell are you always writing?" I ask her right out the gate, ignoring the usual pleasantries people often start a conversation with. I'm not in the mood for beating around the bush though. 

Isabelle glances up from the paper and lowers her eyes down on me. I think what she's trying to do is use that vacant glare of hers to shoo me away. But I'm not someone weak willed like Lysandra or Chambers, so I just glare back until she realises it won’t work.  Isabelle sighs. 

"Just trying to make sense of…all this.” Isabelle sighs. From her gestures I assume by all this, she means the shithole world around us. Personally I gave up on making sense of it a long time ago. 

“And does writing a bunch of numbers, dates and symptoms do that?” I ask her flippantly.
“I’m collecting important information about the mist disease and its effects.” she tells me, making sure to emphasise the air of condescending-ness that her voice naturally comes with. “Someone has too…”

“Is this like some weird thing that entertains you? Cause I don’t see how that’s a useful way to spend time.” I tell her. Isabelle shakes her head at me like I said something really stupid. 

“What do you think’s going to happen if somehow or someway, Dubois’ cure doesn’t work as well as we’re all anticipating it to?”

“We’ll all be fucked?”

“Precisely, we’ll be fucked.” Isabelle says. “And eventually we’ll all need a Plan B on how to live with the fact that this disease is slowly killing us and adapt to our situation, hence why I’m collecting this information. So no Michael, it’s not entertainment. It’s quite the opposite.”

 “Right.” I answer back with a sigh. Talking to Isabelle always feels like being lectured by…well by a lecturer. Or at least what I assume a lecturer sounds like, I never got the chance to go to university. Which in a weird way makes this more annoying. 

I leave Isabelle to her ‘world-saving’ scribbling and exit the kitchen. I climb the now thankfully Cameron-less stairs and make my way back up to my room. On the journey there I pass by Khalil’s room, or from what the sounds that come from there - Elena’s playhouse. 

I take a moment to listen to the irritating noises that constantly escape through that door. It’s the same noises almost every single time you leave them two together. You know the type of noises I’m talking about, the ones that two people do when they love each other too much. Jesus, it makes me think about how annoying Grace and I must have been to live with when we were at it like that. 

Speaking of Grace and I…I think it’s about time I address the elephant in the room. I’ve not been seeing her much recently and its been entirely on purpose. I just don’t know how to handle all that shit. I don’t want to talk to her right now. Not about the Badlands, not about the Winstanley drainings, not about nothing. But at the same time, I feel like I kind of have to. If I keep avoiding her like a pussy its just going to make everything even more weird, right? Probably. Whether I like it or not, I’m going to have to talk with her eventually. Should probably get it out of the way as soon as. 

I walk towards Grace’s room at the end of the hall and immediately burst the door open, ready to do this as I'll ever be. But as soon as I see her on the bed I start to regret my decision. 

 

"Afternoon Michael." Grace greets me. 

Grace turns to look at me slowly from her seat in her bed. She's sat up there with a dirty pillow behind her back, looking like she hasn't moved from that spot all day. Her eyes bagged and tired and her skin deathly pale.  When she locks eyes with me, she gives me this blank look. From the moment I've met Grace she's always been bright and jumpy, sometimes too jumpy even for me. But right now, she's all calm and weathered. Like a nice old lady who has come down with an illness. Don't like this...I don't like this at all. 

"Afternoon Michael?" I scoff at her. "What the hell was that? Since when have we ever greeted each other that way?"

"Sorry. I'm not in the right state to greet you like I usually would." laughs Grace, wiping her lips. I can't for the life of me figure her out right now. Why's she acting so goddamn strange? Guess that's what I'm here to find out though, isn't it. 

"Are…are you doing okay, Grace?" I ask. "You look like you're fixed to that bed permanently."

"I do...who knew draining pints of blood could make your body weak am I right" laughs Grace weakly. Damn, now I feel really bad. Feel like maybe I should apologise  or something. 

"Grace…I'm  so-"

"Michael, I think it's time we stopped seeing each other." Grace interrupts abruptly. I don't know what direction I was expecting this to go in, but it wasn’t this.

