CRAIG: 

I’ve got a confession to make.  It’s awful, really.  I think this whole thing with Foxy’s getting out of hand.  That’s the only way I can explain my behaviour.  Am I in love with her?  I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.  Not sure I’ve got the stomach for it.  But this girl, she’s something else.  Jesus H. Christ, I can’t stop thinking about her. 

I stole her knickers.  I went in her room and snatched them from the laundry basket she keeps under the bed.  I took them into my room, lay down and buried my face in them for forty-five minutes, breathing in her fumes.  I’ve been wearing them since then.  I wore them to the funeral yesterday.  Thank heavens no one looked up my skirt.  That would’ve been awful.  I slept in them too.  I’m still wearing them now.  I like the idea of my privates touching hers in a second-hand fashion.  I like second-hand things, after all.  I prefer them to new. 

I know it’s never going to happen for us now, though.  Not after this morning.  It started with the creaking noise from Foxy’s room.  I suppose I was just being protective.  I didn’t even knock, I just barged straight in.  I certainly wasn’t expecting to see what I saw.  Surely not.  My God, it was awful.  Surely my eyes were deceiving me.  Surely it wasn’t Razor and Foxy.  Foxy and Razor, naked together in her bed, in her duvet that her and I once shared, fleetingly, what might as well have been a lifetime ago.  He might as well have taken a pair of socks to my throat – that’s how upset I was.  That’s how angry I was. 

I said, “You murdering bastard.” 

He said, “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” 

I said, “You know what I’m taking about, “Razor” – or whatever your stupid name is!  I saw you!  I was there!  I saw you killing Barry with those socks!  I saw you stab him!” 

Foxy was frantically crawling out from underneath him and covering herself up.  “Craig, you’ve picked a bad time to start making accusations,” she said. 

“No,” I said, “I think this is the perfect time.” 

I must’ve been shouting quite loudly, because everyone heard. 

Dunder came running out from his room saying, “What’s going on?” 

Pet and Gogo didn’t come out of their room, but I could hear their voices – “What the fuck is going on?” - “How the fuck should I know?”  It sounds like they’re breaking up, which can only be a good thing.  After our little debacle last night, Gogo announced that he’s moving out, so there’s an added bonus. 

Samantha came out of her room, and God bless her, as soon as she set eyes on Foxy’s bed, she was screaming louder than any of us – “Oh my God!  Oh my God, I can’t look!”  She ran down the stairs, unable to stand the sight before her. 

Razor was frantically climbing into his jeans.  “That’s right,” I said.  “Get dressed.  You’ll need a good strong pair of trousers where you’re going.” 

He said, “I DON’T UNDERSTAND, CRAIG.  WHY ARE YOU SAYING THESE THINGS?  WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU?” 

“Don’t I speak the truth?” I said.  “You did it after all, didn’t you?  You killed Barry.  Of course you killed Barry.” 

“WHY WOULD I KILL BARRY?” 

“Why not?  Why the hell wouldn’t you?  You don’t care about other people.  It’s as simple as that.”

“PLEASE, CRAIG.  DON’T DO THIS.  I’M BEGGING YOU, DON’T DO THIS.” 

“Don’t do this, Craig,” said Foxy. 

“I’m sorry,” I told her.  “You may not understand this now, but it’s for the best.” 

The phone was in my hand.  I felt Dunder’s hand on my back as I dialled the third nine.  I couldn’t tell if he were trying to comfort me or just leaning in so he could hear the conversation better. 

We all remained silent as they took Razor away.  He wasn’t kicking and screaming.  His head was bowed, not wanting to meet Samantha’s eyes as he passed her.  Samantha just sat there and watched.  She didn’t comment on it.  She didn’t cry. 

Foxy was in a flood of silent tears.  She still had her makeup on from last night – black eyeliner streamed down her cheeks.  Dunder had already cracked open his first beer of the day, and in his own way, he was happy.  Silence emitted from Pet and Gogo’s room, which probably isn’t even Pet and Gogo’s room any more.  Someone had to break the silence.  We sat there in the living room, not daring to say a word, hardly daring to breathe. 

I had to say something.  I was just trying to lighten the tone, I swear.  I said, “Anyone for Cluedo?”  

Dunder found this hysterical, but I couldn’t laugh along with him, not after seeing the look on the girls’ faces.  Samantha shot me the sharpest of glares.  Foxy looked as though I’d smacked her across the face. 

I still can’t believe I said it.  “Anyone for Cluedo?”?!  How awful is that?  Really, seriously – how awful? 

THE END.