Brian, still with trembling hands, was staring at Michelle, his eyes deadly serious and full of anger.
"You thinking about killing me? Huh? You sick bastard! Come on and fucking kill me!" Michelle said, desperate and full of fear. Brian, meanwhile, opened the drawer and moved behind her. From it, he took a rolling pin and struck Michelle hard on the head, knocking her out. He then slightly opened the curtain and looked outside through the window. No one was in sight.
He went upstairs and put on Theo's clothes. He put on the cap and left the house. Before heading to the car he had parked on the upper road, he looked for security cameras on the houses he would pass by through the yard. There were none in sight. He checked two or three houses in detail—no cameras.
He returned to the house, took Theo's body wrapped in the rug, and started walking through the yards. "Damn, this kid is heavy as fuck," he thought to himself. Every step felt like a nightmare. He reached the car, opened the trunk, and placed Theo inside, shutting it again. He looked around—still no one. Then he retraced his steps back to the house.
This time, he took Michelle, but she was far more noticeable to carry. So Brian untied her hands and feet, wiped the blood off her head, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. He took a big swig and made Michelle drink some as well. His plan was simple—if they were caught, he'd claim she'd passed out from drinking, and the smell would help sell the lie.
He left the house again, walking step by step, always checking his surroundings. Carrying Michelle horizontally in his arms, anyone who saw them might think they were a couple in love—unless they saw them in his yard, of course. While passing through one yard, the door of a house suddenly opened, and Brian quickly crouched behind a doghouse. He laid Michelle down and hid himself behind it. The doghouse was empty.
When he turned his head left, then right, he understood—the dog's grave was there, maybe years old. The man stepped into the yard and lit a cigarette. As he smoked, he paced back and forth, looking deep in thought.
"How, how, HOW THE FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN?" the man muttered.
"Fucking horse… couldn't you run faster, you piece of shit horse?" he said.
Behind the tiny doghouse, Brian was cramped and squeezed, trying to stay still and silent, praying the man wouldn't walk to the right side of the yard. If he did, he'd see Michelle's unconscious body—and in that moment, Brian might have to kill him. Brian took the knife from his belt and kept it ready in his hand. He knew there was no other choice if the man came closer.
Luckily, the man finished his cigarette and went back inside.
After waiting another minute or two, Brian stood, picked Michelle back up, and continued on his way. He reached the car, laid her on the back seat, then got in and started driving. As he went, he checked his surroundings carefully—no cameras, no people. Everything seemed flawless.
Brian posted one of Michelle and Theo's photos on Instagram, tagging each other, trying to fool people into thinking they were still alive. He replied to all the messages, eliminating any suspicion.
The plan was simple now. The concrete pouring scheduled for Monday at his construction site would mean both bodies could be hidden forever—maybe for eternity. The only problem: Michelle was still alive, and Brian didn't know if he could kill her.
When he arrived at the construction site, he stayed in the car for a while, holding the knife and looking at unconscious Michelle. One strike could kill her, but the knife would cause bleeding and ruin the rental car. Strangling seemed the best way.
The security guard was in his booth, looking like he was watching TV. Brian could easily slip past him and scatter the bodies in the construction area. But the concrete wasn't until the day after tomorrow. If people noticed the smell, or saw anything, he'd be caught instantly. He had no other choice.
He got out of the front seat and into the back. First, he moved Michelle's legs aside and sat down. Looking at her face, every memory they had together flashed before his eyes—from the day they met, to the day they married, to the day they tried to kill each other.
His left hand stroked Michelle's right cheek. He couldn't hold back the tears, his hands trembling. Then the crushing weight of guilt hit him—the kind that comes with murder. For the first time, he felt the terrifying burden of taking a life. Who was he to have the right to kill someone?
Again, he put both hands on his head, bouncing his leg as he thought. "What am I doing? Wh-what am I doing?" he said to himself. Regret hit him at full force. Then he lifted his head and stared forward—his narrowed eyes under the cap looked dangerous, merciless in the rearview mirror. Everything he'd been through in the last year had even changed his gaze.
The moment he saw himself in the mirror, his decision was clear—there was no other choice. His trembling hands went to Michelle's throat, and he took a deep breath. Then…
He squeezed hard—so hard it felt like her neck would snap. He wanted it over quickly, but every second felt longer than the entire last year. He squeezed harder and harder, tears streaming down his face.
"I've never wanted this—you've made me do this!" he shouted, tightening his grip.
Then the phone rang. Scarlett was calling.
Brian immediately stopped, checked Michelle's pulse—she was still alive. A wave of relief hit him. He answered the phone.
"Brian, you need to come right now!" Scarlett's voice was full of urgency.
"W-what happened? Is something wrong with Love?"
"Come see for yourself," Scarlett said, and hung up.
