Bloody Conversations

📅 Published on September 16, 2021

“Bloody Conversations”

Written by Kitty “The Odd Cat Lady” Olsen
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 15 minutes

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.
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“My wife is such a bitch.”

Right on schedule, Shane started complaining about his wife while drinking beer number four.  Whether it has anything to do with the amount of alcohol in his system or whether he thought enough time had passed so he could start whining, I can’t say for sure.

“You know what she got on my case about today?”  Shane pounded the rest of the beer before slamming his glass on the bar.  “My night with you guys!  It’s just once a week, for god’s sake, and I need time for myself.  She’s suffocating me.”

A few murmurs of affirmation sounded among the group, minus Brad, who didn’t look impressed by Shane’s complaining at all.  “If you hate her so much, you can just leave her,”  he pointed out.

“Yeah, and spend the rest of my life paying alimony?  I don’t think so,”  Shane motioned for the bartender to get him some more to drink.  “She’s such a lazy bitch.  She just stays home all day.  It made sense when our kid was home, but Kevin’s at college now.  She doesn’t do anything except watch TV and cook a lousy dinner once I get home from busting my ass at work all day.  I don’t need her nagging me about what I do with my spare time too.”

Another beer was placed in front of Shane, and he downed it much quicker than he had the first few.  “It’s hard not to strangle her some days, you know?  Make my life so much better,”  he complained.

I might’ve not been adding much to the conversation other than the occasional nod or ‘mmhmm,’  but I swore the temperature of the room changed after Shane dropped that bomb.  I was used to Shane’s complaining and bitching about Jill, but the death threats usually didn’t come until everyone else was blackout drunk.  I don’t have the cash to get blackout drunk, so I just ignore Shane’s intoxicated blathering at that point.  Drunk people say stupid shit, and they don’t mean it.  Usually.

Chad laughed nervously while Brad side-eyed the hell out of Shane, and in the end, I had to speak up and say, “So, my truck’s refusing to start again.”  A topic swap.  Get us out of this fucking awkward moment.

Thankfully Chad jumped on that new topic and asked what the hell was up with my truck this time.  Same old, same old, but the state of my truck wasn’t the point.  The point was to get the group laughing and talking again.  Job accomplished.  Shane stopped talking entirely, just quietly drinking his beer while we all planned ways for me to get rich quick so I could get a whole new truck and not have to rely on the old junker that barely managed to get me to my job and back.

The rest of the night didn’t make any waves, but when we all started stumbling back to the parking lot, Shane clapped me on the back.

“I’ll give you a ride back to your apartment.  Hop in the car.”  Normally I would’ve said no since Shane had been drinking like a dehydrated camel, but for someone who drank as much as he did, he seemed clear-headed.  Besides.  I didn’t want to shell out for an Uber, and none of our other buddies lived close to me.

“Thanks, man.”

I hopped into his car and expected one of two things- either Shane would be quiet the whole time, or he’d go back into talking shit about his wife.

It was just quiet for the first few minutes, save for the country channel Shane always had playing on the radio.  I was fine with that.  I don’t need conversation.  I just slouched against the window and didn’t really think about anything.

When Shane turned off the radio and pulled off to the side of the road, I knew something was up.

“So, how much would you do for a new truck, Mike?”  I glanced over at Shane.  He seemed calm, almost too calm.  “What do you mean?”  I asked, sitting back up.

“I’m saying, would you kill for it?”

There was a moment where I expected Shane to start laughing, tell me he was just messing with me and change the subject to something less…well, less fucked up, and then get back to driving me back home.

But he didn’t.  He just looked at me expectantly.  My mouth went dry.  “Shane, that’s not funny,”  I said.

“I didn’t even say who you’d have to kill.  But did you already guess?”  Shane smirked at me because we both knew who was the one person he’d want dead.

I fiddled with the air conditioning vent.  I couldn’t look at Shane’s smug fucking face anymore.  “… Jill’s not evil, man.  As Brad said, you can just leave-”

“Brad’s fucking spineless.  Lets his wife trample all over him all day.  He’s barely even a man anymore,”  Shane snorted.  “Courts always side with the ladies.  And come on, you owe me.  Who got you your job?  Who’s bailed you out of jail for being drunk and disorderly?  It’s coming to me – yeah, it’s me.  I helped you out a lot.”

