20. Kill Me
20
Kill Me
Theron
“Kill me! Please!” The words were gargled through the blood pooling in his mouth. “Kill me …”
The quivering heap of flesh bled profusely onto the vinyl tile of my operating room, draining slowly towards the drain in the floor. Teeth lay scattered at my feet. My gloves were coated in the thick, crimson sludge I’d coaxed from his body, it seemed to cling to the air like a mist as I pulled his jaw apart. It was like a wild and beautiful spray, arching over the table and sticking to the glass walls.
I smiled, slicing his final detached finger in half before bringing it to his lips. I’d already forced the other nine down his throat — I’d broken his jaw when he tried to bite me, so his mangled mouth was slack while he screamed.
“Argh!”
“Kill you? Oh, Matty boy, I have the resources to keep you alive for as long as it pleases me to do so, and fuck does this please me.” I said honestly before shoving the boneless digit down his throat. I’d gone through his pockets after strapping him down and found a roll of condoms, his wallet, a CharlieCard for the train and his house keys. I looked back down at this blood spattered ID card before flicking it onto the blood drenched floor.
Matthew Mann choked on his own finger as it was forced into his body, his shoulders convulsing wildly as I cauterized the place his pinky finger used to be. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I’d say you’re ready for fun to begin.”
I pulled out the scalpel and let my eyes roam over his naked body, decorated in shitty tattoos and a smattering of scars that appeared to be cigarette burns. I wish I could say that childhood abuse wasn’t a common denominator in the long line of monstrous people I’d dispatched, but they’d all learned it from somewhere. There were, of course, those like me. Born with an inherent darkness, who’d never had the proper guidance to refine their urges, but that wasn’t my burden to bear. I’d been fortunate enough to have a father who directed my knife, their lack of instruction and restraint did not give them a free pass to harm innocents. They would bleed under my knife just the same.
I’d seen the signs in a boy I met while traveling through Poland with a few of my college friends. He had a mop of inky-black hair and wide eyes that never seemed to blink enough for the comfort of others, and he’d watch the women around him with a dangerous hunger that I wondered about every night. He’d hold a cheap bottle of vodka to his lips, legs bouncing on the restaurant terraces as young women walked by on their way to the clubs. On more than one occasion during that summer I’d witness scared women stumbling from his bedroom, eyes glazed over and obviously disorientated. I wanted more than anything to corner him — force the truth from his lips, but I was at a disadvantage being so far from home. I was in another hunter’s territory.
“Matty, should I start on your right leg, or your left? I’ll let you choose since you finished your dinner without much fuss,” I laughed as the monster cried and cried. He sounded akin to a squealing pig, wasting air through a broken jaw and bleeding gums where teeth had once sat.
“Please!” He begged me again, and I sighed. You try to be reasonable, charitable, with the likes of him and yet they refuse?
“I’ll start with the pad of your right foot, and see how you like the taste?”
“Kill me! Kill me! Fucking kill —”
The music in my operating room increased as I motioned with my smartwatch, and the roaring swell of vocals and electric guitar weaving through the sounds of Matty’s agony. It became a symphony all on its own, the ecstatic screaming of the rock music and the animal’s cries for mercy.
I’d just started my incision on the ball of his right foot when a thump sounded against the glass — two thumps — so quiet I’d barely registered them over the noise. My head swiveled, irritation flaring that Tabitha would bother me during a personal matter but worried that something was wrong with Ever — but it wasn’t my assistant.
Two clover eyes stared wide at me like a doe in the road, her hair dancing around her in wild curls like they could very well have a mind of their own. Her cheeks were still red tinged and puffy from where Matty had hit her.
“Rabbit?” I said in alarm, dropping the scalpel. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t see this”
Ever turned her attention to the wailing man, her eyes taking in his pain like a spotlight on a stage — my stage. Her head tilted slightly to one side, and then to the other as Matty shook on my table so hard it rattled his restraints. But Ever didn’t appear afraid. She seemed guarded, but curious. This was not how I’d seen things going since her reaction to my family business was less than ideal, but then again, she hadn’t run either. Well, she took off this morning, but I do believe it was because she needed time to think, and then the worst happened.
I looked between Ever and the squealing pig, and thought of her background. So many records from before she was seventeen were sealed, but her journals alluded to a less than ideal childhood at the hands of an unnamed mother. A ruthless combination of child abuse, teenage trauma and chronic illness could result in curious draws towards the macabre and in her case, death.
I eased my way towards the window, staring at her through the splattering of blood, and smiled. “Ever, dear? Did you want to get a closer look?”
Could she really be the other half of me, enthralled by the pain and power that came with the blade? God, I prayed that she was.
She blinked, taking in a deep breath before she met my eyes. Her voice was muffled through the glass, “Is it safe?”
Almost on cue Matty pleaded again. “Kill me! Fuck you! Kill me, please!”
“Quite safe, little rabbit,” I answered her honestly. She would be in no more danger in my operating room than in my home. “But you’ll need to scrub in.”
