Chapter 1

On April Fool's Day, my ex-girlfriend Caroline Wilson called me, sobbing, saying she'd accidentally killed someone.

When I got there, I saw her pale face and the puddle of "blood" on the floor. Without a second thought, I grabbed a kitchen knife and helped her finish the job.

She and all her friends, whom she'd been hiding, started screaming, completely losing it.

Everyone thought I was in shock.

They didn't get it. I didn't think their little joke was funny enough yet.

*****

"Roman, help me... I killed someone..." Caroline said.

On the other end of the line, Caroline's voice was shaky, breaking apart, with tears in it. But underneath, there was something I knew all too well: that barely contained thrill.

It was April first. April Fool's Day.

Also, three months to the day since we'd split.

When she dumped me, she threw a glass of water in my face. Every drop felt like ice.

She said, "Roman, you're so boring. Being with you, my life is just stagnant."

And now, she was calling me for help.

I hung up without thinking. I grabbed my keys and walked out.

The engine roared, tearing through the quiet night. My heart thumped steadily in my chest like a precision clock.

I knew it was a joke.

On the phone, in the gaps between her fake crying, I heard a little muffled laugh.

It had to be her best friend, Mia.

They wanted to see me freak out and lose it. They wanted to watch the "boring" ex-boyfriend play the pathetic fool on her perfect little stage.

Fine.

I loved playing games.

Caroline's apartment door was cracked open. I pushed inside.

The heavy smell of blood hit me, sweet, artificial, the kind she got from cheap fake plasma.

In the middle of the living room, some punk with bleached hair was lying on his back, a kitchen knife stuck in his chest, a huge puddle of dark red "blood" underneath.

Caroline was slumped nearby, pale as a ghost, hair a mess. Her pretty eyes were filled with tears, and when she saw me, she looked at me like I was her savior.

"Roman... I... I didn't mean to..." Caroline said, reaching out a hand and crawling toward me, her voice shaking like crazy. "He... he tried to... you know... I just pushed him, and the knife... it just..."

What an act. Guess that drama school training really paid off.

I glanced around. Behind the curtains, through the crack in the bedroom door, a few shadows were shifting.

They were waiting for me to fall apart, to scream, to curl up on the floor with my head in my hands, or stammer as I fumbled for my phone to call the cops.

Then they'd jump out and yell "April Fools."

My gaze landed on Caroline. Deep in her eyes, there was that barely hidden glint of smug amusement, like she was watching a show. It pricked at my nerves.

That look sealed it.

I didn't look at her. I walked straight toward the "dead guy."

I crouched down and put two fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse.

A warm, strong, steady beat tapping against my fingertips.

He was alive.

Of course he was. It was just a game.

I stood up.

Caroline stared at me, waiting for my reaction.

The people hiding held their breath.

I curled my lip into a smile, something they'd never seen before.

Then I bent down and wrapped my hand around the handle of the knife sticking out of the punk's chest.

Cold, hard metal against my palm, sending a chill straight to my heart.

"Roman, what... what are you doing?" Caroline asked, real fear creeping into her voice for the first time.

I didn't answer.

I just looked at the knife and the blade stained with that fake blood.

"You missed," I said quietly.

And then, with both hands, I yanked it out.

There was a wet sucking sound. A spray of the fake stuff came with it.

The punk's body jerked involuntarily.

Then, before anyone could even process it, I aimed right for his heart, and with everything I had, I plunged it back in hard.

This time, the blade sank deeper.

It went right through, like cutting into warm butter.

A spray of warm, metallic liquid splattered across my face.

Real blood.

Chapter 1

On April Fool's Day, my ex-girlfriend Caroline Wilson called me, sobbing, saying she'd accidentally killed someone.

When I got there, I saw her pale face and the puddle of "blood" on the floor. Without a second thought, I grabbed a kitchen knife and helped her finish the job.

She and all her friends, whom she'd been hiding, started screaming, completely losing it.

Everyone thought I was in shock.

They didn't get it. I didn't think their little joke was funny enough yet.

*****

"Roman, help me... I killed someone..." Caroline said.

On the other end of the line, Caroline's voice was shaky, breaking apart, with tears in it. But underneath, there was something I knew all too well: that barely contained thrill.

It was April first. April Fool's Day.

Also, three months to the day since we'd split.

When she dumped me, she threw a glass of water in my face. Every drop felt like ice.

She said, "Roman, you're so boring. Being with you, my life is just stagnant."

And now, she was calling me for help.

I hung up without thinking. I grabbed my keys and walked out.

The engine roared, tearing through the quiet night. My heart thumped steadily in my chest like a precision clock.

I knew it was a joke.

On the phone, in the gaps between her fake crying, I heard a little muffled laugh.

It had to be her best friend, Mia.

They wanted to see me freak out and lose it. They wanted to watch the "boring" ex-boyfriend play the pathetic fool on her perfect little stage.

Fine.

I loved playing games.

Caroline's apartment door was cracked open. I pushed inside.

The heavy smell of blood hit me, sweet, artificial, the kind she got from cheap fake plasma.

In the middle of the living room, some punk with bleached hair was lying on his back, a kitchen knife stuck in his chest, a huge puddle of dark red "blood" underneath.

Caroline was slumped nearby, pale as a ghost, hair a mess. Her pretty eyes were filled with tears, and when she saw me, she looked at me like I was her savior.

What an act. Guess that drama school training really paid off.

I glanced around. Behind the curtains, through the crack in the bedroom door, a few shadows were shifting.

They were waiting for me to fall apart, to scream, to curl up on the floor with my head in my hands, or stammer as I fumbled for my phone to call the cops.

Then they'd jump out and yell "April Fools."

My gaze landed on Caroline. Deep in her eyes, there was that barely hidden glint of smug amusement, like she was watching a show. It pricked at my nerves.

That look sealed it.

I didn't look at her. I walked straight toward the "dead guy."

I crouched down and put two fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse.

A warm, strong, steady beat tapping against my fingertips.

He was alive.

Of course he was. It was just a game.

I stood up.

Caroline stared at me, waiting for my reaction.

The people hiding held their breath.

I curled my lip into a smile, something they'd never seen before.

Then I bent down and wrapped my hand around the handle of the knife sticking out of the punk's chest.

Cold, hard metal against my palm, sending a chill straight to my heart.

"Roman, what... what are you doing?" Caroline asked, real fear creeping into her voice for the first time.

I didn't answer.

I just looked at the knife and the blade stained with that fake blood.

"You missed," I said quietly.

And then, with both hands, I yanked it out.

There was a wet sucking sound. A spray of the fake stuff came with it.

The punk's body jerked involuntarily.

Then, before anyone could even process it, I aimed right for his heart, and with everything I had, I plunged it back in hard.

This time, the blade sank deeper.

It went right through, like cutting into warm butter.

A spray of warm, metallic liquid splattered across my face.

Real blood.