Page 56 of Cut Deeper

When the third call went straight to voicemail, I began to worry. I hit redial.

The number you have called…

I hung up and was about to try again when I swiped the contacts away and tapped into the only indoor camera at home. The basement.

“Fucking hell,” I gasped, slumping into my chair.

I backed out of the live feed and scrubbed to the moment Anne entered the basement.

“Ms Selbourne?”

She ignored him as if he didn’t exist, crossing the room to lay out the set of knives I’d bought her. She pressed the flat of a blade against her cheek, eyes fluttering shut.

“A man has trapped me here. Please—can you let me out, or call the police?” the naked Frenchman pleaded.

When her eyes opened, they were vacant. She pivoted toward him with the hint of a smile.

“How terrible for you,” she said flatly.

My eyes widened as she approached the cage and simply unlocked it. The man was far larger than Anne—I should know; I’d dragged the fucker down the stairs myself.

He scrambled out, crawling on hands and knees before sitting upright like a meerkat on guard duty. I blew out the breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

Then she kicked him full in the face. The moment he collapsed, she sat on his protruding belly.

“You’re all the same,” she spat, and drove the knife toward his chest.

“Argh,” he cried, throwing his arms up against the blade.

The knife pierced straight through his hand. I tapped pause and zoomed in. Through the palm—his face twisted in shock and agony. I hit play again.

“God,” I murmured as Anne went into a frenzy.

Her arm moved so fast it blurred. She carved through his hands, then started on his arms. It was nothing like the Anne I’d observed before—and nothing like how I conducted myself down there.

He tried to shove her off and failed. The second time he succeeded and scrambled away, but Anne was faster. Blood smeared across my pristine floor as his hands and arms leaked over it.

When he tried to rise, Anne put the knife in his spine.

He screamed, reaching behind himself to pull it free, and Anne began to laugh as he collapsed. Blood pooled on his back, dripping down his sides. She bent and drew the knife out, inspected the blade, and wiped it clean on his shoulder.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he howled, dragging himself along the floor in the world’s slowest escape.“Please. I don’t want to die.”

“You’re just unlucky,” Anne mused, planting her feet on either side of his hips.“We all get what we get. It doesn’t matter whether we deserve it or not.”

She grabbed a fistful of his brown hair and began to slice.

Ashlyn knocked on my door and called my name.

Fuck. The Caruthers woman’s appointment.

“I’ll be with her in five,” I shouted.

When I glanced back at the screen, Anne was brandishing a fistful of scalped hair.

“We’re just getting warmed up,” she said sweetly.

I dragged the video forward to what I’d witnessed earlier.