"What? Why?!" I question, a little more outraged than I'd like to admit. I walk further into the room and plant myself right beside her on the bed. I need to make sure I'm hearing this right. 

"We're not good for eachother, Michael." Grace sighs. 

"Says who?!"

"Says everyone."

"Well maybe 'everyone' doesn't know what they're talking about."

"I don't know, I think they do…"

Grace removes her hands out of the covers to reveal how deathly pale and bruised her arms have become, especially around the areas where the needles went in. Yeah, that doesn't really help my end of the argument.

"Do you see this?" Grace asks as she waves her dead arms about. "This isn't the product of a healthy relationship."

"Every couple has their moments." I joke to alleviate the depressing as hell mood in here. It doesn't.

"Do you  know why I was so quick to get with you in the first place Michael?" Grace asks me. 

"Because I'm rakishly good looking and surprisingly charming?" I joke. This one, she actually laughs at. 

"Well yes." Grace chuckles. "But you know there's more to it than that."

"Go on then. Tell me." 

Grace takes a deep breath then sighs it back out. 

"It's because you were an escape." Grace admits solemnly. Me? An escape? I have a lot of questions about that, but I keep them to myself. I should probably wait for her to explain before I say anything though. 

"Before you joined the group…my Uncle Bradley had died." Grace tells me. "I know what you're thinking. Big deal. People die all the time nowadays. And I would agree but for some reason…it really hit me deep. Knowing I was the last member of my family alive has really 'shaken' me for some reason…"

Man this got deep really quickly. 

"I, uh. I'm sorry to hear that." I say to her. I'm not sure if I am, but that's what people are supposed to say in these situations isn't it. 

 "There was a moment I realised that I won't be able to distract myself from how bad I was feeling about life….but then you came along."

But then I came along?

"When I saw you Michael…I was amazed. People say I'm wild, but you're wilder. People say I'm bold but you're bolder. And people say I don't really let things phase me, but you're the one who is truly unphased. And when I was with you? I could pretend I was unphased too." 

"That's one way of putting it I suppose." I say to her awkwardly. I don't know if I'm the one being strange but I don't see a problem with any of that. If anything, all those were reasons why I loved us together. I let out  a  chuckle as a reflex to it all, unable to hold back the confused smile that comes across my face when things get too deep like this. This is really bringing something out of me for some reason. 

"I'm sorry Grace but…I still don't really understand where all this is coming from."

"What about it don't you understand?"

"How any of what you said meant we shouldn't be together."

Grace sighs and looks away from me. I scooch over closer to her on the bed and take a grasp of her hand softly. Grace looks down at her hand held in mine then looks back up at me with tender eyes. I fucking hate getting all sappy and shit, but I feel just a little bit of sappiness is needed here. 

"You said it yourself Grace. We're bold and free…you might not think you're as bold and free as I am,  but that’s not how I feel when I’m with you. I like being around you. You're one of the few people I've ever liked being around. People like us? We need to stay together to get through it all. We need to stay together…"

I hold intense eye contact with Grace. A long stretch of silence takes up the conversation as she looks at me blankly. What's happening now? Is she considering it? Is she changing her mind? Did I convince her? I still can't tell what she's thinking from the look on her face. 

Grace leans in to kiss me softly on the lips. I expect her to fully indulge in another one of our makeout sessions, but as soon as she kisses me, she draws her face back away  from mine. 

"Sorry Michael." whispers. "But no."

I expected her to say no, but it still comes as a surprise to me. Really? She's going to end things just like that. I give Grace another intense look of pleading eyes. But they don't work. Not even a little bit. She turns over in bed, sinks herself within the covers and shuts her eyes tight. 

"Bye Michael." Grace says quietly. Guess that's it for us then.

 I leave Grace’s room and head back to mine. I honestly can't believe she just ended it like that. What for? We had a good thing going! Didn't we? Well, maybe we didn't…but still, why'd she have to do that? Now I don't want to sound like a sappy cunt again but…us together was the last good thing I had in all this. Now what the fucks the point of waking up every morning?

I leave Grace's room with my eyes practically fixed to the floor. I quickly learn a lesson in watching where you're going, immediately bumping into someone as I get into the corridor. 

