10. Draven
Chapter 10
Draven
“Want to finish the job?” She lifts her head up to me, eyes red-rimmed. “He is still alive.” Barely alive. I really did a number on him before she got here. I may have gotten a bit carried away, but once I started I could hardly stop. I needed to mark his body in every place he left a bruise on hers. “He is just unconscious,” I shrug tilting my head to the side.
She shakes her head, closing her eyes. “Please let me go,” she sobs. “I won’t tell anyone.” Her body becomes rigid as if she is forcing herself not to look at Matt's body on the bed or to her body that is covered in his blood. “I promise. This will be our secret.”
I kneel in front of her. No, that won’t do. I did this all for her. Everything I have planned up to tonight has been for her. She has a darkness inside of her that matches mine. I’ve read her diary and I’ve heard the conversations she has with herself when she thinks no one is around. That’s why I’m doing this. I know what’s best for her.
“He deserves your retribution, my little shadow. He deserves all the marks you leave on his body.”
Her eyes fling open. “What are you even saying? No one deserves that.”
I chuckle. “A monster like him does.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “A person who abuses an innocent woman does.” Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. “Take the knife, Cat.” I push it towards her. “Take the knife and get your revenge.” Her eyes lock on the knife. “He is a dead man anyway.” He was never going to walk out of this house for harming what is mine. His death was segmented in stone the moment he laid his eyes on her.
She reaches for the knife, transfixed as if she is in a trance, when suddenly her eyes connect with mine, and her hands stop moving forward.
“How do you know my name? How do you know he abused me?” Her voice is shaky as she speaks. “Who are you?” she sobs. “Why are you doing all of this?”
“All in good time, Cat. Those questions are semantics. What matters is your revenge on the people who have made your life hell.” I push the knife towards her again. “It’s time for those who have wronged you to feel the pain they caused you.”
“Stop,” she yells, slapping the knife out of my hand. “Leave me alone. You’re fucking insane,” she screams, rocking her body back and forth.
“That's my good little shadow. Get fucking angry. Let the rage consume you. Let all that bottled-up anger burst like an exploding volcano. Think about all those times your stepmother locked you in your room without dinner because she said you needed to lose weight. Think about all those insults she threw your way, think about all those times she made you feel so horrible about yourself you used a blade to alleviate all the ache, think about all those times that bastard lying on that bed put his hands on you, think about every time he has humiliated you in front of his closest friends.”
She places her hands over her ears and screams stop over and over again. Tears cascading freely down her face. “Let the anger you feel for your dad for marrying that gold digger and leaving her responsible for you while he travels all over the world for work.”
I grab the knife where it landed after she threw it and try to hand it again. “I’m giving you the opportunity to start with a clean slate.”
She becomes still, her screams and tears turning into empty laughter. “Who are you trying to be, my fairy godmother or some sort of guardian angel?”
I scoff, unable to help myself. Me, her savior? No, I’m the devil on her shoulder. “You’re trying to make me seem like I’m a sort of saint or some hero who has come to rescue the poor princess.” I grab her chin with my thumb and index finger, forcing her to look at me. “You’re a queen who doesn’t need saving. You can save yourself. I’m only here to aid Your Highness in eliciting revenge.”
Her eyes flick from mine to the knife in my hand. “Didn’t I say I was going to make all your darkest fantasies come true?” She sucks in a breath, eyes widening. “How many times have you thought about grabbing a gun or a knife and ending all the lives of the people who caused your suffering?” I push the knife towards her again, this time she takes it. She has a darkness that I’ve never seen before swimming in her eyes. She looks as if she let the dam rupture inside of her.
She lifts herself up from the floor and walks to the bed, hovering over Matt’s body with a determined look on her face. “You said he is still alive?” she asks, her voice soft and broken. “Just unconscious?”
“Yes,” I reply, getting up and standing by her side. Her eyes trailing down his body.
“Then why is the bed covered in blood?” She looks down at her arms with furrowed brows and falls pale from the realization. With a wrinkled nose, she turns to me with wordless accusation that I’ve fucked her on the bed covered with her boyfriend's blood.
Correction, soon-to-be-dead Ex-Boyfriend .
“This is wrong,” She whispers. More to herself than to me. “This is so fucked up.” I stand behind her, wrapping my arm around her waist, and resting my chin on her shoulder. “No, what’s fucked is all the times he put his hands on you. What’s fucked up is the amount of bruises he left on your skin. What’s even more fucked up is he hurt and abused you all for a ruse.” She needs to learn the truth. She can’t go on any longer thinking that he has feelings for her. That is not how she should be treated. He and her stepmother are using her so they can have a relationship without being discovered.
Her head turns to the side so fast I’m sure she got whiplash. “Ruse? What ruse?”
Hook, line, and sinker. “The only reason why that asshole started dating you is to hide his real relationship with your stepmother.”
Her body stiffens, eyes widen. “I’ve always had a gut feeling I was being used for something by him. I’ve seen his exes. I’m not his type.” She giggles. “It makes perfect sense as to why she was always lingering in the hallways, why she never left us fully alone, why she was always kissing his ass, why she catered to him more than she should.”
Her hand grips the handle of the knife tighter to the point her hand begins to shake. “Him having a relationship with my stepmother is not what makes me angry,” she mutters under her breath. “I could care less about that. I wasn’t in love with him; my heart belongs to another.” Her breathing gets harder as she looks at me with a mix of emotions I can’t quite grasp. I've had my suspicion that she knows it’s me but that look solidifies it.
“What gets me angry is that I stayed with him because I was forced to. My stepmother knew that he abused me. The first time it happened, I opened up to her. I told her I was going to break up with him. I thought she would understand, and support me woman to woman, but no, she flipped out on me, threatening me with making my life a living hell, kicking me out of the house, and all sorts of other crazy ways to torture me. I had to suck it up, I couldn’t go to my father he wouldn’t care. All he would ask is, what did I do to Kelly to warrant such a reaction,” She scoffs.
I don’t dare to make a sound or to move. I only listen. This is what she needs right now: someone to let it all out with. She can’t talk about these things to her friends. They won’t understand - Not like I do, and deep down, she knows it too.
“So I dealt with it. Dissociating from the world, myself, and mostly from him when he would get angry, waiting, counting the days till I no longer needed to be in that house.” Tears fall freely, unguarded down her cheeks. “I always felt that when he would get angry with me he was taking out his problems on me because I never felt like I did anything to invoke that sort of anger, that hatred. I was his punching bag.” She cleans her tears with her shirt sleeve.
“Isn't it right that he’s returned the favor?” I whisper, breaking the silence, waiting with bated breaths for her to reply, but nothing comes. I’m not sure how long we stand here before she bellows a scream that sounds like it’s coming from the darkest, deepest corner of her soul. Everything happens so fast that it takes me a second to wrap my mind around what is going on. One second, she is wrapped in my arms and the next she is on top of Matt plunging the knife into his body. The moment the knife breaks skins, Matt jerks awake, dazed at first, until he realizes what’s going on. He tries to beg her to stop, but her fury blinds her.
She keeps stabbing him repeatedly, screaming profanities, blood spilling everywhere. Matt’s muffled cries slowly recede.
I lean on the wall, watching the scene in front of me unfold with a wicked smile on my face and my cock straining against my pants. She’s as vicious as I thought she would be. She just needed a little nudge in the right direction.