I shook my head.  My stomach had twisted into a figure-eight knot, and I could feel bile rising up from the back of my throat.  “I don’t think that’s worth a potential murder charge, man,”  I said.  I wanted to hop out of the car now and just walk the rest of the way back home, but Shane had planned on this conversation- we were in the middle of fucking nowhere, just corn and soybean fields for miles.  In a car, it’d just take a few minutes to drive past it, but the road was dead right now.  I couldn’t even hitchhike the rest of the way back to my place.  Not that I’d want to.

Obviously, Shane had expected my hesitation.  “All right, five hundred bucks then,”  he said.

“You’re not serious.”

“Five thousand bucks…upfront.”

I paused before I forced myself to look back over at Shane.  “Upfront?”  I repeated.

Shane smirked.  “Jill’s got a life insurance policy.  After she’s gone?  I’ll pay you another five grand,”  he said.

Ten thousand dollars.  Ten.  Thousand.  Dollars.  More than enough for a down payment on a new truck.

I leaned back in my seat, trying to reason my way through it.  “…If cops come knocking at my door…what would I do?  I’m not good at lying, Shane,”  I said.

“Do it during the day.  I’ll write in your time card.”  Somehow more disturbing than talking about committing murder was how calm he was- anyone passing by would think Shane was talking about football scores.  “I’ll say you were in the back of the shop all day, working on fixing your damn truck.  Who would know?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I scrambled for more excuses.  “How would I even do it?”  I asked.

“That’s your job.  Botched burglary, accident, whatever.  Just not suicide,”  Shane shook his finger at me, “You won’t get the second half of the payment if I don’t get the life insurance payout.”

Damn.  He’d thought of everything.  I kept fiddling with the air conditioning vent, my brain blank except for the total of ten thousand dollars.  “…Your basement’s got a cement floor, yeah?”  I asked.

“What are you thinking?”  Shane leaned in, his relaxed exterior vanishing into a dark mania that I’d never seen in another person’s eyes before.

“…She falls down the steps and cracks her head on the floor.  She’s home alone.  No one knows she’s down there.  By the time you get home, she’s already gone.”

I wanted to puke when the plan started to come together for me.  I’d been over to Shane’s before to take care of his dog while he was on vacation.  I knew where the spare key was.  I didn’t know Jill that well, but I could catch her off guard and throw her down the steps if I was lucky.  She wasn’t a big woman.  It wouldn’t be hard.

Shane sighed as he leaned back, pleased with my plan.  “I’ll get you the first five by Monday.  Have the job done by the end of the week, and maybe you’ll get a bigger bonus at work too,”  he said.

I nodded.  I couldn’t talk anymore.  Murder was wrong, but maybe Shane was right.  Jill would take him for all he was worth.  That would mean his garage would go under, I’d lose my job, and so would a bunch of other guys — good guys, with families.  I didn’t have a wife and kids, but I did have a dad in a nursing home.  If I lost my job, I couldn’t keep my dad in there.  And my dad was a good guy.  I always looked out for my brothers and me.

Surely one dead wife would be worth it for everybody else it could help.

Over the weekend, I wondered if it was really going to happen.  If Monday came and went without an extra five thousand in my pocket, then clearly Shane was just playing a long con.  I prayed it was a long con.  Shane had a shitty sense of humor already.  Pretending to arrange a hit on his wife wasn’t that far out of his wheelhouse.  I’d be relieved if it was just a bad joke.

But I’d barely rolled into the garage when Shane pulled me aside and plopped the folded over bills in my hand.  “That was going for my new boat,”  He said, giving me another friendly pat on the shoulder, “but I figure this is a better long-term investment.  Don’t fuck it up.”

I didn’t even have time to respond before Shane went into his office and shut the door, leaving me with five thousand dollars in blood money clutched in my sweaty hand.

The thought of immediately giving the cash back to Shane was squashed as I put the bills in my wallet.  It would be for the better.  It had to be for the better.