"Shit, sorry." I say to the person, only to look up to see Elena’s shitty grin in front of me again  

"You better keep your eye on the ball, Michael." Elena laughs as she rushes past me. I don't know where she's going but it seems pretty urgent from how she's hot-stepping out of here. Usually I'm the one pushing past people and making shitty jokes. But instead I'm out here apologising for bumping into Elena’s dumbass of all people. 

You see, this is why I hate getting all sappy. I stop making sense. Of course there's still stuff for me to wake up every morning for. How could I forget the whole reason I came to this damn group in the first place, even before I knew about Grace. We're a few pennies away from Dubois' sweet relief. I leave my room again for one of the spare rooms.  From what I can remember, that's where we keep all the cash. The cash for the cure. 

Entering this room you’d think it was just the smelly hoarding den for a weapons-obsessed kleptomaniac who doesn’t know you’re supposed to put dirty clothes in the laundry instead of on the floor , but it’s actually the most important room in the house. Because once you clear all of the stuff from on and around the bed and lift up the crusty mattress, you find a hole underneath a second mattress where you can find a little chest in it. A treasure chest to keep all our money. Isn’t that cute?

This isn’t the first time I’ve checked up on how much cash we have as a group. I do it all the time. Khalil likes to keep that information to himself and keep the chest locked up tight, but I don’t see why, he knows I’m just going to pick it again, no matter how many times he changes the lock. So you can imagine my surprise as I went to check our treasure chest again only to see that not only is there not only no lock on the chest today, but the chest itself is open and completely empty…

I go to Khalil’s room and fling open the door immediately. I should knock, but with Elena running off doing God knows what, I assumed it would be safe to enter without the risk of interrupting their fun. That is unless Khalil was having “fun” with himself in here. Thankfully he isn’t, he’s just sitting on his bed and staring out the window like a brooding bastard. As per usual. 

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“Where did you move it?” I ask Khalil. 

“Move what?” Khalil asks. 

“The money man, nothing in the chest.” I explain. “I know you don’t like me touching it so often but there's no need for you to hide it and all.”

Khalil’s bushy old eyebrows push together in a shocked and confused glare. He stands up to face me properly.

“The money’s not in the chest?” 

“Yes Khalil, the money’s not in the chest, we’ve established that.”

“Then where the fuck is it?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.”

“Did  you hear anyone else say they were moving it somewhere?”

“No, did you?”

“No…”

Khalil and I stare at eachother like a couple of confused dementia patients. As if we were both trying to silently figure out what the hell was going on. If he didn’t move the money and I didn’t move the money and no one else in the house said anything about moving the money, then where the fuck could it have gone? It takes me a few seconds longer than I’d like to admit to figure it out. But I’m glad it didn’t take any longer or I would have been kicking myself. It should have been clear to me from the second I saw that empty chest. I think I know exactly where that money has gone…

“For fuck sake!” I exclaim, slamming my hand against the wall. Khalil continues to hold that confused dementia patient look on his face. I turn around and storm out of the room. I’ve not got the time to wait for him to catch up. 

“Where are you going?” Khalil asks me. 

“To hunt down and kill your bitch of a girlfriend.” I snarl back at him. 

And kill her I will. 

"Michael! Wait!" I hear Khalil shouting from just outside the house as I reel my motorbike out of the compound and onto the deserted streets of the outer-neighbourhood. I don't think enough time has passed for her to completely leave our sights, but I still need to track her down before she gets too far. No wonder she was in such a rush. I didn't even think anything of it. Fucking Elena. I think I was wrong to just assume Lysandra's distrust of her was just jealousy. Perhaps rich girls' instincts are stronger than we think. Or, she really is jealous and this is just a fucked coincidence. It hardly matters, after I crush Elena’s skull and get our money back, it'll make no difference. 

