“I’m bloody okay. Don’t come!” I huff.
“What happened?”
I yank the stupid cord away from my feet, the colorful, flashing lights seem to sayfuck you, fuck you, fuck you.
I move cautiously toward the body—the floor is obviously bloody slippery. I tear a glove off to hold his wrist.Please be alive. Please.But of course, there’s no pulse. Blood is painting a big red puddle around his head and one of his legs is twisted the wrong way.
“Fuck you, Krampus! You’re a bloody sadist,” I yell.
“Lori, lower your fucking voice or the domestic workers will hear you,” Rague growls.
“What happened?” Ollie asks again.
“He’s dead. The maggot is dead,” I breathe out inconsolably as I look at the cake on the table. Defeated and in need of high sugarI sink a silver spoon in the first chocolate layer—the part not floating in wine—and then stuff it inside my mouth.
“Fuck!” Rague cusses. “We have two options here.”
“I’m listening,” I say, letting my disappointment out of everydirtypore.
“The first is very easy and fucking classy. We burn the body. Really burn the fucker. No bones, no traces, only ashes.” He sounds unhealthily excited about it.
“I like that,” Ollie states.
Well, if Krampus takes me to hell, at least I'll be with all my friends.
“And the second option?” he then asks his husband.
“Lori, can the donor’s death pass for an accident?”
“Yep!” I mumble around more cake. “Because it was a fucking accident!”
I feel so bloody furious. This is the fifth maggot! The fifth to die in front of my eyes and not by my hands. Maybe I should just wait for this month to pass and then try again in January. I waited before, I can wait again.
Ahhhh!Like hell, I will!I grab the first thing I find—a Christmas tree branch and shake it violently before shoving it away.
“You are using gloves, so you left no fingerprints. Which is good news.”
I look at my bare hand holding the spoon.Eh, I’ll take it with me.
“You need to get out of there. Hold on, I’ll ask Serena to find you a clear way out,” Rague says, as I keep demolishing the cake. I’ll get so many pimples. Bez will laugh as Gabe points them out, one by one, just to mess with me, the handsome twats.
The sudden fragrant smell of burning wood makes me turn around. The Christmas tree is leaning on the lit fireplace, enveloped in flames.
“Shite!” I gasp. “I think I’m forced to choose option one.”
“Forced? Why?” Ollie gives me another high-pitched scream.
“Fire! The tree is on fire.” I cough. The smoke is quickly invading the room, and the window doesn’t fucking open.This must be what Hell feels like.
“Nice going!” Rague sounds more excited than anything, the pyromaniac.
“You wanted ashes? Here they come.”
I grab the blanket from the bed and throw it on top of the tree trying to put out the flames, but the expensive, organic fabric catches fire quite fast. Then the curtains, the rug, the table…the corpse. The fire sprinklers turn on, but it’s too late.
I cover myself with a sheet and head for the door.
“Get the fuck out of there. Serena will lead you!” Ollie yells in my ear.
