THE BLACK ONYX (BOOK 1) WATTYS 2022 ~The Black series~

🥀Chapter 10🥀

"Its hard to recognise the devil when his hand is on your shoulder. That's because a psychopath is just a person before he becomes a headline."

~Becky Masterman~
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Normality I used to tell Za is overrated and a way people use to pretend they were aren't as fucked up as they seem.

It's a way pussies tell themselves they aren't different and constantly pretend they can fit in.

But that's the thing no one can hide they're nature and in cases like mine you can't not snap and be who you really are.

A freaking monster.

I mean why do you think a normal suburban hardworking and seemingly law abiding man could wake up one beautiful Sunday morning and decide to murder his wife and kids in cold blood?.

Well that's the thing about us monsters, the longer we suppress the harder it is for us to stay sane, and sanity they say could cut loose with only a little snap.

Then the chaos ensues.

Those were my thoughts come Saturday night as I stared unseeingly at my perfectly organized wardrobe.

Pathetically I gave out a little sigh of frustration as I scanned every nook and cranny and came up blank.

What does one wear to the first progression of murdering one's enemy?

Moving closer to my room closet I leafed through some clothes and and felt my hand snag onto something that immediately made me freeze.

Carefully I pulled out the piece of clothing and let a little smile spread across my lips as I scanned the little dress in my arms.

In my hands lay a little white mesh dress with long off the shoulder sleaves, a little pieces of string on the side to ensure it fit snugly and a length that was sure to make any nun combust in flames.

But in my case the only person I was hoping would wind up being eaten into by the flames at the moment was dear Johnathan especially once he saw me.

In a sick twisted way I felt like some kind of black widow with the aim and mindset to kill while dressed to the part and serving looks like her life depended on it.

I was Lucifer in a dress and I couldn't be more proud.

Deciding this will do perfectly I took my time with my hair and makeup ensuring they fit my dress perfectly and decided to add a last statement on my face to fit my persona.

Putting on bloody red lipstick as a final touch I sent Poppy a quick text letting her know I was on my way since she'd arrived there a few minutes before.

Picking up a purse that fit my statement lip color and donning on some sky high heels I made my way down the hall passing by my father's study only to find mother's sleeping figure sprawled across his chair.

She made a pathetic image really a once pristine Nigerian model wife who had forgotten her roots and lived her whole life trying to please her deranged husband.

She wasn't necessarily a bad mother, just someone who always let her emotions get in the way of her common sense, something that had played a huge role in her succumbing to the woes of her horrible marriage.

I immediately noticed the emptied bottles of alcohol on the table and shook my head slightly at the sight. At the rate she was going, sneaking to drink herself to a stupor it'll only be a matter of time before she'd actually kill herself.

She was weak, as opposed to the strong Nigerian woman my grandmother had been and I hated it. Hated that Za had inherited that trait that had eventually gotten her killed.