Time to Remember
Jerrod wasn't sure if he wanted to investigate the newfound body wrapped in a painters tarp. It was definitely smaller than Richard, and Jerrod had a sinking feeling of dread that it could be a child. Possibly a pre-teen, not that that made it any better. The bare foot sticking out the end looked to be at least a size six . Not even the sight of his friend lying face down in a pool of blood disturbed him half as much as the sight of the petite foot. He shook his head, trying to clear the images away, and focused on forming some kind of plan.
He definitely didn't want to be caught at the top of the stairs- the actual stairs were narrow and he pictured being greeted by Becky there with no railing to hold on to and her pushing him back down. Not gonna give that bitch any advantage. The fact that the room was bare did not help . No place to hide, save for beneath the stairs. Jerrod supposed that would have to suffice. He really didn't have any other choice.
An idea started to form in his head as he looked over at the pile of broken chairs against the wall. He pawed through the pile, looking for anything that could be used as some sort of weapon. Mostly the pieces were small and splintered, but finally he found a supporting back leg that had run the length from the foot to up the back- it was at least four feet long and seemed sturdy. He gave it a swing, feeling the weight in his hands. It would work, but he just needed more to feel prepared. Protected.
Something was nagging at him, hidden deep in the recesses of his brain- like a thought at the tip of your tongue. It almost hurt to push it forward. All that was coming through was the sound of Richard's voice repeating Jerkface! Jerkface! Jerkface! He looked down at his friend with a twinge of sadness. He was a pretty good dude. Little bit of a freak, but an okay guy. Jerrod had already forgiven him for dragging him into this mess (amazing what being murdered does for ones's friend karma) and was at least gratfull to Richard for cutting the zip-ties around his ankles, otherwise he might still be stuck in the-
Yes! Aw, man, yes! He had totally forgotten about the knife Dick had used to cut his ties. It was a decent size- Richard had actually been quite proud of it. As well as the extensive collection of slasher flicks, he had quite an array of knives along with a few swords plus, a light saber that lit up and made whooshing sounds. But the knife! The knife had a titanium blade and Richard bragged how easily he could gut someone with it if anyone ever messed with him. He assured Jerrod he never was pushed that far, but he was ready for it if it happened. Jerrod knew his friend was full of shit, but right now all he cared about was that knife. He scanned the floor to see if it had slid anywhere. Nothing. Nowhere.
He knew where it had to be. Somewhere under his dead friend.
"Goddammit!!" He knelt at Richard's side and gently rolled him over. Jerrod had forgotten about the fake intestines underneath his friend and picked through them, searching.Real blood and fake blood intermingled beneath the pile, swirling around each other in varying consistencies. Nothing there.
When Jerrod had turned Richard over, his friends arm and plopped to his side, outstretched, and clenched in his hand Jerrod spied his treasure. Bingo. He pulled up the limb by it's sleeve and began to peel Richard's stiff fingers away from the knife.
With a start Richard sat bolt upright, a gutteral moan expelled from his lungs, his eyes wildly dancing around. Jerrod jumped back from his friend, clutching his chest.
"What the fuck??"
End Part 9
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