The Wolf
There’s nothing like the sound of rain pelting against a tin roof, and as I lie in bed listening to it lighten, I think about Morgan burnt beyond recognition.
Everything’s finally gone to plan. The fire spread quickly, much quicker than I’d anticipated, but the storm eventually prevented it from blazing out of control. I couldn’t get close enough to find Morgan’s body before the sun went down, so now I’m left to wait until the sun rises to claim my latest prize. My thirteenth victim. My Red. My excitement is so palpable that I can’t sleep.
The glare from the television catches my attention. I reach across the quilt, retrieve the remote from beside my head and turn up the volume. Even though Morgan’s gone, I’ll always have my memories of the game we played, and those videos of her looking lost, defeated, and pained whilst imprisoned inside my Red Room.
I smile as on the screen, she writes in the notepad. I didn’t think she’d write the letters, scrawl her final messages. I haven’t read them, and I won’t. Anything Morgan had to say is of no interest to me. She’s a ghost. A tortured hellion. A dead bitch.
As her hands shake, my lips stretch wider. I really can’t wait to deliver her final thoughts to Reid and those brat kids. My word is my bond. I’ll give him the fucking letters along with a handshake.
I rewind the film. I relax my head back into the pillow and take a long inhale.
Photographs shoot across the projection screen. Morgan’s filthy, covered in mud with blood dried on her skin. She stares at the screen as picture upon picture layer on top of each other. The panic and terror in her eyes, the way her chest rises and falls rapidly—it’s everything I’d hoped it would be. The pulse in her neck thumps, but she doesn’t turn her head away. Her eyes remain glued to the life she once had playing out before her.
The screen goes black. Morgan's legs buckle when she stands, causing her to launch out her arms. She stumbles forward until her body hangs off the edge of the table. Morgan wobbles, stretched up on her tiptoes, until she manages to push her heels down and finally balances. She rummages with desperation through the mess I left on the table for her, snarling, and it pleases me.
Whack.
A notebook and pen fall to the concrete flooring. Morgan’s big brown eyes grow wide. Her chin quivers. A moment of realisation fills her expression, one I’ll have the pleasure of watching over and over on repeat. “They’re blank, aren’t they, Red?" I snicker, and affect a feminine voice. “Oh, what does this mean? Why are all the pages absent of writing? Why did he do this?”
I laugh.
Slowly, her body lowers until she sits slumped on the concrete. Her head hangs low. She’s disappointed.
“Oh, poor Red.” I continue to laugh.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
On the video, the timer sounds, the one I hung to the wall in my Red Room. Even now, my heart gallops with glee.
Morgan gasps. Once again, panic stretches her eyes open excessively. This moment is one I’ll treasure long after I bury her in my graveyard.
Her head turns in a whip, and she stares, spotting the red numbers of the timer.
I lift my arms above my head and stretch, only to wince at the sting radiating through my shoulder where that dumb bitch stabbed me. How the fuck did she get those scissors? It had to have been after I stitched her leg wounds.
I kick off the blankets and rock until I’m in a seated position. I need that footage.
Ring, ring, ring.
Reaching out my arm, I grab my mobile phone from the pillow beside me.
“Yeah?” I say in answer.
“Is it done?”
“Yep.”
There’s silence.
“Are you happy?” he says.
“Very. Very fucking happy.”
“Good.”
“What are you doing with Morgan’s body?”
“I’ll have to see what condition she’s in, and then I’ll decide.”
“What?” His voice is hushed, but strained. “You’ve collected her, haven’t you?”
“Couldn’t get close enough, that fire took off like a wild bitch. The storm only just calmed down now. I went out again a few hours ago, but couldn’t see shit. I’ll go get her in the morning. Well, if there’s anything left of her, that is.” I can’t stop the grin that follows.
“The coppers are searching. I have no doubt they’re out your way.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Well, I am.” There's a nervous tone laced in his words.
“Calm down. I’ve got it sorted.”
“Once you find her body, get your shit out of the fucking cabin and burn it to the ground. I don’t want this coming back—”
“It won’t. Calm ya tits. What? Does she know?”
“No. She has no clue.”
“Reid?”
“No.”
“Nothing to worry about.”
“Burn the fucking cabin down or I will. It can’t come back to me.”
“But I’ve done so much work out here to get my game—”
“You got what you wanted. I supported you. Now it’s done. No more hunting. No more killing. Your revenge is complete. The game is over.”
I laugh. “Oh, this is just the beginning. I’ll head home for a little while. I’ll get out of Queensland, for your sake, but I’ll be back.”
“That wasn’t the deal.”
I scoff. “We don’t have a deal, and I suggest you get on board or I’ll take someone's life away from you.”
“Listen here—”
I hang up.
Screw him. Screw everybody. I have a pang of hunger that needs quenching. I’m not about to give up the chase, the hunt, for anyone.
Not even him.