Chapter 29 Now, This is the Easy Part
Now, This is the Easy Part
RIPLEY
Ifeel like a God, finally embracing the anger I’ve buried so deep for so, so long.
At first, I was afraid it would cloud my judgment, but everything is crystal clear.
And I know exactly what I have to do.
“The thing about skinnin’ someone?” Preacher comes up behind me, sliding a hand around my waist and kissing up and down my neck. “It’s messy work. You don’t wanna get your pretty dress dirty, do you?”
The soft sensation of his lips is only heightened by his rough stubble brushing up against me, spurring me on.
“Well, then you’d better take it off of me.”
He slowly unzips the dress, sliding it off of my shoulders and taking my hand, helping me step out of it. I’m left in nothing but my heels and underwear, and he spins me around, gazing at me like an artist would a newly chiseled statue.
“Perfect, just perfect.”
“Not quite. I hope you’re willing to take your own advice.”
I purr, popping open the buttons of his shirt.
“Tonight, I’ll make an exception.”
Preacher shivers as I unzip his jeans, reaching inside and wrapping my fingers around his cock. I watch those dark lashes flutter gently, the beginnings of a moan slipping from his lips, and I can’t help myself, slamming my mouth into his.
“You people are fucking sick!” Jonathan manages to choke out.
“You focus on me,” Preacher murmurs, resting one hand on my waist. “And I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
He grabs a knife, placing it in my hand before leading me toward our victim. Up close, his skin reminds me of a dolphin’s, slick and glistening as he takes his trembling breaths.
“Please!” Jonathan begs. “I’ll give you money! I’ll give you anything you want.”
“The only thing we want is for your heart to stop beating, Johnny,” Preacher chuckles. “And we’ll get there, one way or another.”
I can feel his cock throbbing against my ass as he gently guides my wrist, leaving the knife to hover just above Jonathan’s heel.
“Now, sometimes I like to start by cutting right here.” He dips his head, nipping at my earlobe. “The achilles tendon is the thickest one in the human body, which means it’s a little tougher than usual. You have to use just the right amount of pressure.”
Preacher smacks Jonathan’s bare thigh.
“Count yourself lucky, pretty boy, you won’t be feeling almost any of this, at least until we start peeling the skin off your back!”
The terrified howl the man lets out gives me goosebumps as Preacher guides my hand, the two of us making the first cut together. I smile as his achilles splits like a stick of butter beneath the blade.
I’m finally reaching my true potential.
Not a lot of people get to follow their passions, do they?
I’ve been so focused on getting this right that I’d completely forgotten about the music, that is, until I hear the scream of keyboards followed up with a thumping bassline.
Obsession by Animotion.
Another good choice.
Jonathan’s pleas for mercy blend with the music as we work, and I’m relieved to realize that I’m not feeling any guilt. In its place, there’s a beautiful anticipation, like I’m about to rip a cork out of a champagne bottle on New Year’s Eve.
“Now, you wanna keep the pressure light, that way you’re not tearing into the meat. The product needs to look clean; clients don’t want the shit that looks like it’s been chewed up, and I don’t like spending extra time fixing mistakes when it’s all over.”
“I understand.”
I lean back into Preacher’s weight, trusting him to guide my hand while I do my best to memorize the exact method he uses to slip the knife beneath the skin. It’s been a while since I’ve given something my complete and undivided attention, but I want to get this right.
I want to be perfect.
When he gestures for me to take over, I’m surprised by how easily I manage to detach the skin from the rest of the shimmering red muscle. It almost looks velvety, like it would be soft and luxurious to the touch.
“Atta girl,” Preacher rumbles, kissing my temple. “Keep going.”
Jonathan’s pleas for mercy grow weaker and weaker until they’re nearly swallowed up by the music.
He’s hanging limp now, barely moving, and the two of us ignore his little twitches and bursts of energy as Preacher guides me through the more complicated cuts.
Once we’re finished, our prey’s pale skin hangs from his body like angel’s wings.
“Now, this is the easy part. All we gotta do is make a couple of cuts like this…” He pulls the skin taut and slips the knife through it, the same way my mom used to cut wrapping paper. “And it comes right off. Easy.”
We walk the large sheets over to the killing table, laying them out flat one by one.
“Now, we have one more thing to do.”
Preacher dives into his knife roll, pulling out a long needle, tearing the cap off with his teeth, and spitting it onto the floor.
“What is it?”
“Adrenaline. You want him to be awake when you kill him, right? You just have to stick him with this.”
I nod, taking the needle and sauntering toward my prey, swishing my hips as I walk.
But the closer I get, the more lifeless he looks.
“Is this even gonna do anything?” I ask. “He seems pretty dead.”
“Trust me, little rabbit. He’ll wake up.”
I set my knife down on the ground, taking a deep breath before plunging the needle right into his chest. There’s a beat or two where nothing happens, but just as I reach forward to check his pulse he begins to thrash and scream, his face twisted up in delicious agony.
“There he is!” Preacher snickers. “Welcome back, Johnny boy! We’ve missed you!”
“P— p—” He coughs, blood dripping from his lips. “Pl—”
“What was that?” I ask, retrieving the knife before dragging the tip across his belly. “Speak up, sweetheart.”
He looks absolutely pathetic, tears rushing down his cheeks as he struggles to maintain a semblance of steady breathing, and if I had even an ounce of humanity still left inside me, maybe I would feel sorry for him.
Maybe.
But how many women has he left shattered? Blaming themselves? Wishing they’d never shown him an ounce of kindness?
The shock must be fucking with his ability to speak because all he manages to do is stammer, paler than a fucking ghost as he drips sweat and blood onto the floor.
And all over my new shoes.
I hate to sound like a yuppie, but that kind of pisses me off.
“You know, you should be thanking me. If we gave you to the cops, you’d spend the rest of your life getting shit-kicked in a maximum security prison.
Did you know that rapists, wife beaters, and child molesters are the lowest rungs on the ladder in there?
Or did your daddy not mention that before he went and left you all alone? ”
I ready myself, placing one foot in front of the other, aiming right at his gut. He keeps stammering, struggling to speak, but before he can even make another concrete sound, the knife is in his belly, tearing through flesh, muscle, and organs with ease.
The familiar tingling sensation in my jaw returns with a vengeance, this time shooting all the way through the rest of my body. I can feel my cunt throb and ache with each twist of the knife, but all I can think about is Preacher.
I turn to him, pulling the knife out and licking it clean, my eyes rolling back as the beast inside of me claws its way to freedom.
I’m starting to realize that he was right about the first time I killed.
I was sloppy and enraged, not fully in control.
This time, the quiet part of my anger has taken hold.
The part of me that suffered in silence while the men in my life hurt me.
Gabriel.
My father.
That piece of me has been waiting for this kind of vengeance.
No more hiding.
Just before I can stab Jonathan a final time, I feel Preacher’s hands wrap around my waist, stopping me in my tracks.
“You did good, rabbit, but let’s finish this together. Just for fun, I can show you how to pull out his intestines.”
Preacher plunges his hand inside the open wound, rooting around before dragging out what looks like a thick, glistening rope.
The scent of copper floods my nostrils and coats my tongue. I can almost taste it, like a dirty penny that’s been left sitting in a puddle for months. It overpowers everything and almost makes me gag at first, but I can’t help myself, reaching out and brushing my fingers against the intestines.
“Ripley.”
His hand trails down my neck, smearing the sinner’s blood across my chest and down my stomach as he lowers himself to his knees. Even the deep crease between his brows has disappeared as he gazes up at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Whatever you ask.” He places a delicate kiss on my thigh. “Tonight, I serve only you.”