Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“I didn’t plan on talking to you ever again, but then we found out some interesting things,” Blair says, taking the lead. “For example, your little bullshit stunt with us? That’s not the first time you did something like that.”
He grunts like he couldn’t care less. He sits down behind a desk in a cramped room, surrounded by reels and reels of film, and leans forward as he rubs his face. A computer monitor has stills from what looks like a security camera, and I vaguely recognize Blair’s back and the outside of that creepy farmhouse. The fucker really was just messing with us and had cameras all over the place. The goddamn prick. He faked the whole serial killer thing just to get a rise out of us.
“What is your point? I told you, I am busy. Please, go away and let me work.”
“You’ve been hurting people, haven’t you? Not just us, but others like us.” Blair stands and stares down at him with her hands on her hips, and she looks intimidating. At least, I wouldn’t fuck with her.
Mostly because I love her more than I ever thought possible, but still.
“Again, I do not see your point, and I do not care what it is.”
“You have to stop.” Blair’s voice is sharp, angry. “You have to stop now. And you have to destroy all the footage you took of us. This is your only chance to do the right thing.”
He laughs once. “No, thank you. Sue me.”
“We could,” I say, tilting my head. “Or we could do something more dramatic.”
I open the gas can and splash the nearby film cannisters. Cowan jumps to his feet, hands flying to his head as he pulls his hair. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Something dramatic,” Blair says, grinning as she saunters past me. I splash more gasoline into Cowan’s cutting room, making sure I cover more of the film cannisters. If I know my stuff, and I really do, the vintage film he’s using will be extremely flammable. We probably don’t need the gas but it’s a good effect.
“You’ve ruined it!” Cowan screams. I begin walking backwards, glugging out more gas as I go. I make sure to splash some into every room we pass. “What are you doing, you freaks? You’re making a mess, stop that!”
“Should we stop?” Blair asks me.
“I really don’t want to.”
She sighs. “All right, if you insist.” She cackles as she moves into the living room. “I told you, Cowan, that was your only chance to do the right thing. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
“You bastards! You sick bastards!” Cowan comes charging at me, but slips on the gas and staggers. All I need to do is push him to the side and he goes crashing into a stack of boxes against the wall, tangling himself up in the papers and photographs. He groans and tries to get up, and he looks pathetic, struggling to get purchase on the slick cardboard.
I toss more gas onto the steps. I don’t want to see what’s upstairs, but it’ll burn like everything else. Although—
“Hey, if anyone’s up there, you’d better get out of this house right now.”
Only silence. I nod and pour more gas.
Blairs heads outside, looking smug, and I stop on the threshold. “You know what, Cowan? You always thought you were above everyone. You always imagined you were worthy of praise and admiration because you have a talent and a gift, and you think that makes you better than everyone around you. But you’re wrong. You couldn’t be more wrong.” I close the gas cannister and take out a lighter. “Your disdain of people is your downfall.”
Cowan finally struggles to his feet, his eyes wide. “Wait, no. What are you doing?”
“Hurting you the only way I know how, since you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself and your stupid, pathetic films.” I flick a flame into life and toss it onto the line of gasoline.
Cowan screams. The gas catches and roars to life, flying back toward his cutting room. I hurry away, dragging Blair with me, and Cowan’s screams get desperate and wild and pained, but he doesn’t come out.
The fire roars to life. We stand in the street watching as the heat blasts against us, shockingly oppressive. I casually toss the gas can under Cowan’s car. Hopefully, it explodes and leaves another ruined wreck on this block.
“Think the fire department will come out here?” Blair asks softly.
“Eventually. Maybe.” I shrug, honestly not sure. “Think he’s going to let himself burn in there?”
“No, I doubt it. He’s got too much of an ego.” As if on cue, Cowan comes barreling out and down the steps, coughing wildly as smoke pours out after him. He stumbles, falls, hits the concrete, and rolls. He’s not on fire and it’s pretty funny watching the piece of shit degrade himself like this. Eventually, he gets to his feet again and hurries way, finally collapsing in the street nearby.