"You think he'll let you?"
"You think he can stop me?"
⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻⎻
Margeux can't decide whether she's a sociopath, or a psychopath. Continuous events tend to sway her either way. Out of all the people she could kill on her eighteenth birthday, she en...
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••●••
WHY ARE FLIGHTS so expensive? I don't remember impromptu flights being expensive. Is the universe working against me? Probably.
I curse to myself as I rummage around the room I've been renting for my stay in London. I rush and rush and rush - and even with all the rushing I still find myself stressed.
My pregnant mother probably won't be in the mood to help. Her latest boyfriend - the father - was happy to be rid of me in the first place, so now, I'm stuck trying to figure out if I pay extra with my small salary on a plane ticket, or if I wing it and stay after just murdering someone.
Pretty simple choices, wouldn't you say?
Maybe I'll change hotels. Check into a motel, move to a shittier motel after a week. Or I could hide out. Live in a strip club.
Or I could trust my murderous instinct and talk myself out of the situation if the time comes like I've been able to before.
Before I can dwell any longer, I'm left to stray from my thoughts. The doorbell to my temporary room I had rented (it was one star) rings.
Alright.
They've found me. It's confirmed.
I'm sweet talking my way out of this one.
Cleaning myself in the mirror to look presentable, I walk to the front door and force myself into normality for whoever is waiting for me. Whether it's police or a neighbour - either need to see me as calm during this stage.
After all the researching I've done (physical books, not the internet, I'm not stupid), one of the biggest things that catch the killers is how they present them self during the grace period of their crime. If they were wary, nervous or erratic.
Being a self-diagnosed sociopath (or psychopath at this point), I'm assuming I'll have the ability to be the opposite of what's gotten previous idiots caught.
"Hi?" I try to sound confused when seeing two figures at my door.
"Hi." One of them smiles, offering out her hand.
I shake it, keeping that confused aura as I take in her appearance.
She's alarmingly beautiful. In a unique, inhuman way. With dark honey skin, dark eyes - and piercings all across her ears. Silver and gold beads running through her braided hair and a smile accompanied by symmetrical dimples.
She almost makes me forget the guy standing next to her.
He clears his throat, "Is your name Margeux Price?"
"That would be me." I face the brunette guy, leaning on my door.
He's quite beautiful as well. In a more quiet and isolated type of way. One where you have to look at him to see his beauty instead of be startled by the arrival of it.
"My name is Reign, this is Sasha." He introduces the two of them, using his thumb to gesture. "We're insurance managers figuring out where Callum Dickens' money is going."
"Who?" I play dumb.
"Callum Dickens." Reign repeats.
"I'm sorry that name doesn't ring a bell." I thin my lips.
"Last night," Sasha says, "He was at a bar. Died in the alleyway behind it. We wanted to know if you, his girlfriend, would like to come in and take your claim of money."
Ah.
That's very cute of them. But I'm no idiot.
"Sorry, I've never dated a Callum. In fact my last relationship was from High School." I try to come across as apologetic.
"We just assumed you were his girlfriend," Reign fakes interest, "Your name is on a check from the bar last night, and we have a witness saying he saw the 'pretty brunette girl' getting touchy with Callum."
"You think I'm pretty?" I lick the underside of my teeth.
"I never said that."
"You're assuming I was said 'pretty brunette girl'. I think you find me pretty."
He's annoyed now. Evoking a little emotion for the first time. "Every other brunette female we've checked that night wasn't in Callum's age bracket."
"Oh, so you've gone around checking everyone at the bar then?" I question his slip up.
He doesn't answer.
"If you're looking for his girlfriend, maybe you should check with records and his family instead of people at a bar last night." I offer patronisingly.
"Thanks for the advice." He smiles sarcastically.
"We're sorry for wasting your time." The pretty girl - Sasha - smiles at me. She sends Reign a warning look. One that suggests he's often disobedient. And then the two of them are gone, only one out of the two waving goodbye.
I got two things from that conversation.
That one; both those people were not insurance investigators.
And two; I'm a suspect.
••●••
Ooh, characters meeting.
Margeux listening to Sasha and Reign:
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