11. Kameron
Chapter eleven
Kameron
T his is not the dead body I expected to have on my hands tonight, I think as I stare down at the man tied to the armchair in my motel room. Blood is pouring from his nose, due to his inability to admit he’s a pervert. Honestly, I had fully planned on following a drunk Lilith Jones home. Making it look as though her grief had gotten the best of her. But seeing her cold gray eyes ignite as she lost it on my current victim sparked something in me as well. No one was going to play around with my pest before I had the chance. So here I was after leaving the bar with this sack of shit in my trunk.
“Alright buddy! Are you ready to try again?” I grin down at him.
“Fuck you,” he snarls back. I let out a sigh as I begin to pace back and forth in front of him.
“It’s funny to me how predators never seem to realize when they're finally the ones in danger.” I grab the pen off the hotel desk and stroll back over to the man, clicking it open.
“Oh no,” he says sarcastically as he spits out some of the blood that dripped down from his nose, “What are you going to do? Write on me ?”
I flash him one more smile as I bend down and unbutton his shirt. “In.” His face contorts with confusion right before I pierce into his chest with the tip of the pen. The pig’s eyes glaze over with shock as he looks from me to the trickle of blood sliding down from the entrance on his chest. “Now buddy,” I say, bringing his full attention back to me. “I’m
really bad at grammar, why don’t you help me out so I don't have to fix all the mistakes I'm about to make?”
“W-w-what?” He stutters, eyes growing wider.
“Well if you weren't going to say it, the least you could do is help me spell it.” I start to drag the pen through his flesh as I remind him, “better hurry and get to spelling, or this first letter is going to be an M.”
“I,” he rushes out, realizing it's in his best interest to take my threat seriously. My pen moves straight down through his skin and muscle to create the letter, before pulling it out and shoving it back in a space away.
“A.M” His breathing grows shaky as I carve the next word in. Blood pours out of the wounds, soaking into the waist of his pants, now dark with urine. “Please don’t do this. She was just some bitch dressed like a slut anyways,” he pleads, “she’s not worth the legal trouble.”
“Legal trouble?” I question as I pierce the skin again, readying myself for the next word.
“Let me go now and I promise I won't involve the cops. I get it man. Everyone has gotten worked up over some good pussy every now and again.”
I let out a chuckle, “Who says you're leaving at all?” I look up just in time to watch the blood drain from his face. What a beautiful sight. He begins to wail and scream for help, and I just sit back and watch. After a few minutes, he tires himself out and stares back at me.
“Are you going to continue your little spelling lesson or are we just going to sit here while you slowly bleed out?”
“Why isn't anyone coming?” His voice comes out broken and defeated. “This is a fucking motel. There’s no way the other guests can't hear me.”
I start flicking the pen lodged in his chest, making it swing up and down as I respond. “This is the shittiest motel in this city. It’s full of drug addicts high off their rockers, and other shady criminals trying to get shit done. No one wants the cops here. Now,” I bark, “are you going to fucking continue or should I just write the whole god damn alphabet?”
“A.” The letter breaks through his sobs.
“Last word buddy, see I knew you could do it!” I cheer him on as though he’s a child spelling his name out for the first time.
“P.E.R.” He gets out before he starts dry heaving. I grip his chin and turn him just in time for him to vomit down his side instead of over my art work. The man’s sobs grow so loudly, his whole body shakes with them. “Oh God please stop!” He screams.
“God’s not here,” I chuckle in return. “But feel free to tell him I said hello when you meet.” I start to take over as he begins to flow in and out of consciousness. Finishing off my work with a V.E.R.T. I cross my T as his head finally stops flopping up and down. Drool streams out of his mouth and mixes with his blood. I sit back on my heels to admire my job. The pest is safe for now, safe from everything but me.