Stitches

Dante

I scream up to the house, but I know what I’m going to find before I even get out of the car. My front door hangs dangerously open, warm light pouring onto the lawn I spent so much of my goddamn life, so much goddamn money keeping within HOA-approved lengths. That doesn’t stop me from leaping out of the driver’s seat, engine still running, and sprinting inside.

Ben stares up at me, a grinning death’s head. One bullet hole, in the middle of his throat. A distant part of my brain registers that they had to get close, that it’s a quick death.

The rest of me shouts, “Eleni?”

I expect the silence, but it’s like stepping in front of an oncoming train. The pain doesn’t hurt any less because I know it’s coming. My breath turns ragged, scraping in and out of my throat as I step over Ben’s corpse.

The next trail of blood leads me to the front sitting room and Andrea. Fuck. Another throat shot, like a signature. My head of house, the only woman keeping me alive before Eleni, weeps blood on