The Murderer & The Flirt

Mum and Dad’s didn’t bleed like Louis’ is. His scruffily severed head is seeking revenge. The first drop of blood falls from the overhanging corner of the suitcase in the aisle. I grab the handle and twist it so that the bloody corner faces me.

The girl who just moved to the aisle opposite me... She is too familiar. I know her. She never met me, but I know everything about my late brother’s life. Louis and I were partners, he always made a fool out of me.

Now I must make a fool out of his late-to-be ex-girlfriend.

His sadly oblivious, foolish ex-girlfriend.

I lower my black hood and look steadily across the aisle at her. She turns her blonde head, looking at me as if I’m naked or something, the look on her face is one of pleasant shock.

“Hey.” The single word leaves her glossed lips like the irrational, shallow girl I know she is, her voice straining for the sexy American street-corner-girl sound that these one-dimensional girls all want.

“Hello. Why sit alone? Come sit here with me.”

I remove the suitcase from the adjoining seat with what I hoped was a slick wrist movement, and motion for her to join me, with a crooked smile and that naughty look that girls like so much. I tuck the suitcase around the crook of my ankle, out of sight. She’ll want to leave the bus with me, soon. We can stop at Travelodge. She will think tonight will be so much fun...

I think her shoulders have been carrying the weight of her blonde locks and her sweet skull for just a little too long.

The End

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