Chapter 13 #2
"I don't think I'm better than everyone," I interrupt.
"Just better than you. And that's not saying much.
You're a roach. Actually, scratch that. You're not even a cockroach.
Those fuckers survive nuclear fallout. You?
" I gesture at him with my water bottle.
"You don't have that much luck or that many lives. "
"What are you waiting for, Blackwood?" he shouts, spittle flying from his lips as he thrashes against his restraints. "Just hit me and fucking beat my ass and be done with it, you fucking Hannibal Lecter ass sick fuck!"
I laugh at that, genuinely amused. "Hannibal Lecter? I'm flattered, but I won’t be consuming any of your flesh. No, thanks."
I stand up from the examination table, crushing the empty water bottle in my fist.
"You know what, Justin? I just remembered something." I circle behind his chair, placing my hands on his shoulders and leaning down to speak directly into his ear. "Remember how I said you wouldn't like what happens if you called my north star a foul ass name again?"
He flinches as my breath hits his ear. I straighten up and walk around to face him, laughing quietly.
"Well, you're about to find out because I'm finally ready."
His eyes widen as I approach, knife in hand. I press the tip of the blade against his lower lip, just enough to dimple the flesh without breaking skin.
"Open wide, garbage boy."
When he clamps his mouth shut, I press harder until a bead of blood appears. His lips part on a gasp, and I wedge the flat of the blade between his teeth, forcing his jaw open.
"That's it. Good dog."
With my free hand, I unzip my jeans. His eyes bulge as he realizes what's happening.
"You wanted to have a foul mouth, right? Always talking shit, spewing filth about my girl." I pull my dick out and aim it right at his gaping mouth. "So now you get to really be filled with filth."
The first stream hits the back of his throat, and he gags immediately, trying to scream but choking instead. Piss splashes over his face, into his nose, down his chin and onto his preppy little polo shirt.
"Drink it, you pathetic fucking worm," I growl, directing the stream back into his mouth. "This is what you are—a fucking toilet. Not even good enough to be a urinal cake."
Tears stream down his face, mixing with my piss and the blood from his cut cheek. He's sobbing now, making these broken little animal sounds that only fuel my rage.
When I'm done, I tuck myself away and grab a dirty rag from the workbench. I shove it into his mouth, gagging him properly while he coughs and retches.
"Look at you, sitting there covered in piss like the worthless fuck you are." I circle him again, admiring my handiwork. "Not so tough now, are you? Not so fucking mouthy when you're the one being degraded."
I rip the rag out of his mouth, and he immediately vomits down his front, heaving and spitting.
"Please," he begs between retches. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
"Sorry?" I laugh, circling behind him. "You think 'sorry' fixes what you did to her? You think 'sorry' erases the bruises, the fear, the fucking violation? Sorry doesn’t mean shit."
I select a bone saw; the teeth gleaming dully under the harsh light. "You know what these are?" I tap the blade against his trembling hands. "These are the hands that hurt her. These hands touched what's mine."
Justin's eyes bulge, realization dawning through his piss-soaked, vomit-covered stupor. "No, no, please—I swear I'll never—"
"Shhh," I whisper, pressing the saw against the delicate skin of his wrist. "This is gonna hurt. A lot, but I want you to remember something while you scream: she begged you to stop too."
I make the first cut slow, deliberate. The serrated teeth bite into his flesh, and his scream tears through the cabin, bouncing off concrete walls. Blood spurts, hot and thick, splattering my face, my chest. I don't flinch nor do I stop.
"These hands," I grunt, sawing harder as he thrashes, "grabbed her." The blade hits bone with a sickening scrape. "These hands bruised her." I push through, feeling the resistance give way as I sever tendons, muscle, finally bone.
His first hand drops to the floor with a wet thud. The sound is fucking beautiful.
His screams have turned to gurgles now, shock setting in as blood pumps from the stump. I quickly cauterize it with a blowtorch, the smell of burning flesh filling the room. Can't have him bleeding out before I'm done.
"One down," I pant, moving to his other side.
This time I work faster, more efficiently. The second hand joins the first on the concrete, fingers still twitching. Justin's head lolls forward, consciousness slipping away as his body tries to shut down from the trauma.
"No, you don't," I slap his face hard, jolting him back. "Stay with me, garbage boy. We're just getting started."
I cauterize the second stump, admiring my work. He's barely there now, eyes unfocused, breathing shallow. His screams have faded to whimpers, his throat too raw to produce anything louder.
His lips move, but no sound comes out.
"Once, I promised I'd peel your face off so thoroughly your mother wouldn't be able to identify your body." I trace the contour of his cheek with my blade. "So let's do that, m'kay?"
I start at his hairline, making a careful incision. His body jerks weakly, but there's no fight left. The skin separates from muscle with a wet, sucking sound as I work the knife.
His nose, his cheeks, his forehead—I take it all in one clean piece like I'm skinning a fucking deer. The wet slap of his face hitting the concrete is almost poetic.
"Look at me," I command, though there's not much left to look with. "I want you to see who's killing you."
His exposed muscles twitch, trying to form expressions that aren't possible anymore. I position the blade right over his heart, feeling for the space between his ribs.
"For Reese," I whisper, and drive the knife in with all my strength.
The blade slides home, puncturing straight through his heart with a wet, sucking sound. His body convulses once, twice—then goes completely still as blood bubbles around the hilt.
At that exact moment, the door fucking explodes inward, wood splintering as a boot connects with it.