I follow the faint tire tracks imprinted on the road to figure out where Elena had gone. They take me away from the neighbourhood and onto a muddy green field about a mile away. This is where the tracks stop completely. It doesn't take me long to figure out where Elena could have gone from here. I drive my bike around the outskirts of the muddy forest looking for clues and quickly stumble upon a big one. One of our group's stolen cars seems to have been stolen back from us and crashed itself into a tree. The crash looks to be a devastating one, with the entire front end of the car crumpled to shit. I look inside the car's front seat, hoping to find Elena’s dead body but nothing's there unfortunately. I leave the car and head towards the muddy forest. Lysandra isn't the only one whose instincts are firing up. I'm definitely on the right track. 

"Where are you, you prick." I whisper to myself, pacing through the forest with the largest-fuck-off rifle I could find from the weapons room. I know Khalil probably won’t be happy with me pumping his girl full of lead. But he probably should have thought about that before getting back with a traitor. Grace was right to be sceptical of her based on her past with their little “gang”  . Grace seems to be right about a lot of things people don’t want to admit nowadays. 

I listen carefully to my surroundings. Whether that crash was intentional or not, something is clear. Elena stopped here either as a diversion or a desperate getaway after the vehicle got totaled. So if I listen carefully and play my cards right, I’ll be able to snuff her out of here in no time. 

I hear the sounds of light squelching from a collection of bushes and leaves ten feet tall next to the bog at the end of the forest. Someone with less keen senses might have left that be and assumed nothing more of it. But I know better than that. 

Without wasting even a second's worth of time, I start to unload hundreds of rounds into the bush and the surrounding area. I’m not doing this shit where the person you’re hunting gets the chance to run away and hide and tactically think things out, I’m ending her shit right here. 

After desecrating the bushes and leaves of the bog, I go up to inspect the bushes, pushing through them with the top of my large-fuck-off rifle. But as I sift and search, I see no signs of Elena’s stupid smug bloody corpse. Hmm. It seems I may have jumped the gun here. 

Once again I hear a series of squelching footprints, but this time coming from behind me. My great reflexes allow me to turn around in time to see exactly what I was hunting for trying to turn the tables on me. Elena stands a few steps away from me holding a similar  high-powered rifle as I am. It looks like she was steadying her shot, if I was slower to turn around by even a second I would have been the one who’s stupid smug bloody corpse would be pumped full of lead. There’s still time for either of us to meet those fates though. For now, we both point our fuck-off rifles at eachother, wishing the other motherfucker would. 

“Funny, we seem to keep bumping into each other today.” Elena jokes. I glare in disapproval of her stupid snarky comment. I don’t know if she expects me to quip back with something, but I’m not about to do that dumb shit. Silence is the only acceptable response here.

As Elena and I continue our standoff, I notice something strange. Every other second, Elena breaks eye contact with me to look around the forests and bogs that surround us. But it's not from a lack of confidence, Elena doesn’t strike me as the type of person who struggles to maintain eye contact. It’s something else entirely. It’s like she’s looking to find something…or looking to keep track of something she has already kept. Interesting…

“Are we just going to keep pointing our guns at each other for no reason?” asks Elena.

“You don’t have to, you know.” I tell her. “You could always drop yours, surrender and let me shoot you.”

“I don’t know why, but something tells me that’s not what I should do here.” Elena snarks. “How about you drop your gun instead and I shoot you, I like that idea much more.”

“Something tells me that’s not what I should do here, Elena.”

“Then we’re in a bit of a conundrum. If neither of us is going to drop our guns, then what else are we to do with them? ”

“Shoot.”

“Right, shoot.”

“Go on then…try it.” I goad her. “Shoot me.”

“You first.” Elena goads back. The two of us tighten our grips on our guns and maintain our aim at the others chest and body regions. Whoever shoots first can end this whenever they want to. But they’d have to be careful. We’re both incredibly good at this. So if either shoots first and somehow manages to miss or make a mistake, it could mean that the one who shoots second might actually come on top. That’s the reason for my hesitance, so I assume it's the reason for hers. But at the same time…we can’t stay in this standoff forever. 

