Caution Tape (Mutual Monsters Duet Book 1)

by Molly Doyle

Everyone has that odd thought when walking on a bridge, right? That flickering, lizard-cold flash of, “what if I jumped? What if I oopsie-daisied myself into oblivion without a second of introspection? What if I simply gave in to the cold part of my mind?”

“‘Leaves hellbent on hitting the earth, beautiful and suicidal, their destination resolute. I hope I find that. I hope I have the guidance of my individual gravity.’”

Lovely phrases like “torrent of blood” and “gouts of blood” come to mind as I step back so it doesn’t drench me and watch until the crimson spew slows to a trickle.

I wonder what it will be like to hurt a human. Will their eyes gush when I drive a screwdriver through them, or will they implode like mini balloons? Can you rip teeth out with pliers, or are the movies lying to me?

I want to remove the skin from her skull and run my lips along the smooth, bleached white bone.

How good would it feel to gasp into her ear, “Last night, I killed a deer. The blood was so warm. No, no, shh… listen to me... it felt just how your pussy feels right now.”

“Touch me like that again and I’ll peel your face off to use as my next Halloween mask. Capiche?”

We will be sociopaths of the finest kind; monsters of living well. Living better than you.

There’s a chunk of Jerri’s jawbone in my pocket, polished clean. I run my thumb along the ridges, marveling at how I’d yanked and twisted it out. God, I feel good.

“There won’t be any need for that,” he sadistically replies. “I’ll be having too much fun fucking the gaping stab wound in your stomach. Warm, and squishy. And self-lubricated. Made just for me.”

It’s a bone. He’s been fucking me with a bone this whole time. And it’s just given me the best fucking ride.

I had this idea about phone books.” “Phone books,” she echoes dryly. “Nobody uses those anymore.” I give her a look. “They would get delivered to our door. A yellow and white paged book full of numbers and locations. I wanted to pick a random address out of the book and kill everyone in the house, leaving behind the page with their name and number circled. Tack it to the wall with the remains of their face pinned next to it, dripping like a fried egg slapped onto a plate.”