Chapter 32 Red Was My Favorite Color
MAGDALENA
My heart painfully thumped. I couldn’t hear the girl’s screams, but her frightened expression made me giggle. Then I realized she was running away from me.
It hurt my feelings.
I had just saved her life! That wasn’t fair. We should be besties forever! Although, forever would only be a few minutes ’cause they’d come soon to execute us.
Although I couldn’t hear, her panic and lack of gratitude annoyed the fuck out of me, but I didn’t have time to think about any of that.
I turned back to him and stabbed him where his kidneys were again and motherfucking again with more strength than I’d ever thought myself to have.
The blood was nice and warm on my hands and splashing out of him.
This was so delicious. The knife slashed into a gooey fat organ with the texture of gelatin but more substantial.
I liked how the blood made my hands nice and slippery.
While looking at my hands covered in the most beautiful color I’d ever seen, I was no longer in the room.
There was dirt and grass around me. A full bright moon lit everything.
I could hear the bugs buzzing. I smiled at the sudden change in location.
There was a familiarity with the place, but I couldn’t remember where I was.
In those seconds, I’d made an important decision—red was my favorite color. Upon grabbing the gun, I somehow blinked myself back into the room, waiting for the door to open. We might not survive today, but that didn’t mean some of them wouldn’t also die. I laughed.
“What are you doing?” Her repeated screams were muffled by the ringing in my ears.
Then I realized I’d been dipping my hand into his wound, cupping the blood, and rubbing it all over my face, neck, shoulders, and chest.
It felt good, so warm. It was addicting. I couldn’t stop. “Bathing in the blood of my enemy. What are you doing?”
“You fucking crazy witch.”
“Are you mad at me because I peed all over you? I’m so sorry. There’s a bathroom there if you want to wash your face before they get here. Oh, and may I commend you on your tongue action? That’s the fastest I’ve ever come.” I paused, my brow wrinkled. “I think.”
“They’re gonna kill us!”
“Mm-hmm.” I nodded while covering my tits in blood.
“Magdalena, if you don’t stop playing with your dolls and come downstairs, Mom’s gonna be mad.
Come on.” I looked around. Who’s voice was that?
It gave me a sweet familiarity, a sensation I hadn’t felt in too long—safety.
Wait, he said Magdalena. Is that my name?
Magdalena? It didn’t feel like mine. The room around me had changed.
Excitement filled my entire existence. I was in my bedroom with the fluffy pink carpet and little playhouse.
The sun beamed through the windows above me, and the wind blew my see-through curtains.
“But Daddy, I’m having so much fun.” I brought my bloody hand to my nose and smelled it.
“It smells so good, Daddy.” He was at the doorway, so I smiled at him.
The memories were popping back into my mind slowly and haphazardly.
I remembered him. Daddy! Daddy! He looked so strong and handsome while leaning on the doorframe.
“How ’bout this? If you join us downstairs and eat your dinner, I’ll read the Ugly Duckling to you again?”
“Really?”
“Do I ever lie to you?”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t, Daddy.”
“Come, my beautiful baby girl.” Daddy’s smile always made me feel happy, like everything was going to be just fine. A beaming smile spread on my lips at his open arms, and just when I was about to get up and run into them, the pain in my feet and legs shot up to my spinal cord.
I fell, the impact bringing me back to reality.
Daddy was nowhere to be seen. I wasn’t at home, safe, I was in a disgusting dark room, sitting in what had become a pool of blood.
I had been talking in her direction and trying to move toward her, not to Dad.
Her eyes were wide and tears spilled out, as if I’d killed a loved one of hers.
She kept screaming, like a hysterical damsel in distress.
I recovered, and like a snake, I slithered to her with the gun in one hand and the knife blade between my teeth.
She cringed away from me as I got closer, still hysterical.
I slapped her as hard as I could. “Stop it. What the fuck is the matter with you?”
“You just killed my trainer. You’re fucking psycho.”
