She woke up. Perhaps on any other day this would not have been worth mentioning, but today she was rather excited. It was her birthday. Then it hit her. Bugger. What had she done last night? There was something... just a feeling that somewhere, someone had a reason to hate her. She rolled over to go back to sleep, and bumped into something. Oh yes. that was it. Her best friend's boyfriend. He woke up, and turned over.
Morning.
Um... good morning.
Happy birthday.
Yeah... what the smeg happened last night?
He raised himself up onto his elbow.
Don't you remember?
She shook her head.
No. No, it's all a blur. I vaguely remember going to the last bar with everyone, but that's it.
He sat up, and rolled his head.
God. My head hurts. You got coffee?
Um, sure, it's in the kitchen.
Really? Well, I wouldn't have thought of checking there.
He hopped out of bed. He still had underwear on. He grabbed a jumper, and putting it on, stumbled out of the bedroom.
She lifted the duvet, and checked. No, she didn't have any clothes on. A bit of a mystery then. Did they... do it?
She got out of bed, and put on her dressing gown. She went to the bathroom to relieve her near-bursting bladder and to check how awful she looked in the mirror. Bleugh. She'd not taken her make up off, and looked like she had two black eyes. She peered closer, and managed to hit her head on the frame.
Ow! Fuck! That hurt!
You ok in there?
He'd come through to the hall, and tapped on the door.
Yeah, yeah, just drunk still, I reckon.
How do you like your coffee?
Strong, lots of milk, lots of sugar. I'll be out in a second.
She heard him go back through to the lounge and rubbing her head tried to figure out what the hell had happened. Nope. No joy. She gave up, and followed him through.
How's your head? I found painkillers in the cupboard above the microwave. You need any?
No, I'm feeling ok, I just can't remember last night.
Not that suprising after the amount of shots you had.
I don't mean to be rude, but did we..?
God. Was I that bad?
Really? We did? But what about Katie? Oh my god, she's going to kill me.
Sarah... what are you on about?
You know, Katie, your girlfriend? My best friend? She's going to kill me. I can't believe I'd do that to her. I can't believe you'd do that to her.
You seriously don't remember, do you?
Remember what?
Our plan?
What plan? I don't remember any plan.
Mark stood up, and taking her by the hand took her through to the kitchen. There, on the counter was Katie's head. The eyes had started to bloat. They looked like they were coming our. Her once blond hair was now streaked with red, and the smell was... actually not that unplesant. Sort of like pork, but a little bit more metallic.
Sarah screamed.
What the fuck is this?
It was the plan, babe. Do you remember yet?
Oh yes. The plan. Sarah had had her eye on Mark for a while. She knew he liked her too, and together, last night, they'd gotten drunk. He'd asked what she wanted for her birthday, and she'd said him. A few more shots of tequila and they'd hatched THE PLAN. As neither of them wanted to hurt Katie's feelings, they'd decided the best option was to just kill her. No fuss then, no extended feelings of guilt and remorse as Katie would later eye them across bars and cafes, huddling together with her friends to talk about them both and the inevitable fall out as people picked sides. No, best way, they had decided would be to kill her, and then Sarah could fall into Mark's arms, and everyone would just assume it was inevitable as they comforted each other to get over Katie's disappearance. Seemed like a winner last night.
We did it?
Fuck yeah we did it.
Well, I suppose if it's already done, there's no point in fretting about it. What's for breakfast?
Mark went over to the fridge, opened it, and held up a plate of what looked like bacon.
Katie and Egg sandwich?
Sarah smiled, and went over to Mark. Standing on her tiptoes, she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
That would be lovely, darling. Eggs over easy, please.
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