She followed my gaze to the scrubs, masks and gloves arranged neatly next to a stainless steel sink. She slowly pulled the scrubs over her clothes, then moved to wash her hands.
“Not necessary, rabbit. The scrubs are to protect you from whatever he may carry, but we aren’t concerned about him getting a few germs. My operating room will be disinfected before the next harvest and transfer. Please double your gloves and mask, though and use the face shield.”
She could very well be immunocompromised, and though the HIV/AIDS test I ran on Matty came back negative I wouldn’t take risks when it came to her. She nodded, still quiet, and pulled on the gloves before placing the mask over her face, doubling both and pulling on the face shield. Once she appeared appropriately covered, I opened the door and she immediately scrunched her nose.
“Pungent,” I said. “Fear and pain bring forth the worst odors human bodies have to offer and burned flesh is never a favorable smell.” Matty had pissed himself immediately on waking on my table, as Tabitha had predicted. He’d probably shit himself soon enough.
“You’ve taken his fingers,” Ever noted, taking a step into the room and allowing the door to close behind her. She moved cautiously, placing one foot in front of the other like she was walking a tight-rope. Something crunched below her foot, and she looked down. “And his teeth,” she added in a hushed tone.
She prowled around my OR like a cat, her body tense and alert. I moved quietly, fearing that one wrong move or loud noise would scare her off for good.
“I made him eat the hands that he used to hurt you,” I said without remorse. “And his teeth — well he tried to bite me, and a muzzle would have made it difficult to get the fingers down his throat.”
She nodded, but all I could see were her green eyes moving about the floor and taking in the carnage I had already wrought on his body. “How long will you let this go on?”
“Until my point is made,” I answered quickly.
She peered over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Your point?”
Moving closer to her, I kicked away a few molars and finger bones that I’d carelessly discarded on the floor. On a usual harvest, I’d be focused on collecting the organs with as little stress to the body of the donor as possible so that everything remained viable, but I had little concern with what happened to Matty’s body parts or cortisone levels.
Ever was very still, her chest barely rising and falling as she waited patiently for my answer. If I hadn’t been covered in blood I’d have wrapped her in my arms. “That you’re mine , and anyone stupid enough to touch you will die in agony. I don’t take kindly to seeing you in pain, and whatever is done unto you will be done unto others tenfold.”
She was quiet again, turning back to the groaning animal and peering down at him with interest where he lay strapped to the operating table. Raising a gloved hand, she carefully poked the nubs where his fingers used to be, flinching in surprise when he screamed out.
“Arghh!!”
“Tenfold, you say?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, and watched her explore the animal’s shaking body with detached novelty as if he wasn’t real but an animatronic in a horror house. Maybe that was how she was able to be so close to him and not run from here screaming. She walked around to his head, gazing impassively with a raised brow as he moaned.
“Make him stop,” he begged her with mumbling hiccups. Without his teeth and with most of his mouth being filled with blood, his sentences all ran together. “Please!”
Ever tilted her head. “Why would I do that?” She asked him genuinely with a high pitched tone to her voice. “You didn’t stop when I begged you.”
Yes, my valkyrie. My angel. I’ll wring his apologies from bleeding lips and shattered bones if it pleases you.
Ever’s hand snapped out and pressed into his bleeding gums with enough force to shove his head sideways, as I watched on in delighted shock. Something had broken open inside of her, and now all of her anguish was flooding out onto the bloodied floor of the OR. She had a look of pure hatred on her angelic face, her shoulders tight while he screamed at her. “Stop! Stop!”
“No!” She screamed back at him before turning towards my instrument table, eyes wild. I stepped forward with raised hands before she could fumble for a scalpel and ruin him unnecessarily early.
“Now, now, rabbit. You mustn’t lose yourself in here, or the relief will never come. You haven’t an idea of where to slice, of which arteries to avoid, and if you kill him too soon — ”
“Then teach me,” she hissed out her demand.
My lips curled devilishly, and my cock hardened at her words. Teach me. Teach me. Teach me. Oh god, Theron, please teach me!
I cleared my throat. “Do you understand that this is not typical of my practice,” I clarified, picking up the scalpel. “When harvesting, the hunt must remain at a low level of stress or the donor organs can suffer.”
She flinched slightly, shaking her head. “I don’t care about your hunts , Theron. I’m talking about right now, and I want him to suffer under my hand. To make him understand that his own cruelty is nothing compared to mine. I want to feed on his pain,” she was practically begging me.
She was so very obvious, now. This wasn’t only about Matty here, but whoever he was from her journals. The body in front of her would work perfectly well as a proxy for her pain, and fuck if I would deny her anything in the world she wanted. I would cut myself to pieces if it pleased her for me to do so, and hand her my beating and bloodied heart with a smile. I could deny her nothing in this life, so I stepped alongside her with the instrument in my hand and smiled.
“As you wish, little rabbit.”