The next day is when I snuck out of work to get it done.  If I waited any longer, I knew I’d chicken out.  The less time to think about this, the better.  Shane’s house wasn’t too far.  I could walk to give me time to think about how to do it.  It wouldn’t be hard.  Grab Jill, throw her down the steps, and she’d crack her head on the floor.  Then I’d just head back to work and pretend none of it ever happened.

I didn’t even need to unlock the back door.  It was cracked open a few inches.  I could hear the radio playing in the kitchen.  Did Jill really not realize how easy it would be to get her like this?  I peered through the crack and saw her.  She had just pulled a loaf of bread out of the oven and was leaving it to cool on the counter.  She hummed slightly off-tune to the song that echoed off the walls, completely oblivious to the fact I was there, watching.

“And now let’s go get some jam!”  She said to herself, turning down the radio before she headed for the door that would lead to the basement.

What lucky timing for me.  I steadied myself as each step took her closer and closer to the target.  She yanked at the knob and grumbled quietly as the door stuck in place, but another pull and the door was wide open.

Now was it—the time.

I burst into the house, the back door slamming against the wall.  Jill yelped and spun around, her eyes going wide as she tried to place who I was.  Her mouth opened to scream, but I was on her before she could make a sound.  I grabbed her and clamped one hand over her mouth.  The other I wrapped around her body as I pushed her towards the stairs.

Jill’s arms flailed around wildly and caught me on the arm, dragging down and ripping at my skin.  The fiery hot pain of her scratching my arm open doubled when she sank her teeth into the meat of my palm, biting hard enough to splash my blood all over her mouth.

There was no more time to worry about it.  Even as she kicked and fought like hell, I lifted her off the ground before I threw her down the stairs.  Her arms flew out to catch herself and she made this warbling cry before she tumbled down, down, down.  She bounced off the steps twice on the way down, and like it was meant to be, she slammed into the cement floor down below, her skull connecting with the target with a crack.

It was done.  I did it.  I stared at Jill’s crumpled body, the woman barely visible in the darkness of the basement.  The one thing I could see was an ever darker puddle forming around her still head.

My whole body began to shake, and I bolted for the sink, barely making it before I puked.  My throat burned as I spat bile against the previously spotless metal.  Once my stomach emptied, I dropped to the ground, the world around me spinning like a record as I tried to catch my breath.

I did it.  I needed to go, right now, before anyone noticed I was gone.

I pushed myself up on the cabinet, grabbing the counter to pull myself to my feet.  I washed out the sink and swished some water around my mouth to get rid of the vomit taste.  I’d have to get some mints on the way back.  I figured as I turned the water off.

I was almost out the door when I heard a groan.

I froze.  No.  No, that had to have killed her.  I slowly turned back around, afraid I’d see her at the top of the steps.

No one was there, but I swore I heard another groan.

I had to be sure.  If she lived, she would see my face.  She’d tell everyone what happened.  I’d go to prison for fucking life.  I couldn’t let her live now.

My legs began shaking again as I walked towards the basement, chest so tight I could barely breathe.  I paused for a second before I poked my head down the steps.

Jill hadn’t moved an inch as far as I could tell, but I couldn’t really see her from the top of the steps.  I took a step down just to get a better look.  I still couldn’t see through, so I took another step…and then one more.

The third step snapped under my foot, and I was pitched head over heel down the rest of the stairs.  I bashed my head against the steps as the world went black as I rolled down the rest of the steps.

I came to covered in blood.  I must have rolled into the puddle once I finished my tumble.  I opened my eyes and saw Jill’s eyes staring back at me.  I jumped back, scrambling to get away and ending up throwing myself into a pile of boxes- Christmas decorations, judging by what sound they made when they cracked.

After a few hysterical breaths, I realized Jill wasn’t really looking at me.  She’d just died with her eyes open, and she was really dead.

The job was done.  Now I needed to get the fuck out of here.  If someone heard all the noise, I was fucked.  On all fours, I skirted around the body and crawled up the steps, grimacing with each movement.  My ribs were screaming in pain.  I’d probably cracked one in the fall.  I needed to keep going.  I needed to get out of here.

