Chapter 2
Phoenyx
One Week Later
I ’ve been a good girl all week. I haven’t gone after anyone yet, but I’m excited too.
I have someone picked out, and everything is ready.
He lives alone and doesn’t have security cameras.
I am still wearing a mask with my hair pulled into it.
I am also wearing shoes that are not my size in case I leave prints behind.
I also have gloves, and I am fully clothed, so there is not a chance of touch DNA being transferred.
Apparently, that’s a thing now. I am essentially wearing a bodysuit.
The first night in the cabin, my nightmares were horrendous.
Every day after that, they have gotten slightly better.
Last night was the first time I slept through the night since before the attack.
My nightmares were still awful, but they didn’t wake me up this time.
I’m hoping that after murdering this dumb fucker, I can go without a nightmare altogether.
My work week has been fabulous. I love being back in the office.
Everyone is so kind and thoughtful. I expected people to stare at a minimum, but no one is treating me any differently.
I know they see the scars because I’m not exactly hiding them, and they know what happened to me, so it’s refreshing to not be treated like an office freak.
I think what pisses me off the most is that the friends that I did have are gone now.
My recovery was an inconvenience to them, and they all stopped texting.
None of them ever showed up to check on me either.
Cade messaged from my phone to let them know, but they all gave their fake sincerity before eventually abandoning the group chat altogether.
All they were ever concerned about was partying, and I can’t exactly go clubbing when I had over five hundred stitches in my body, so fuck them. I didn’t need them anyway.
The man I have chosen to hunt first is Roger Harrington.
He raped and tortured a girl named Lacey.
He met her at a bar but then followed her after she rejected him.
She ended up with permanent brain damage because of what he did to her.
Her best friend Sasha is the one who put his information on the dark web when the charges were dismissed, so I let her know that I would take care of him.
Apparently, people get paid to do this, but all I need is the satisfaction that they will never hurt anyone ever again.
This led to an influx of unknown people reaching out to see if I would take care of their person.
I will go through all of those later, but right now I am focused on Roger.
Men like him don’t think anything bad will ever happen to them.
They think they are invincible. Untouchable.
I go to the back door and find that it is unlocked.
Wonderful. Once inside, I find the door to his basement and go down as quietly as I can.
I set up an area in the center of the room with a table resting on top of thick plastic.
I have meticulously planned every step of this, so I know that there will not be a shred of evidence left behind.
Once I have everything to my liking, the rest is simple.
I scream at the top of my lungs to grab his attention.
Almost immediately, I hear his heavy footsteps stomping through the house toward me.
I stay to the side so that he doesn’t see me immediately.
Not like there is much to see. I have tight black pants, long-sleeved black shirt, a scream mask that covers everything from the top of my head to down past my shoulders.
I have tall, solid black boots on that are two sizes too big.
It’s going to take some getting used to before I can tolerate wearing these boots, but it’s just an extra step to make sure nothing leads back to me.
I even parked a mile away so I could walk here.
Roger steps off the stairs, and I press the barrel of a gun against the back of his head. He freezes before slowly turning to face me. “Well, hello there,” he says with a smirk.
“Go to the table,” I say simply. I knew that he would not cooperate, but really, I just wanted an excuse to shoot him in the foot. When I lower the weapon and pull the trigger, he screams and drops to the ground to hold his now bloody foot.
“You crazy bitch!” he screams. “You shot me!”
“Go. To. The. Table,” I say, pausing between each word. He hesitates, so I point the gun at his other foot. He instantly responds and crawls his way over to the table. “Stand.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he yells at me. I giggle to myself because he has no idea what I’m going to do to him.
“Take your clothes off,” I say. “Now.”
“Who put you up to this?” he demands.
“No one,” I say as I watch him remove his clothes.
“I just hate men who think it’s okay to take from women.
Tell me, Roger. How many times did Lacey beg you to stop?
Hmm? How many times did she beg you to stop raping her or beating her?
How much blood did you need to see before you finally stopped? ”
“I didn’t… she wanted that,” he snaps.
“Right,” I laugh. “She wanted to be beaten in the head so many times that she no longer knows who she is. She wanted permanent brain damage that now requires around the clock care because you just wanted to take and take from her until she had nothing left to give.”
“I—”
“Bend over the table. Now,” I yell.
“What? No. Are you?—”
“I swear to God, I will shove this gun up your ass and pull the trigger until you stop breathing,” I growl.
“Bend. Over.” He is teary-eyed now, but he listens.
I go over and tie his wrists together before securing them to the table.
I then tie each foot to the legs of the table before going to my bag.
“W-What are you doing?” he stammers.
“Showing you what it feels like,” I say as I pull the lube and massive dildo out of the bag.
I bought the largest and most damaging dildo I could find.
That led me to a seventeen-inch rhino dildo with a three-and-a-half-inch girth.
Roger start to scream and mumbles something into his gag, but I ignore him as I get the belt out of the bag.
It is a simple black leather belt. The first time I slap the belt across his back, a flood of emotions hit me.
It all manifests as anger again, so I keep hitting him.
His screams are blissful. I imagine it’s the screams of my attackers.
Soon.
Eventually, I toss the belt down and spread lube all over the dildo and his ass.
I would rather fuck him dry, but this thing definitely needs a little help if it’s going to go inside of him.
He is sobbing and begging me to stop, knowing what I’m about to do with this toy.
Hearing him plead and cry for me not to rape him is ironic.
He sounds like I did before I was raped.
“What’s wrong, Roger? I thought you liked pain?” I ask. “You put Lacey in a lot of pain, didn’t you?”
“Please don’t,” he cries.
“You don’t deserve the oxygen you breathe.
You are a piece of shit scum, and I can’t fucking wait to watch you take your last breath,” I say before lining the dildo up with his asshole and pushing in as hard and fast as I can.
His scream is shrill, and he starts bleeding almost instantly.
I keep pushing and pushing until I force him to take all of it.
It is buried up to the silicone balls and he is still screaming.
Doesn’t he know that if you tense up, it hurts more?
I start fucking him with the dildo, and I keep pushing in as deep as I can.
His screams are like a new form of meditation.
I am calm, and all the anxiety has drifted away as he begs me to stop hurting him.
A mixture of blood, lube, and shit coats the toy, and I can’t help but laugh when I see that despite the pain and tearing, his body is responding.
I stop before he finds any sort of release as his body shakes.
I take this opportunity to redo his restraints and push him up on the table so that he is face up with the dildo still buried in his ass.
He is restrained with rope, with his arms above his head and his ankles to the legs of the table.
I get the blade out of my bag and lay it on his belly.
I made sure to sharpen it well so that when I cut him, it glides through his flesh with ease.
I dump a bunch of lube into my gloved hand and start stroking his cock.
He understands I’m about to do something terrible, so he starts crying again.
I say nothing, and I keep pumping his dick in my hand.
I want to get him as close as I possibly can before I make the cut.
I can tell he’s starting to get close because his cries are heavily laced with moans and his body is tense.
I abruptly stop, and he relaxes. I repeat this process over and over again, getting him as close as I can before stopping.
“Please,” he whimpers.
“Aww. Does Roger want to come?”
“It’s t-torture,” he moans as I start to stroke his cock again. “Fuuuck. Stoooop.”
“Only good boys get to come. Have you been a good boy?” I ask.
“Y-Yes,” he chokes out.
“Tell the truth, Roger. Have you been a good boy?” I ask.
“No…”
“That’s right. Roger is a naughty boy. Do you know what happens to naughty little boys, Roger?” I ask.
“W-What?”
“They get punished,” I growl.