Chapter 4
Four
Clara
Burke's face—handsome, with that salt-and-pepper beard—is seared into my mind.
I’m concerned about the bloody towel he was holding to his head. Burke was paler than normal, and for a moment I struggle with wanting to check on him, but the rage that burns in my belly fuels me to stay within the walls of this kitchen where I finally have control.
The rare reassurance Burke gave me, along with the help, tells me I need to take care of Ryan so he can never fucking hurt another woman again.
“Clara, baby, you don’t really want to do this.” Ryan’s voice is coated in fake sugar. He always gives me emotional whiplash, and I’m tired of wearing a neck brace to appease him.
As my fingers brush the utensils, I pause at the pizza cutter. It’s not sharp enough to cause deep damage, but it’s adequate for what I need.
“Baby, you know my dad’s gonna come back. He’s trying to teach me a lesson.”
I ignore him as I step closer and tighten my grip on his hand, pressing it against the hard armrest until his fingers splay open. Letting out a determined breath, I run the blade under his fingernails.
“Fucking cunt. You wanna go there with me? Untie me and fight like a real person. You think you’re so fucking tough, but you’re a little wimp.
” Ryan knows the right words to wound me, to make my nervous system snap to survival mode, but I’ve been here so fucking long that there’s nowhere else for me to go.
“Save your breath, my darling,” I whisper to him. "We have a lot of kitchen tools to go through.”
He struggles against the belts but can’t break free. I pull away from his right hand, slits of blood dripping from his fingers.
I recall the night he bit every single fake nail off my hands because he didn’t want me to be pretty for everyone else, even though he was the one to pay for the mani-pedi.
Ryan has been the central part of my life for way too fucking long, and I’ve had enough. Each step has always been calculated, and even when playing his game correctly, I’m always fucking wrong.
“Clara, you don’t have the stomach for this. You can’t handle what you’re gonna do. You’re just a weak little girl.”
I grit my jaw, his words echoing my stepfather’s for years.
Oh, sweet Clara can’t do anything right. She can’t handle the pain, nor do the work.
If only they knew they had killed that girl a long time ago, stripped the soul out of her shell and threw away any pieces tying her to the woman who needed someone to help her.
I’m done fawning and pleasing everyone. Now whoever wrongs me must eat the revenge I serve.
I spin around, throwing the pizza cutter in the sink. Glancing over the counter, I grab the scissors next.
Approaching Ryan, I cut off his shirt, tearing the pieces off around his strapped limbs, removing his clothing until he’s naked. I want him to feel humiliation, but the alcohol in his system dulls any sensation except for the pain.
“Wanna final round, baby?” He bucks his hips, and I hold back from cutting his dick off right away. It seems too easy, and I can’t have him bleeding out on me before the fun begins.
Leaning against the counter, I grab the carrot-shaped peeler, and his eyes widen as I bring it toward him. With the sharp edge facing him, I spread my thumb and forefinger on either side of my target, then force it across his chest.
Soon his nipples slide off, and as I continue, I enjoy the sight of blood flowing from him.
“Fucking bitch,” Ryan spits, and I turn on the burner to heat a butter knife and stop the blood flow from his chest. Once hot enough, I press it to his skin, and the smell of burnt hair fills the area.
Ryan leans his head forward and tries to bite me. I jump back, and the knife drops from my hand as I snatch the stew pan and hit him on the side of his skull.
The thud lingers in my mind as his head lands on his shoulder again.
Fuck.
I want him to feel everything. I leave the kitchen and walk to our bedroom.
Piles of his clothes line the floor like I’m a personal maid, and I groan while kicking through them, searching for another belt. With no luck, I pull the cord from the television and out of the wall.
Striding back to the kitchen, I take the cord and wrap it under his nose to the back of the chair, pressing him in place.
As I turn to the counter, dishes crash into the sink before I grab the grater. Ryan is rousing, and I run my fingers over his buzz cut.
“Try to bite me now, fucker.” He jerks his gaze up, and his venomous hazel stare burns into mine. “So, you were saying I couldn’t handle this, right? That I couldn’t cause you the same pain you’ve inflicted on me for years?”
“Clara, you don’t wanna do this. What happens after, when my dad kicks you out? Where’re you gonna go? Your own father doesn’t even fucking want you.”
I bite my lip, gripping the cheese grater as I bring it to his forehead. Shaving off the flesh while he screams proves to be very therapeutic. The blood beads and trickles down his face.
Ryan’s words creep under my skin, but I can’t worry about who doesn’t want me or how I’ll survive after this.
I need to focus on the moment, serving torture and reclaiming my freedom. He can’t move forward, but that doesn’t stop him from wiggling around like a fish out of water.
Grabbing my long charging cable I use it to secure his hips to the chair like a seatbelt.
“What? Don’t you like it? The big tough man you think you are.” I grin, knowing he’s a little bitch wrapped in a scary package.
“Fuck you, cunt,” he bites out, and I’ve had enough of his words.
