Chapter 33
“Please don’t!” The priest looks up at me with fear in his eyes as I swing the ax in my hand and stare at him.
“What makes you wake up and decide you’re gonna be a pedophile?” I ask him, I could have sliced the head right off him by now but I decide I want him to suffer.
He says nothing, just shakes the head that”s still on his shoulders as sweat pores off his brow.
“Answer me,” I warn, pulling back my elbow and slicing the blade into his thigh. I go deep enough to hit the bone and he screams out in agony as his blood splatters across my face.
“Please, just get it over with,” he begs, and I narrow my eyes at the old bastard.
“Is that what they asked you to do? You sick bastard!” I wiggle the blade outta his flesh and strike again. This time into his shoulder and when I think about all the kids that we got back at the club, I lose my fuckin’ mind. I don’t care about his answer.
I hack at his body with the ax over and over again, until I taste his blood on my lips and have to wipe it from my eyes. I don’t just make him dead, I make him unrecognizable. Just a pile of torn-up flesh that doesn’t resemble anything human. Once all the strength is drained from my body I throw the ax at his hacked-up body and take a step back. I look at the mess I made of my basement as I step away from him and make another tally scrape in my wall. Sitting on the chair in the corner, I feel his blood setting on my skin as I catch my breath and try to find my calm. I have to go to Maddy tonight, and I have to go back to her a better man than this.
I wait until I’m sure she’ll be asleep before I get back on my bike and ride home. She’s seen me at my worst, she knows what I’m capable of, but she doesn’t need to see me like this. Covered in a nonce’s blood and still fuckin’ broken on the inside. Once I’m inside I ball up my clothes and throw ‘em in a trash bag, there’s no way the blood stains are coming outta those, and as I head for the shower the light flicks on and I see her standing inside the bedroom door.
“You were gone ages.” She steps toward me reaching out to touch me like the blood ain’t there, but I catch her wrist before she can make the connection.
“Don’t touch it.” I notice the sticky fingerprints I leave on her arm and immediately drop it from my hold.
“Jessie, I”m not afraid of this,” she tells me. Grabbing my face and forcing me to look at her. “You should know that by now.”
I don’t want her hands on me while I’m covered in another man”s blood.
“I’m scared of you losing yourself,” she admits.
“It didn’t take the pain away,” I admit, freaking out, because all my life creating pain and killing has always been the answer.
“It’s okay, Jess.” She takes her body and presses it into mine, tarnishing herself with the blood of the man I just murdered and clinging to me tight.
“It’s okay,” she repeats over and over. Stroking my blood-clustered hair in her dainty, little fingers and trying her best to convince me. It should be me taking care of her, I made her that promise, and as I let her continue to comfort me I wonder how many men are gonna have to die before I get my strength back.