The Murder Party

1. Motive

I have quite a few active stories - all of different subjects, from bxb to werewolf and more - so if anyone is interested in this one, please understand that I can't be one of those writers that will update every day or more than once a week. I'd be lucky if I could even do the latter.

And do me a favor. Don't take my story. I've had it happen before, and it hurts to know someone was so inconsiderate. I thought this up by myself with my morbid and perverted mind, so just don't!

Keys were quick to find the locked deadbolt, moving to open the door softly, desperate to remain silent to the girl waiting for him. For months, she had said that she wasn’t ready. She was a virgin, you see, and the thought of losing what she was born with scared her for some reason. The supposed pain made her apprehensive, she’d say when she found that my hands would wander under her panties innocently. I was anything but innocent. My thoughts were much the same.

I was driven by a natural need for sex, the need to reproduce – not that I wanted to go that far. Condoms were already lining my pocket, and there were a few stashed in my wallet as well. I couldn’t trust those bitches to have the proper contraceptives. It’s almost like they want to get knock-up.

I didn’t bother knocking with the keys looped on with my car keys. Instead, I just walked in, finding the living room and kitchen empty. The bathroom was much the same, much like her parents’ room. It was too quiet. I was used to hearing the low droning of the kitchen radio singing America’s Top 100. Sometimes, there was a heavy base coming from her room from an old R&B album, but not today. It was silent.

When I saw her door slightly ajar, I peeked around the corner and froze. I couldn’t believe it. Every instinct I had was to run out of the apartment and slash his tires, cut his brake line, or open up his fuel tank and light a fire at the other end of a cloth after placing it in it. My blood was boiling in my veins and I had no doubt – from the warmth that has overcome me – that my face was red. Hell, I was seeing red at this point.

She had used the word virgin. I use the word ‘liar.’ Lying bitch, fucking around with my friends. Pure and untouched, my ass. My eyes continued to watch their fluid movement, eyes burning as Sydney threw her hips forward to meet every thrust of his, legs hanging over Julian’s tanned shoulders, keeping them painfully close.

They were almost completely silent, not even a grunt being admitted, and knowing the Tibbs boy, he was holding back. He wanted to let everyone know he was ruining the girl for any other male that wanted to fuck her. Julian was quiet for her, as though she needed to know if she had company, if her parents were home, if I had arrived, wanting to surprise her. Hmm, lucky me. I was ahead of the game.

Silently, I turned around on my heel, making my way back to the door, slamming it behind me. It was enough to split them up, perhaps before he spilled within her. Hmm, maybe he spilled on her stomach instead, showing her just how much he cares whether or not she get pregnant. News flash, he didn’t. He only cared about getting rid of his morning wood and solving the ‘blue balls’ issue. Julian Tibbs didn’t give a damn about anybody but himself and his needs.

“Shit,” I heard from behind the door, moving out of the line of sight. He stormed out of the door in a panic, looking around as if his pants weren’t around his ankles. The dyed redhead scurried out of the doorways, keys jingling from their placement attached to his belt loop that was only inches from brushing the ground in a kiss of friction.

A disgruntled chortle passed my lips as I followed the nervous teen to the parking lot, glaring in the direction of his car. It seemed that he had calmed down as he glanced in my direction, finding me staring at him. Alarm passed those green eyes. He wasn’t doing a great at being inconspicuous. He was the kid who stole from the cookie jar, remnants of the chocolate chips smeared around his swollen lips. The only difference was that the chocolate was in the form of jeans, and they were still around his ankles. I wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed, to be honest....

“Uh, hey Pete, are you here for Sydney?” His bushy brows were furrowed, perhaps considering the fact that I could have been the one in the apartment, slamming the door in rage. I could see through his dilated eyes that the wheels were barely turning in the ammonia soaked cells that he called a brain.

I had taken too long to respond, I noticed, given the way his attention turned from constructing a theory to my response, or lack thereof. I gulped, giving a broad smile, flashing ultra white and perfectly straight teeth.

“Nah, man. I was just visiting my aunt. She needed a bit of help moving some boxes,” I said, lying through my teeth, my words nonchalant. “Why, is Sydney here?”

His eyes widened a bit and shook his head hastily. “Um, no. I just tried to get up with her. Had a partner project but she wasn’t there, so… I guess it’ll just have to wait. Until she’s the there. So we can do the project,” he clarified, tongue-tied from his lies, giving a innocent smile that didn’t phase me in the slightest.

“Oh, well that seems like an interesting project, from the looks of it.” Julian didn't understand, just agreeing. I was even kinda enough to point with my eyes, but he was too dense.

“Yeah,” he nodded, sorrowful expression on his face as if he was just as bothered by it as I seemed to be. “Well, anyway, I gotta go. I should get working on that project. It’s due tomorrow, I think.”

Blink. Blink. Blink.

“I thought it was a partner project?”

“What do you mean,” he asked. His brows furrowed in confusion, as if he hasn’t just told me he had a partner project with Sydney, like, twenty seconds ago. I just don’t see the appeal…. Did they even speak to each other?

Blink. Blink. Blink.

I stared at him for the briefest of moments, wondering how the hell he had talked Sydney into sleep with him. He was as dumb as a damned brick! Was I hallucinating his words, or had he seriously forgotten his words?

“Never mind, then. I’ll be seeing you, Julian, clothed next time, I hope,” I said, widening my eyes in amazement, turning to my car. I was riding a high of anger, just hoping Sydney would run other of the door and run into my arms, begging me to forgive her for some immense tragedy.

It seemed that was enough to make him realize that he was missing the layer of material that was meant to cover his package. The smallest of smirks lit up his face, and he was quick to pull them up, buckling the button a little tighter than it needed to be.

“Yeah, you too, Peter,” he finished, a smile crossing his face, guilt a grain of salt in the back of his eyes. He got into his car, slamming the door forcefully, recklessly whipping out of the parking lot. Tapping his horn twice, he sped off towards the center of town.

I couldn’t believe it. Two friends, one of whom was a lover, just betrayed me… on my birthday of all days. Had she really forgotten? Did Sydney even know it was my birthday? Surely if she had, I wouldn’t have caught her in a hot and naked embrace with the biggest player in the school.

I had had everything planned, the mobile invitations having gone out just this morning. Dress casually, I had requested, believing that it would be a great party. I’d have already fucked my girlfriend, drank a little bit, and smoked a bowl. I’d be living the high life, or so I thought. Now everything has changed. My plans were no longer what they had been.

Strong fingers pulled out my phone, opening my messages. The blood was still pounding in my ears as I sent out a mass text to everyone, especially those who had wronged me. I spammed their inboxes.

At the top of my sent list, Sydney and Julian. It was just a reminder to those whom had already been informed, and an invitation to those whom hadn’t heard of the celebration. The words were beckoning, pulling the ugliest of people into a bloody web.

It would be safer for them to stay home, not crossing paths with this blond boy who was out for blood, but they would be too curious. Peter Moore, the birthday boy, inviting everybody he knew to a kickass party, his parents currently out of the picture. Just like them, my guests would be unaware of my changed plans. This wouldn’t be just a party. It would be a death sentence for almost everyone who would step foot in my front door.

Fuck a birthday party. This would be my murder party, where the guests are targets, and the party favors are knives in the back. It would teach them a lesson: don’t fuck with Pete.