I throw the bloody grater into the sink and stare at my handiwork. It’s a rough-looking job, but his skin hangs in small peels on his lap and across his broad chest.
Crimson stains the floor, each drop a testament to the evil unleashed upon me. The metallic tang of blood fills the air, a sickeningly sweet scent. With the metal kabob sticks in hand, I turn and move back to him.
“You stole so much of my fucking life. You sucked the happiness out of my veins for years. I knew better. I should never have listened to the words you crooned to me because I fell for your stupid games.” Strength runs through my blood, and with an inhale, I feel like a different person.
With a skewer in my hand, I grab his dick and pull until there’s no more skin to stretch—which isn’t much.
Can’t believe I was going to lose my life to a mediocre man with a pathetic cock. I spear the end to the wooden chair with a meat tenderizer.
He howls, and I enjoy being on the other end of that sound. Ryan has taken so much from me, more than I was ever freely willing to give, and as I look at him, I can’t help but smile, knowing I’m about to give him more. It’s finally my time to decide what happens.
“Fuck you, bitch. When I get out of these ties, I’m going to beat you black and blue. You think you’ve had it bad before? I’ll break every bone in your body and then fuck you to death.”
“Ryan, when I’m done with this, you won’t be able to fuck anything.” I smile before grabbing the lemon zester.
A woman who’s had enough and has nothing left to lose is a dangerous creature. Empowerment zips through me, and I feel alive for the first time in so long.
As I drag the sharp metal edge over his shaft, small cuts appear and blood beads. His face drips sweat as pained screams fill my ears.
“What’s wrong, baby? Does it hurt? Just close your eyes. You’re going to love what I have for you.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine anymore. In place of the meek woman I once was, a dark, malevolent being stands leaning over his shoulder.
Lukewarm wetness distracts me momentarily. Did he fucking piss himself?
“All you ever do is create messes for me to clean up,” I hiss. Remembering the many nights he forced me against the mattress and took whatever he wanted against my cries, I continue to shred his cock, this time with more enthusiasm.
Once his junk is a mangled mess, I toss the zester to join its bloody friends.
Ryan is covered in red, and part of me is surprised. My heart thought he would bleed black because of how he treated me for so long. He’s only been a monster that takes and smothers my light for too many fucking years.
Yanking the kabob stick from his pecker, I jam it into his ear. “Can you hear me now? The word is no. It’s a full-ass fucking sentence.”
Ryan’s eyes roll back in his head, and his mutilated body shakes in front of me, but I know he’s not dead yet. His darkened soul will cling to this life with its talons.
“How many nights did I beg, Ry? Hundreds? Thousands? You’d laugh and make me bleed, but now, baby, it’s your turn, isn’t it?” A maniacal sound escapes my throat, and laughter bubbles in my stomach.
The kabob skewer clatters to the floor, and as his cries lower into whimpers and shallow breaths, I know my time is running out.
I swirl around and check out the blades in the block that Burke brought. Choosing a utility and a chef’s knife, I walk over to Ryan. Two more things to do to him burn in my belly.
“Remember how much you yelled at me? The ribs you broke ‘cause I wasn’t smiling enough? Recall the work party we went to where my appearance disappointed you? When we got home, you hit me ‘til I couldn’t breathe, ’til I couldn’t stand up, and you fucked me ‘til I bled? Remember that night, Ryan?”
The memories run through my mind like a bad movie I can’t turn off, and bile rises in my throat as tears form behind my eyes. Gripping the smaller of the two, I hold the back of his head with my other hand and carve a smile into his cheeks.
“Joker style, baby. You’ll always be able to smile now. Even in death, you’ll look so pretty for the king of hell.”
Crimson pours from his face, and as his chest falters I drop the knife and slide the other into his neck. The floor is no longer scuffed grey marble; instead, a brown and red mix in a swirl of bad memories, pouring out of the monster that kept me under his thumb for too long.
Once the silence envelops me, I’m shaking. Glancing down, I’m covered in blood and the sour stench of fear. I’m no better than the fucker in front of me. I never thought I would feel this emotion.
The anger melts and the sinister thoughts tuck back inside my mind. I back away from him, trembling, staring at what I’ve done. My lips curve into a small smile before I let the emotion fully take over.
When the first sob escapes me, there’s nothing I can do to hold them back. Freedom was supposed to taste sweet, not like a heavier burden to carry. I slip in the blood and slide down the wall until the ground catches me.
Glancing over at Ryan through my clouded vision of tears, the present slams into me like a freight train, and I wonder what happens next.
I don’t have money or an exit plan. I’ve lost all my family and friends, and while he wasn’t any good for me, Ryan was the only person in my life.
The beauty of revenge slips away, and the glaring reality surrounds me under the harsh kitchen lights.
I’m going to rot in prison because the cops wouldn’t take me seriously, because the Prince Charming I chose was a sadistic fucker who thought he owned me. I let the emotions swallow me and succumb to the sobs that won’t stop.