I reached the top of the steps and reached up for the doorknob, desperately grasping at it before I finally got a good grip and turned it.

It wouldn’t turn, though.  It wouldn’t budge.

I sobbed as I turned it again and again, finally pulling myself up enough to throw my body against the door.  But it wouldn’t move.  How had it even closed?  Wait- I’d still left the side door open, and if a breeze came through, it might have slammed the basement door shut.  And now it was stuck.

A sob caught in my throat as I sank back down the stairs.  I was trapped down here, with a corpse, and no idea when Shane would show up.  I needed to get back to work so people would know I was at my job and not at my boss’  house murdering his wife.  I needed to get out of here.

I looked back down the stairs, back at Jill.  I swallowed the acid burning at my throat before I limped back down the steps, careful to avoid the broken one, so I didn’t fall on my face again.

Fully back in the basement, I ambled about to look for another way out.  If I could smash a window, I could crawl out through there.  I’d get out, hurry to the shop, wash off in the backroom, and no one would know what happened.

“That’s such a stupid idea.  How would it look like an accident if someone forced their way in or out?  Not to mention no way you wouldn’t be noticed covered in blood.”

I nearly screamed as I heard a condescending female voice behind me.  I spun around, whipping my head around and trying to see if anyone else was down there.  Of course, no one was.  Except for Jill, and she was still staring blankly forward.

True, that voice might have sounded a little like Jill, but she never spoke so harshly before.  She was usually kinda quiet, meek.  Not like Shane ever gave her much room to speak anyway, and he always talked over her.

I went back to searching the basement.  Maybe I’d find a way to force open the door- “What was this about forced entry again?”

Or I’d find a way to call for help –

“Great.  Place yourself at the scene of the crime.  That’s brilliant.  You’re a master assassin.”  I’d just find some fucking way out of here, and hearing that cruel voice popping up wasn’t helping.  I gave myself whiplash each time I looked back at Jill, half expecting to see her sitting up, glaring, angry at what her husband made me do.  Paid me to do.

But she didn’t budge.

Searching the basement hadn’t brought up anything helpful either.

“Are you so surprised?”

I couldn’t find the light switch, and the one window down here was covered in what looked like a decade’s worth of cobwebs, dimming the little light that came in.  Even if I did break the window to get out, there was no way I’d fit through it.  I wasn’t skinny enough.

“Well, you could stand to lose a few pounds, but you hold your weight well.”  I slammed my fist into the wall before I spun around to look at Jill again.  “Shut up already!  It’s your fault I’m stuck here!”  I shouted before I realized what I was doing — talking to a dead body — the dead body of the woman I’d killed.

Jill didn’t react to my yelling.  Obviously.  Because she was dead.

I sunk to the floor and pressed my fingers against my eyes.  All I could hope was that no one heard the struggle, and Shane would show up, bitch at me for being a less than successful hitman, and then help me cover it up.

“A lot will need to be covered up, Michael.”

I dropped my hands and stared at Jill.  “Why?  Why are you talking to me?”  I asked.

Jill didn’t so much as twitch, but I heard her voice clear as day.

“Because I’m…I’m confused, and I don’t understand…”  She trailed off, going quiet for a few moments.  “I just don’t understand why you’d kill me.  What did I do?  Did I hurt you somehow?  If I did, why didn’t you just talk with me?”

I inched forward, slowly approaching the body as I started to babble lies to it.  “It…it’s not about you.  Shane, he told me to do it.  If I told him no, I don’t know what he would’ve done-”

“What?”

Jill’s voice broke, and I heard her gasp.

“Shane…Shane wanted to kill me?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.

Jill sobbed, and I watched a sticky drop of blood drip down from her head wound and carve a path like a tear down her still cheek.  I didn’t say anything else.  I couldn’t deal with it.

When the crying died down, I reached forward and straightened Jill’s hair.  I tried to close her eyes, too, but they just snapped right back open.

“Why did Shane want to kill me?”  She asked.

“You’d hose him in a divorce, and he didn’t want to lose everything,”  I explained.