With speed and urgency I dive to the side, simultaneously flinging myself out of Elena’s line of fire. As I dive to the floor I pull the trigger of my gun. Elena anticipates this however, having started to dive to the side herself as she lets off shots of her own. The majority of Elena and I’s shots miss each other by a slight margin as they both dive to the ground. One of Elena’s bullets manages to catch me by the left hand, grazing my hand and causing me to drop my gun to the ground below me . And whilst all my shots miss Elena’s body entirely, they hit her gun with enough force to knock it out of her hand and cause her to drop it into the sinking bog.

“Shit!” Elena exclaims as she clammers to pull her gun out of the sinking mud. I pick my gun back off of the floor.  As Elena struggles to reach for her weapon, I take the time to reload mine. The bullet that grazed against my hand causes a large bruise to form on my hand, making it an annoyingly painful process to reload. As I finally reload my gun I steady my shot to shoot at Elena. When I go back to point it at her though, Elena is no longer scrambling in the mud and is instead scrambling towards me. Fat chance . I point to shoot at her, only for her to step out of the way a sheer second before the rounds let off. As I prepare for the second shot, Elena is close enough to grab my rifle by the barrel end and shift it away from her before the shot goes off. The insane recoil of the amount of bullets that fire into the sky causes the gun to jump out of both of our hands and onto the floor. I’m quick to try and grab the gun, but Elena is quicker to kick it out of my grasp. She kicks me in the face too right after that, just for good measure. I pull Elena down to the ground and wrestle and beat her into submission. But as I do so, Elena fights back with great force, biting, scratching and everything. 

“Khalil really knows how to pick them.” I grunt, as the two of us struggle on the floor. 

“I was thinking the exact same thing.” Elena chuckles. 

“You’re going to give back that money if it kills you.” I snarl at her. 

“Somehow, I don’t see that happening.” Elena snarls back. 

I get Elena into a wrestling chokehold, by legs constricting her body and my hands constricting against her neck. Elena bites down into my arm in an attempt to free herself from my strangle. I try my hardest not to let it affect me so I can keep strangling her, but with each bite it proves harder and harder to do so. 

“Fuck sake!” I shout, finally giving up my hold on Elena. Free from my grasp, Elena stands up and kicks me in the stomach repeatedly. As I tense my abdomen to brunt the pain of Elena’s attack, I start to see red. How am I struggling this much to kill this prick of a girl? How the hell has she managed to get me in a position like this? She’s really starting to piss me off. I’m really starting to piss myself off with all of this. I’ve got to stop fucking around and end this now. Ignoring all the pain that flows through my body courtesy of her constant kicking, I push Elena’s foot away from me and stand back up on my own. As soon as I’m up Elena tries to punch me in the face. I anticipate her punch, catching it within a closed fist with my right hand and grabbing her shirt with the other. Before Elena can wriggle her way out of my grasp, I hold her tightly and slam her against a tree behind us. I slam her head against the tree, then hold her in place with a throttling hand, making sure to sink my dirty fingernails into her bloody neck. 

I look at the rifle on the floor. Now that I’ve got Elena where I want her, I can blow her body to bits with bullets. But as I choke the life out of Elena up against this tree, a much better idea comes to mind. 

With a firm grip around her neck, I drag Elena away from the tree and towards the bog. Elena thrashes and struggles to get out of my grasp, but it’s not useful to her whatsoever. I get to bog and violently throw Elena down towards the sinking mud, keeping myself on the edge of the grass. Elena tries to get back up to feet but I stop her with a brutal stomp kick to her chest. I unleash a stampede of relentless fury on Elena’s chest, stepping on her continuously until she starts to sink deeper into the mud. Yes that’s right, struggle. Elena tries to grab hold of my leg to stop the beating. Not on my watch. I start to beat Elena again, but this time with my fists. I punch, punch and punch until she gives up on grabbing at me. Then, I take mud from other areas of the bog and throw it on top of her, covering up her body with it as I continue to punch her face and stomach. With her body mostly covered by bog mud, I execute the final part of my great. 

“No…Help!” Elena desperately gasps as I push her face down underneath the bog mud with one hand and bury her with more with the other. No ones going to help you now. Like I said, she should have thought about this before she decided to take our money. Elena desperately tries to keep her head above the mud, but a striking elbow to the face puts an end to all that. 

