Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
I’m hiding in the back of the bar, careful to conceal myself from Paul’s view.
He slowly starts to stir, waking up from the slumber.
He was unconscious for a couple of hours, I guess the pain truly got to him.
Now, it’s almost four in the morning, the sun will start to rise soon. This needs to happen before dawn.
He groans, and on an instinct, lifts his hand up to run it over his face.
His eyes are still closed, and it’s only for a couple of moments before everything clicks in his brain.
He freezes, then peels his eyes open, glancing around.
The chains no longer hold him hostage, they’re on the floor right next to him.
He turns around in the chair, looking for me.
There’s panic in his expression, his face making me chuckle silently.
He’s terrified. He knows this is one of my games that I prepared just for him, he just doesn’t know what he should do. Knowing him, and well, just about anyone in a situation like this, the answer is very simple.
I left the door wide open for him, too.
He glances down at his arm, noticing the small gauze. While he was busy sleeping, I drew some of his blood. Just enough to have it in a glass container, and enough for Kaya to give to Arlo. He knows what he needs to do with it.
But just when I think he might not do as I want him to, he pleasantly surprises me. He scrambles to his feet, trying to pull his pants up. He hisses in pain when the open wound on his penis touches his soiled underwear, but somehow, he pushes through the pain, and immediately heads to the door.
His footing is wobbly, and he has to hold himself by the doorframe to prevent himself from falling. He sucks in a sharp breath, and without looking back, he leaves.
That’s when I start to move.
I have a gun with a single bullet inside, keeping it hidden from view. Paul has two options here — either go to Time Square and hope someone will help him, or try to find his way to wherever it was he was hiding before I got to him.
The clear option here is the first one, and when I see him take the left turn, leading him toward Time Square, I grin to myself. I keep a distance between us, enough that I can run and catch him if needed, but still enough that he doesn’t realize I’m here.
He’s stumbling over his feet, cussing and talking to himself. His body in a state of constant trembling, the trauma it’s suffered enough to slow him down. He’s gasping for air, having to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath.
My heart starts to beat faster inside of my chest when he reaches the destination. Despite it being so late, it’s crowded. After all, it’s one of the most crowded places in the city, and the perfect one for his death.
I pick up my pace, walking quicker to catch up with him. My feet carry me toward my desired target all on their own, squeezing myself past the people that fill the space. He’s right in the middle of the street when I decide it’s fucking show time.
My hand reaches for the collar of his shirt, yanking him back. He’s taller, and usually, he’d be stronger, but the shit I put him through has ensured he lacks the strength.
Paul gasps, then turns around. When he spots me, his face pales, resembling a sheet of paper. His eyes are as wide as saucers, and nothing but fear lingers inside of those eyes that caused me nightmares.
“On your fucking knees.”
My voice is low, but the threat is clear. He tries to speak, but when I reach for his throat, forcing him to his knees, he understands that this is his last stop. There’s nothing he can do now.
Paul Simmons is on his knees before me, looking up at me with a look of pure terror. His jaw is trembling, and with my left hand, I grip it tightly, forcing his eyes to remain on mine.
“This is it, Paul,” I murmur. The sound of the busy street doesn’t affect his ability to hear me — I know for a fact he can hear every single word that’s leaving my mouth. “These are your last moments.”
He tries to wiggle himself out of my grip, but I dig my nails into his flesh, watching him flinch. I keep a tight hold on him, slowly pulling the gun out from my hoodie pocket. The barrel touches his forehead, and I keep it there, not quite ready yet to pull the trigger.
“Please,” he croaks out, as the tears start falling from his eyes, they irk me.
“Please?” I repeat with a small snarl. “What about all the times I’ve begged you to stop, huh?
” I yank him even closer. My breath fans his face as I lean in, staring right into his eyes.
“What about every time I have pleaded for you to stop? When I was bleeding and in so much fucking pain, wishing it would all be over? What about when I begged you not to be so rough with me, because you fucking knew painful it was. What about when I was begging you through tears to just kill me, so it would all be over? What did I get? Ah, that’s right.
You would slap me, force something in my mouth to keep me quiet and shove my face into the pillow, while telling me how much I deserved it all. ”
The words fall from my lips and the hurt from all those years comes back. It’s something I’ll never forget, the day he touched me for the first time, the day he beat me until I was black and blue, and even knocked my tooth out for screaming too loudly.
My body starts trembling with rage that I finally have an outlet for.
By now, we’ve grabbed the attention of a couple of people, but no one dares to approach and try to put an end to it.
After all, I’m holding a gun pressed to his forehead, and why would anyone potentially get themselves hurt to save a pig like Paul?
“You don’t get to beg me,” I scream, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“You don’t get to ask for anything, Paul.
You’re about to fucking die, here, in front of everyone.
It’s the cheapest price you can pay for everything that you’ve done to me.
Tonight, I’m sending you right to Hell. You can wait for me there, and I promise you, one day, I’ll come for you again.
Again and again, in every single lifetime, I’ll be the ghost that lingers above you, and every time you think you have escaped, I’ll be there to kill you.
You ruined my childhood, you ruined my entire life.
This is just a small portion of what you truly deserve, you fucking bastard. ”
Through my tears, I glance up. Every single fucking billboard has small butterflies. My heart skips a beat, and when my phone rings, I know the time has come. Slowly, I drag my eyes back to Paul, glaring at him. My grip on his jaw tightens, and I lean in, whispering in his ear.
“Rot in hell, bastard.”
I pull back enough to look at him. His eyes hold fear like I’ve never seen before, and a grin spreads all across my face. My body shudders with excitement, I don’t allow him to utter a single word.
I simply pull the trigger.
I watch as the life drains out of his body, his eyes roll to the back of his head. The blood splatters all over my face and palm, and I blink as a couple of drops land on my face, dripping into my eyes.
My breathing is heavy and I can’t help but stare at Paul. His face still holds that immense amount of fear, and it’s forever etched into his expression. The last thing he saw before he died was me.
It was fucking me.
My hand drops from his jaw, and his body slumps to the ground, the sound of it echoing and ringing in my ears. I lower the gun, keeping it close to my side as I tower over his dead body, letting all my anger die with him.
The years of pent up rage slowly start leaving my body, and when I close my eyes, I can visualize the weight being lifted off my shoulders. All the years I spent hating myself, all the time I wished I could disappear — it’s time I finally put it all behind me.
A sense of pure happiness overwhelms me, and I can’t help but cry out. I try to take a deep breath, but the motion itself is shaky, my hands trembling. Everyone’s eyes are on me, and within the next two minutes, everything will finally come to the place I need it to.
As of right now they’re all gone, every single person who hurt me, is gone.
The next moment, the chatter of people and the accusatory fingers, all the cameras pointing at me starts to feel overwhelming. The judgement is evident in their eyes, though some definitely have a curious look on their faces, as if this is the new, juicy gossip for them to spread around.
Just as the panic starts to rise, every single light in this street suddenly shuts off.
It’s pitch black, and the chaos that ensues is immediate. Screams, and people trying to scramble around, to leave or use their phones to shine some lighting onto the street is all I can hear.
That is, until I feel his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back, his scent engulfing my senses.
“I’m so proud of you, Butterfly.”