“I…he thought that?”  I heard her quietly sniffle as her face didn’t so much as twitch.  “I’d…I’d never do that.  I knew he was unhappy, he told me that, but I did everything I could to fix our marriage.”

I took a deep breath.  “Like what?”  I asked.

“I kept the house clean.  I made his favorite meals.  I cut down on my spending.  I tried to revive date night, but he got so angry about that.  Said Friday night belonged to ‘the guys’  and ignored me when I suggested other nights.  When I suggested couple’s therapy I…I thought he was going to hit me.”

The cold realization that I was tricked into killing what I thought was an ungrateful lazy wife sunk in.  “He never mentioned any of that,”  I admitted.

“I wanted to leave, Michael,”  Jill quietly sobbed again.  “But I also wanted to make this work.  Shane wasn’t always like this.  He used to be kind and loving.  I don’t know what I did wrong to make things change.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!”  I blurted out, the guilt in my chest finally overwhelming me.  I threw myself on the ground next to her, staring into her eyes.  “It’s all Shane, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken his damn money.  It’s all my fault you’re dead, Jill.  What do I gotta do to make this right?”

There was a beat of silence.  Then Jill moved.

I watched in silent shock as Jill peeled herself off the ground, the blood making a squelching sound as she pushed herself to her knees.  Her facial expression didn’t change, and her eyes didn’t stop staring blankly forward.  The side of her head was caved in, oozing something gray along with all the red.

“Shane was the cause of my death.  You were just his tool, Michael.  I’ll forgive you…if you kill Shane.”

I immediately shook my head, but Jill shushed me, lifting a cold finger and pressing it against my lips while her dead eyes seemed to stare right at me.

“It won’t be hard.  I’ll make sure you get away with it too.  We have a gun by the bed, did you know that?  I’ll help you clean up after my murder, and I’ll help you write a suicide note that incriminates my husband.  You want to make this right, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Then kill him, Michael.  Kill Shane.”

Kill Shane.  Kill the man who hired me to kill her.

“What’ll I do when the garage closes down?”  I asked.

Jill hummed and rested her hand on my knee.  “Shane’s hidden a safe in the shed.  There’s money in there, a lot.  He never let me touch it because he said I’d spend it on something we didn’t need.  But he won’t need it after he shoots himself in the head.  As for the rest of his employees, well, the garage will probably go up for sale after he’s gone.  Kevin won’t want anything to do with it.  Just use the money in the safe to buy it back.  You’ll be your own boss.  You just have to kill Shane.”

Once again, I was searching for excuses- excuses not to kill someone again.  There was only one left this time.

“You sure I won’t get caught?”

Jill’s head flopped up and down in an imitation of a nod.  “I promise,”  she said.

“Then it’s done.”

Jill’s face finally moved, contorting into a malicious smile.

“Then wake up.  And get ready.”

My eyes opened, and I was back on the cement floor, next to Jill’s fallen body.  I forced myself to my feet, my ribs complaining in pain and my head swimming.

I glanced up the stairs to see that the door was open now, (has it ever been really closed?)

and that I was free to go.

When I reached for the railing, I felt a cold breath on my neck and a soft murmur reminding me of the fingerprints I’d leave behind.  Take Shane’s winter gloves upstairs, burn them once I’m home.

It was hard making my way up the steps without the aid of the railing, but I managed.  I glanced at the clock on the wall to see it’d only been a few minutes since I’d thrown Jill down the steps.

Another whisper, reminding me to get those gloves and clean up the bloody fingerprints I’d no doubt left on the sink knob in the kitchen.  I moved mechanically, the voice helping me straighten up after the mess I’d made during this murder.

Once all was just as it had been, I almost walked out the door.

Then I was reminded about the suicide note I had to write.  The gun I had to get.  The second murder I’d promised to do.  And the payout I’d get once I got the job done.

I sighed.  And then I headed for the study, hearing Jill’s happy off-tune humming just behind me the whole way.

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by Kitty “The Odd Cat Lady” Olsen
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: Kitty “The Odd Cat Lady” Olsen


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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