“Good look breathing through all this!” I laugh throwing more mud in her face as I force her further and further into the forest shit heap. 

I shove her down there to the point where I can no longer reach her face with the punches. It’s done. It’s finally done. No more of that stupid smug gorgeous face, no more of those annoying weird noises coming from Khalil’s room. No more Elena Velasquez. 

Now, all I have to do is find the money. Though that’s a way easier task than getting rid of her. During our stand off I noticed she kept looking around at this general area, like she didn’t want me to risk finding where she kept the cash. And what do you know, that’s exactly where I find it. Poorly and  hastily buried away in a tight plastic bag in another part of the same muddy bog she now stays under. Shame you can’t take it down to hell with you, you  thieving bitch. 

I return on motorbike to our house's general area with the stolen bag of money, angrily seething. I can already tell how they’re all going to treat me when I get back. Khalil’s going to give me a mountain of shite for killing his fucking girl even though she betrayed him again. He better not though. No one better say shit about shit or they’ll end up in the bog too. 

When I return to the front of the house though,it was clear that none of what I anticipated to go down was going to go down. I thought I’d come back and have to explain myself and rationalise why I killed Elena to Khalil then start an argument over how I helped them get back their money and they should be grateful. You know, all that shit. But as soon as I parked my motorcycle at the front of the house I saw that they all had something else entirely to focus on. I saw a cataclysmic shitshow of immense proportions.

Everyone but Grace is out on the front lawn of the house, Khalil, Isabelle, Lysandra, Cameron the whole lot of them. For some reason, despite none of them being injured, all of them have blood stains on their clothes and bodies . Isabelle stands at one side of Khalil with her arms crossed and a disappointed look on her face, swapping out her lecturer vibe for a schoolteacher one. Lysandra stands to the other side of Khalil, her hand tightly clasped around her mouth, trying to force herself not to burst out in loud cries. Brooding bastard Khalil stands still and strong in the middle of them, brooding as ever, with his fists clenched and his eyes glaring down at Cameron. Cameron, who has the most blood on him, kneels down on the ground begging, pleading and crying for forgiveness. And the most interesting sight in all of this, next to Cameron’s feet on the floor…is the decapitated head of a young child on top of a note of paper written in blood. What. The fuck. Have I just come here to find…

“What in the ever living  fuck is going on here?!” I ask them as I step off of my motorcycle and make my way towards the scene. 

No one is in a rush to answer me.  Isabelle looks at me then looks back at the decapitated child's head, moving her mouth around like she’s trying to stop herself from vomiting everywhere. Lysandra doesn’t even bother to look at me, burying her face in her hands again. Only Khalil is willing to look at me and talk, though even he takes his sweet time doing so. 

“Ask him.” Khalil says, staring me in the eyes as he points down at Cameron. I follow the direction of his finger back in the face of the blubbering Chambers. Still kneeling in a beggar's position, he tilts his body upwards to face Khalil with a red patched face full of tears. “Tell him Cameron…”

“Khalil, please I can’t…” Cameron pleads. Now I really want to know. 

“Fucking tell him Cameron.” Khalil orders.

“Yeah…fucking tell me, Cameron.” I add on. Cameron sniffs violently as he wipes the tears off of his face. Instead of giving me a verbal explanation, he pulls out the grim note written in blood from underneath the rotting child corpse head and hands it to me. 

“The fucks this?” I say, gingerly taking the gross note off of him. 

“Just read it…” Cameron whimpers. 

Fine, let’s see what this says:

“To my dearest Cammy Boo.” the letters heading reads. Interesting start…

“You may recall that the two of us had a deal up and running. And a good one at that. You kept feeding me information about your whereabouts so that I could track and finally kill that cunt Khalil in a discreet location and in exchange, I promised to keep your little kiddie friend from the supermarket safe. Well unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances the deal is off. A spanner being thrown in the works means I’m not able to kill Khalil. It also means that our agreement is  fucking pointless now, which makes me very very angry, but it is what it is. Bosses orders . So you can have your friend back, or part of him at least. See ya later.  Love - Declan O’Gallagher.”

