A Room Full of Killers by Michael Wood (spanish books to read .TXT) 📕

‘No, thanks, Adele. I think I’m going to have an early night with Tony Hill.’

‘Oh yes?’ Adele’s eyes lit up. ‘You never mentioned this.’

Matilda smiled. ‘He’s a character in a book I’m reading.’

‘Oh. Well if you prefer a book to my burnt offerings … ’

‘To be honest, Adele, I just fancy an early night.’

‘Everything OK?’

‘Yes. Everything’s fine.’

Matilda had been saying everything was fine since James died almost eighteen months before. She had taken his death very hard, even though they both knew it was coming. She had received great support from Adele, her son Chris, Sian at work, and even the ACC had visited her a few times while she was on compassionate leave, and the first question asked was ‘how are you feeling?’ to which Matilda had always answered ‘I’m fine.’ It was the standard, staple reply. They all knew she wasn’t fine; Matilda knew she wasn’t fine, but it was understood by everyone that they shouldn’t dwell any further on the subject.

One day, Matilda suspected, she would genuinely be fine. When? She had absolutely no idea.

LEWIS CHAPMAN

Nottingham. October 2012

I know I shouldn’t have watched it. I know it was wrong, but everyone said it was the film that reignited the horror genre.

I first watched Scream at the age of eight, and I loved every minute of it. That opening with Drew Barrymore getting terrified by a psycho-stalker was perfect. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen that part – definitely a few thousand. I’ve seen it on DVD, on YouTube, on my phone on the bus to school. I know it word for word. It’s brilliant. The second and third films were good but there weren’t any stand out scary moments like the opening to the first film, and don’t get me started on Scream 4, or Scre4m as it’s known.

I’ve been obsessed with horror films ever since I first saw Scream. Not obsessed, that’s the wrong word, I’m just a big fan, that’s all. I’ve seen them all, from the classics like Psycho and Misery, Silence of the Lambs, The Exorcist, Night of the Living Dead, and Rosemary’s Baby to the modern ones like Scre4m, Saw, Cabin in the Woods, Insidious, Let Me In and Fright Night. I’ve got hundreds on DVD.

Funnily enough, I don’t like Halloween. Not the film, I love that, I mean the event. I’ve never seen the point in dressing up and knocking on people’s doors. However, last Halloween, I was looking out of my window at the kids going around in masks and costumes and I thought that 31st October would be the best time of year to commit a murder.

I had a whole year to plan my crime and choose my victims. It didn’t take long to come up with my younger brother, Jason. I’ve never liked him. It’s always been obvious my parents preferred him to me – he always got bigger presents at Christmas, extra pocket money, and he didn’t have to do any chores to earn it. He always got more ice cream than I did too. He was nothing special. He was shorter than me, fatter, and he had a lisp. Why did they like him more than me?

The year seemed to drag on, and the longer I waited, the more anxious I was. I couldn’t bear it. I was genuinely excited.

When the summer holiday came around I took that as my opportunity to put my final plan into action. I knew that once we returned to school in September it wouldn’t be long before Halloween.

I didn’t write anything down. I didn’t want to leave any evidence. So I sat on my bed and pictured everything in my head. I went over it again and again and again. It was like watching a horror film on a loop. It was brilliant. I was the writer, director, and star of my own slasher movie.

Halloween fell on a Wednesday, and Mum and Dad always work late on Wednesdays. It was meant to be. Jason was two years younger than me, and I always waited for him after school so we could walk home together. I asked him how his day had been and if he’d done well in his English test – everything had to be normal. He didn’t suspect a thing. I asked if he wanted to go out trick-or-treating, he said no. Thank God.

I waited until seven o’clock. It was dark and the streets were filling up nicely with kids in badly home-made costumes. It was time to act. I called the landline from my mobile, putting 141 in front of the number so it would come up as withheld on the display. Jason didn’t answer at first. He probably thought I was going to answer it. Eventually, he picked up.

‘Hello.’

‘Hello.’

‘Who’s this?’

‘Who’s this?’

‘It’s Jason.’

‘Hi Jason. What’s your favourite scary movie?’

‘What?’

‘Scary night tonight, isn’t it? Ghosts and demons running around screaming. It’s like something from a horror film.’

‘Who is this?’

‘Are you scared?’

‘Hardly, Lewis. I can hear you in your bedroom. Nice try though.’

Shit! I saw red. I couldn’t believe he’d guessed it was me. I’d been practising that American accent since the summer. I threw my mobile on the floor and ran into his bedroom. He was still holding the phone in his hand. He jumped as I kicked the door open, but when he saw me in my Ghostface costume he started laughing.

He didn’t laugh when the knife tore into his throat. He gasped for breath and grabbed his neck as if he could keep the blood from flowing out. I stabbed him twice in the stomach and he dropped to the floor. He looked up at me, his eyes wide, tears rolling down his face. He was desperate to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

I leaned over him, knife dripping blood, raised high above my head.

‘“It was a simple game, Cotton, you have told me where Sidney was. Now, you lose!”’

I brought the knife down into his chest and