My Ex boyfriend Is A Pycho

Chapter 18-A Book

"What?"

I pointed at the empty knife rack.

"Chill, they are in the sink."

I had to make sure of that myself.

I scuttled to the steel sink, and found only two of them above the other dashed utensils. Returning them into the rack, there were four still missing.

Digging through the utensils, dropping them recklessly on the floor, I found another one. Now two were missing.

"Here," Isabella found another one in another hip of dirty utensils.

One more.

That one knife could be the one to butcher us.

It was nowhere to be found. Not in the broken cardboards, nor the old steel sink, nor on other heaps of utensils, nor below the sink or anything around it. Not even lighting the flash light of my phone assisted enough to find it.

My breath was either becoming heavier or the air around me becoming denser and scarce, but the speed was definitely not matching up to the lung's pace.

Working my hands hastily through the remaining heap of dirty utensils, wishing it was there, I didn't find it. It was not in the kitchen.

"Let's get out of here," I uttered in a voice barely above a whisper.

"No__"

I had no time nor energy to argue with her. I turned for the door.

"Here," before I had left the kitchen, Isabella found the last knife cloaked under the pan I had earlier stepped on. "There is nothing to worry about," she placed it in the rack and smiled insinuating that everything was okey. "We should go upstairs."

There was nothing to worry about was what she thought, but my super loud insecurities contradicted on the same. I didn't have a reason to call off the mission, so I agreed and lead the way.

The left side of the stairs the was a handrail, and on the other there was a wall mounted with same ugly peoples pictures. Some crushed, some still standing.

The family seemed to be getting uglier, like their faces were a complete misfit of its own. If people like them existed then there would be no need to name anything uglier, coz there wouldn't be any.

The stairs treks were weak and creaked even louder by a step.

Strongly grasping the handrail, I took my steps in wary.

Abruptly, I heard a crush behind me and swiveled my head at bolt speed.

Isabella had just been swallowed by the stairs, only her hands left clasping a cracking trek.

"Taylor," she called in agony.

I took a stair downward towards her, stretched my arm and tightened my clasp on the handrail. Summoning my energy from every other inch of my body, I grabbed her hand and started pulling her. She was way heavier than I thought.

Below my feet, I heard a squint followed by a cracking sound. I was about to go down to.

I closed my eyes, as if it would help increase my body's energy, and pulled her halfway out. The crack insidiously spread across the trek below my feet like a deadly virus pacing up a feeble body.

Pulling her up, she crawled herself as the trek below my feet shattered into sharp pieces. I flung myself away as swift as I could to the edge of the floorboard at the top of the stair case.

I gasped as much air as I could my heart thudding itself out of its cages. I was a second to getting swallowed by the stairs to down below where utter darkness ruled.