“Scott?” Lauren walked onto the landing. Four doors were open: an office, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. There was a door at the end of the hall, the only one that was closed. Lauren walked towards it, ignoring the way her heart was thumping, telling herself to calm down.

She wondered again about being a police officer one day; maybe she could see this as a challenge. Did she have what it took, when it got right down to it, the mettle in her convictions?

Anyway, they were probably out; they’d accidentally left their door unlocked. It happened. She’d open the door, see it was empty. Maybe she’d have another chance to get her hands on the hard drive.

“Scott?”

She pushed the door open.

Casey sprung forward and grabbed her wrist.

Lauren yelled as Casey savagely yanked on her arm, dragging her into the room. Lauren tried to balance herself.

Her vision wavered; she saw Scott, looking like he was wearing a red glove, the torn fabric trickling down his arm and the side of the bed. It was blood.

Lauren turned to find Casey locking the door.

Gary slammed against it. But too late.

“Open this fucking door!” he roared.

Casey smiled sickly. She looked like she was in the grip of an apathetic psychosis, if such a thing could exist, as though she was deriving pleasure on one level but numb on another. Lauren’s thoughts were flashing, focusing on anything other than the cold fact of the scissors in Casey’s hand. They were small, seeming almost ridiculous, but they glimmered red.

“They don’t look very sharp,” Casey said slowly, looking from the scissors to Lauren. “But they do the job.”

“Casey, we have the video.” Lauren would’ve stabbed her right then, if she’d had a weapon; she would’ve taken her apart piece by piece with a muddy garden trowel. “So back the fuck off.”

In the background, Gary was worrying at the door, but this was a well-made house. The doors were thick, the locks sturdy.

Casey stared blankly for a few moments, then her lip twitched. She brushed sweaty hair from her face with the scissors; no, not sweaty. It was blood in her hair, streaks of it, making it stick together. Scott moaned from the bed.

“You mean the video Markus has,” Casey said. “The little kitty cat one?”

Lauren nodded, wishing she had some way to hurt her.

Casey giggled. “You stupid dyke cunt. You think I care about that?”

Lauren gasped. She’d had words thrown at her over the years, mostly from idiots in school, but this was the most vicious anybody had been.

Casey stepped forwards, waving the scissors. “The only reason I’ve left Markus and Polly – Polly, Christ… the only reason I’ve left them alone is because they are the most boring and pointless people who have ever breathed. I don’t care about the video.”

“You’re a liar,” Lauren snapped. “How would you ever pretend again? How would you scam people? Your whole life would fall apart.”