“Probably not a good idea to call a psycho that. It’s a bit derogatory.
Don’t you think?” I chuckled while she studied me.
Uggh. She didn’t get the joke. If she was the picture of mental health, I’d rather die.
So, fucking boring. I couldn’t believe I had to explain it to her. “He ordered me to kill you—”
“I loved him.” She gasped and hiccuped from the sobbing. “If that’s what he wanted—” She shrugged and I slapped her again. She held her blood-stained cheek while turning her face away from me, crying.
“Shut the fuck uuuuuup! Look at me!” I roared, and grabbed her jaw, then turned her head toward me.
“There’s no question that we’re going to die today, but at least we’ll kill some of them.
Less of them to torture the other girls.
Right? Remember when you first got here?
Remember all that they did to you to make you love him? ”
She nodded.
“Well … it’s time to avenge that girl.” Tears marked new tracks on her cheeks, and she looked so fucking helpless it disgusted me.
It was good we were going to get killed in a few minutes because I never wanted to look like her, and it was obvious that’s exactly where I was headed.
Daddy wouldn’t have understood that; he wouldn’t have been proud of it.
“Listen, no girl who sucks my pussy like that is going to die taking abuse from these assholes.” Her shock switched to an infectious chuckle. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
The door opened and bullets hit the wall near us. “I can’t get up. I’ll shoot at them from here. Go by the door and stab them in the throat. Don’t think, just stab.”
I turned around and shot the guy shooting at us. Then another stood at the door, and I shot that one too. No one else tried to come in. If I was lucky, this gun had more than six bullets loaded. I slithered closer to the bathroom so they’d have to walk deeper into the room to shoot me.
Tarratatatatatatatatat! I guessed the next guy had an AR-15 or something.
Oh well. I wasn’t near where he was shooting.
He was wasting bullets. It was laughable that they were bringing the micropenis assholes who needed an automatic to kill two tortured slave girls.
Pathetic idiots. I laughed, and the girl took a peek at me, then turned back to a guy right in front of her and froze. No!
“Fucking stab him!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, and she obeyed me.
So, there were perks to having a girl be submissive.
The blood splattered on her face, and she froze again.
Goddammit. “Take his gun!” I yelled as his body fell.
The next guy ran in, and before he could put the gun to her head, I shot him.
He fell on top of the growing pile of eliminated pieces of shit.
Lucky shot! I hit his head.
“Good job, sweetie!” Daddy used to compliment me like that when I would get A’s on tests or tell him the scientific names of body parts.
“More, Daddy, more!” I yelled, and giggled, just like when he used to push me in the swings in the backyard.
For a few minutes, we got into a pretty good rhythm, and either she stabbed them, or I shot.
It was all fun until I ran out of bullets.
She screamed as they dragged her out of the room.
A sharp searing pain exploded right under my right shoulder.
The hot, ripping pain stole my breath before I realized what it was.
When I placed my hand over it to massage it, I felt the warm wetness and saw the new layer of bright red.
It’s going to be over soon. Clarity swept into every corner of my mind. There had been so much I wanted to do with my life in this gorgeous world.
Then the memories of him popped in chaotically, just like I’d loved my Killian.
“Killian …” I sobbed, remembering the many times I looked at his face up close, searching for new freckles as if each meant the birth of a new galaxy.
It played like a movie, he was right in front of me, smiling at the same age I last saw him. “Killian?”
He chuckled. “This is good, my beautiful angel. It’s good.”
“It hurts …”
He cupped my cheek. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“Let’s never part again,” he said.
“Never.”
All my energy melted away. The gun was too heavy, so I put it down beside me. It winked at me and asked, “We had some fun, didn’t we?” I nodded. At least six men dressed in black combat ran toward me. “And they say women are dramatic,” I whispered to the gun.
I’m already dying, gentlemen, no need for all the tactical gear. The world swirled. Please God, wherever you take me, please let me see him just this one time. Please let me see my Killian.