Chav Ch. 04 Pt. 02

Becky guessed whoever had killed the dog hadn't been able to pull the axe free. There were blood foot prints leading to the staircase. A dead body was on the stairs. A spray of blood had splashed up the wall like some kind of modern art painting.

A definite masculine grunting became apparent once the shock of death had faded a little and Becky looked across through the partially open door leading into the dining room.

She couldn't see much, a figure bent over the corner of the huge dining table, another figure half bent over the first, his naked hips jerking back and forth in time to the grunting.

Becky saw tanned, smooth young flesh, discarded sporty, girly, clothing on the floor under the table flecked with blood. And in the gap between the hinge side of the door and its frame, another visible sliver of the room beyond confirmed to Becky that it was Chloe being fucked, bent face down over the table.

It was mainly the blonde hair contrasting with the tanned flesh, but glimpses of an open, glassy, unmoving eye confirmed the identity. Then a voice over-rode the sexual grunting.

"What the fuck man!?" The voice said. "She's fuckin' croaked it! She's a stiff! Leave her, there's another three or four bitches upstairs. They're all for the chop too but no one said we couldn't fuck 'em all first."

"But... I'm... Fuck! Nearly there!" The grunter complained.

"Whatever..." The second voice muttered dismissively.

Becky nearly lost her lunch again.

"We get 'em all?" the grunter asked.

"'Course! Parker got riddled with .45's. Stoyan always wanted to try that fucking grease gun out. Surprised it worked!"

"Preferred my machete, they can't run out of ammo."

She backed away from the front door, shivering in renewed fear. Guns and machetes and hammers... More women upstairs... All for the chop too... That would have been her if she had been in the house.

She backed away, afraid of turning her back on the front door. Afraid of making any noise and attracting the two in the dining room. But she was also afraid of the upstairs windows. Of being spotted.

She found herself along side the idling car and glanced into the back seat.

There were two sports bags with a fuck load of cash in them, loose notes and bundles. And in that moment, her salvation was right there in front of her.

She kept quiet and in the shadows, her eyes everywhere at once, but moving as quickly as she could.

It was easy enough to do. The dead guy in the driver's seat was heavy but once she had him moving he kind of rolled out, pulled out of the car by weight and momentum.

She took his place, pulled the door to took the hand brake off and let the car roll forward along the driveway.

She was halfway down along the cul-de-sac street before she put it in gear and started to pick up speed.

Then, one eye glued to the reverse image of the house in the rear view mirror, she put it into second and shut the door properly, pulled out of the cul-de-sac and turned right onto the main thoroughfare.

She needed to put a little distance between her and them before zipping up the money bags and hiding them from plain sight.

She also knew she would have to get rid of the car as soon as she could. The police would be looking for it once they knew about the attack on Mad-Dog Parker's house.

She'd swap it for whatever she could get her hands on in Oakfield. That would be easy enough. She'd been in enough lads houses after estate parties, always with their crappy souped up bangers. And she had always paid attention to where they kept their keys and valuables just in case the opportunity or necessity arose.

She could easily wriggle in through an open window, snatch the keys while they slept and swap the cars over without a problem.

None of the lads she had in mind would ever phone the police either.

So that was the plan. Get out. Fast and quiet.

No one would miss her, maybe most would think she was amongst the dead.

Well, there was Jeni, but she was better off without Becky dragging her down anyway.

She'd phone her and let her know she was okay but that would be it.

An easy life in a new town, a quiet life.

North. That's where she'd go. Or South-west.

And then... Who knows?

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The end of Becky Taylor's story.