"You fucking bitch. If you've hurt her, I'll fucking kill you," he muttered.
He jumped into the front seat and floored it, driving fast, his mind racing with a thousand scenarios.
He pulled up in front of the house and rushed inside. The sight stopped him cold.
Love… Love was taking her first steps, and Scarlett was staring at her with her mouth open in a huge smile.
"Heeeeey! Look at what your daughter's doing," Scarlett said, laughing with joy. Brian froze. On the way here, he had imagined her dead—and he had never been so afraid in his life.
"Come here, sweetheart, why are you standing at the door?" Scarlett smiled at him. Her fiery red hair, white tank top, and short black shorts—ending just below her ass—paired with long white socks, framed her as she sat across from Love, ready to catch her if she fell.
Brian's eyes welled up. When Love saw her father, she tried to walk to him, squealing.
"Come on, baby girl! Come on, my beautiful girl!" Brian called, crouching and gesturing for her to come. When she reached him, he scooped her up and tossed her into the air.
Life was strange. Just five minutes ago, he had been about to kill his ex-best friend and ex-wife. Scarlett's call had made his fear spike—and now he was living one of the happiest moments of his life. Deep down, though, he knew it wouldn't last long. The thought of the two people lying in the car wiped the smile from his face.
"Hey, thank you so much, really," Brian said, hugging Scarlett.
"You're welcome, sweetheart, always," she replied, hugging him back.
They pulled their heads back from the hug, but their bodies stayed close. Their eyes met, and they began kissing passionately. Brian held her by the waist; Scarlett's hands clasped behind his neck. The kiss deepened—Brian's hands moved to her ass, Scarlett's to his neck. Then she felt something wet. She stopped kissing him and checked her hand.
It was blood.
"What happened? Did you get into a fight with someone?" Scarlett asked, showing him the blood. Brian froze, unable to answer.
"Brian? Did something happen?"
"Got into it with someone today, punched him in the nose, guess it's from that," he said, but it didn't sound convincing.
While Scarlett wiped her hand with a tissue, Brian went to the bathroom to wash his neck. Scarlett, meanwhile, noticed a different car key on the floor where Brian had been crouching. The spot where Brian usually parked was now taken by a different model car — the one this key belonged to.
She picked it up and went outside. She unlocked the car. Just as she was about to open the door—
"What are you doing?" a voice came.
Brian was standing right there, staring at her. Scarlett couldn't see inside through the tinted windows. She looked at Brian nervously.
"What'd you do?" she asked. He was still right in front of the door.
"Hey, come here, let's talk. I changed the car today—nice, right? Pretty sweet?" Brian spoke as he started down the stairs, arms spread open. "Let's not ruin this moment. Love's inside alone. Then we can go for a drive together," he said, picking up his pace.
As he got closer, Scarlett suddenly said, "Yo- you've killed them, haven't you?"
Brian froze, his eyes hardening, already thinking of a way to catch her if she ran.
"Answer me!" Scarlett shouted.
"Let's talk inside. People will hear," Brian said quietly.
Scarlett looked at him for a moment, then started walking back to the house. She didn't look scared—if anything, she seemed concerned for him. Brian followed her inside, surprised she hadn't run, hadn't shown any fear, and just wanted to talk.
Inside, Scarlett sat on the couch. Brian stood, looking at her.
"I was here all day with your daughter, and you went out to kill people?" Scarlett began.
"I killed Theo yesterday. I didn't mean to, it was an accident, a-and I got scared. Michelle's unconscious in the back seat, Theo's body is in the trunk. Bu-but how could you know that?"
As he said it, fear filled him again. The joy from five minutes earlier was gone.
"Did yo—did you have to fucking find out about that!" he shouted, clutching his head and turning away. He shut his eyes, pursed his lips, trying to stop himself from crying.
Then he felt a knife against his neck.
"Don't move!" Scarlett's voice was deadly serious and quiet.
Brian's mind was spinning. She held the knife to his face and told him to sit down. Then she took the knife from his belt.
"Look, I know killing me is on your mind right now. I'm holding this knife to make sure that doesn't happen."
"I wasn't gonna kill y—"
"Oh, come on. You think I'm a kid? Look at me, Brian. Look into my eyes. What do you see?"
Brian was sitting on the couch, Scarlett perched on the coffee table directly across from him, the knife at his throat. Love, oblivious to it all, was crawling and shrieking happily in the background.
"Fear? Worry?"
"Love," Scarlett answered. "Love is what's in my eyes. Ever since you came up to me in that bar and whispered in my ear, I can't get you out of my head. Those things I said that night when I was high—I meant every word. You're the part of me I lost ten years ago. And Love." She smiled beautifully at him.
"What are you trying to say?" Brian asked, confused.
"I'll take care of Love. Can you take care of the bodies?"