Liars Lie
@goodnaturedviolence
The whiskey felt more bitter than usual as it poured down her throat. The ice cubes crackled in the glass when she slammed it back down onto the dashboard. Her eyes scanning the building in front of her, searching for movement while her hand idled against the cold steel of the pistol in her lap, fingers itching to snuff out the life of another human being. Sometimes Marceline wondered if murder was a kink of hers by now. It was a thrill, a high of adrenaline. Concerning? Sure, if she wasn’t the head of the most powerful mafia in the state.
“Fuck it, I’m going in now.”
She stepped out of her car and drew the thin leather coat more firmly around her, the material straining to cover her fair sized chest. She didn’t mind the crisp weather, but nevertheless, her skin felt the breeze and tiny bumps raced along her flesh.
The house was still even as she kicked her car door closed and strode across the street. She wasn’t exactly hiding and being sneaky about her arrival. It was reckless. But that was her middle name since the death of her innocence at thirteen years old.
When she put her boot through the rickety wooden door, the thrust of her shoulder putting it to the ground moments later, she was struck frozen in place for far longer than she cared to admit- shock presenting itself to her without her consent.
Blood paved the hall floors, splattered up the walls and forced the carpeting of the living room to submit to the deep crimson stain. Beyond the copious amounts of red, she found the floor wet with water, a meager attempt at diluting the shade.
And further still, was the boy on his knees, fingers tightly curled around a rag, knuckles white, scrubbing the floor in desperation to clean away the stench of murder.
The body of the mangled woman did little to phase Marceline as she stepped over it, cautious of the boy on the floor. She had a vague knowledge of the woman and her son, but she wasn’t about to underestimate someone who, as far as she could tell, just butchered his own mother.
“Rough day, huh?”