Holy hell, what the fuck did I just read? That letter was a little confusing, but it did prove two things. One - that Declan guy is just as twisted as everyone acts like he is. And Two - I was right the whole fucking time about Cameron. 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve done a deal with Declan behind our backs only for it to blow up in your stupid fucking face... I’d have half a mind to stop you from ever making that mistake again. ” Khalil comments with venom in his voice. I see murderousness in his eyes when he looks at Cameron, causing Chambers to crumble down even further. 

“Khalil please…” Cameron whimpers 

As I crumple up the paper and throw it to the ground, I can’t help but burst out into a fit of laughter that even surprises me. 

“What part of this do you find funny?” asks Khalil.

“All of it!” I shout at him in laughter. “All this time I’ve been suspicious of this cunt Chambers and what he was hiding and now I find out it's this?”

All of the group looks at me as I continue to laugh. Lysandra and Isabelle with confusion, Khalil with a glare and Cameron with whatever weird cry-baby ass scowl that is on his face. It’s quickly starting to piss me off. You know what? I think I ought to wipe it off for him!

I lunge towards Cameron and punch him in the face. The lanky traitor whimpers some more as I start to smack him about like the useless mule he is. I knock his face back with a left jab and leather it to the other side with a right over and over again like he’s my personal punching bag. The little pussy doesn’t even try to fight back. It’s like he wants me to keep making him my punching bag. I’m surprised he hasn’t even tried to swing back at me at least once. I’m surprised no one else has stepped him. 

“Come on, stop that.” Isabelle orders, stepping in between the two of us before I could land another punch, as if she knew what I was thinking.  

“Why should I?” I ask her. 

“I think he’s had enough punishment for today.” Isabelle tells me, gesturing back at the decapitated childs head only a few inches away from us. Oh yeah, I forgot about that for a second. 

“Awful…” Lysandra sighs quietly, not even able to look at the child's head for more than a second. Don’t blame the girl. That’s way too gruesome, even for me…

I leave Cameron alone, stepping away from him. I immediately turn my attention towards Khalil with the wickedest of smiles across my face. 

“You really do think this is all something to laugh about?!” Khalil asks, outraged.

“Oh no I’m not laughing about this specifically.” I tell him. “I’m laughing at the fact that the great Khalil let two people betray him twice! First Cameron, then Elena!

“Elena?” Khalil asks, confused. 

“Didn’t you hear what I said when I left the house in a hurry dumbass? I said I was going to kill your bitch girlfriend for taking our money and I did just that! Just fucking that!” I bellow at  Khalil as I point to the plastic bag of hard cash on my motorbike. Man did I need to let all of that out. 

“Elena…Elena’s dead?” asks Khalil. His voice shaky and anger at Cameron almost completely forgotten. Instead of glaring at him he gives these sad puppy dog eyes to no one in particular. 

“She was no good anyway…” Lysandra comments underneath her breath. Khalil looks at Lysandra as if she had just said something shocking and out of line. But I couldn't agree more. 

“You’re right Lysandra, she wasn’t. But I wouldn’t expect Khalil’s dumbass to realise that. He probably still thinks his stupid fucking fuck-buddy is good and golden. But she wasn’t! And now she’s paid the fucking price for it!”

“You better watch your mouth mate.” Khalil threatens, grabbing me by the collar with force. Without even thinking, I headbutt the shit out of Khalil, reeling him back 

“Come on then you cunt!” I shout at him. Khalil heats up in anger, utterly shocked that I would even dare to do that to him. 

“Stop it you guys…before someone does something they’re going to regret.” says a calm voice from inside the house. We all look over to see Grace standing by the door of the house. Looks like she’s finally mustered up enough strength in her body to get out of bed again. And just in time for the shitshow. 

“Here comes the voice of reason.” Lysandra comments sarcastically. She’s really on smoke today isn’t she? 

“Instead of getting at eachothers fucking throats, why don’t we do something useful with ourselves?” Grace suggests. 

“Like what?!” asks Khalil. 

“Like taking the money Michael just stole back from us and putting it to good use.” Grace says. “With the few extra coins I’ve scavenged, we should be more than ready to go ask Dubois for that cure…” 

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