13. Sid
SID
C ar lights are off, and white candles decorate the area as I sit on a red blanket covered in red and black roses. The flickering flames leave shadows dancing on the cement cylinder walls as Uncle Thomas brings the last item out for my audience. Abi.
Everything is set up, waiting for our guest of honor's arrival.
Thrown over his broad shoulders, her legs hang tied at the ankles and her body is limp.
We have replaced the chains from my last visitor to hooks.
Uncle Thomas hoists her up, throwing her shackled wrists on either side of the hook, holding her in place as her feet dangle.
He slaps her hard, only once, to wake her.
The crack of skin echoes, bringing a smile to my face. Today is a good day.
“Thank you,” is all I say as he walks back into the darkness.
He waves me off, “See you later,” and I know exactly what he is referencing. His vehicle starts, the engine purrs before roaring to life as he reverses swiftly away, lights still off to not ruin the moment.
Taking a long stem rose in between my fingers, the thorns are sharp as the pads of my fingers dance along the tip of one.
Abi’s eyes slowly open, dry coughs follow, then realization washes over her face.
Her jaw drops, the self-declared untouchable being has been touched and brought to me for her last day.
“Did you have fun playing your games?” I artfully ask, the question is calculated. Will the truth fly off her tongue or must I force it out of her?
Her voice is growly as she whimpers, “Water.”
Uh, absolutely not.
“Wrong answer. Try again, please.” Because I am not one to be rude, obviously.
Abi coughs once more. “Help.”
My nose turns. Gross. How pathetic.
Bringing the rose to my mouth, I stick my tongue out and press the sharp green thorn into it.
It stings, but only for a brief moment, then all I feel is warmth running down my chin.
I leave my tongue hanging and as I slowly rise to my feet on the soft blanket, blood begins to trickle down my cleavage and stains the white lace. It’s perfect.
Dropping the rose, it falls next to me as I step forward. Taking the steel folding ladder, which is leaning against the cement wall, I unfold it and place it near the pest, because that is what she is now, a no name, worthless pest.
Carefully my toes curl around each cool step, her eyes watch my every move and I push my fang into the hole on my tongue to ensure my blood is still freely flowing. When I reach the top step, allowing me to look down on her, the dripping blood falls into her open, dry mouth.
She closes it promptly,
“Good girl, drink it up.” Because this is all the mercy she is going to get from me.
Choking, the pest spits it out, and it splatters on my lace dress. How fucking rude.
Stepping down swiftly, I throw the ladder off to the side, and it hits the rocks, crashing loudly in our ears.
“I try to help and that’s the thanks I get?” I am disgusted, but not surprised. Ungrateful bitch.
“Did you think I would never find out? Did you have fun playing your fucking games?” I ask rhetorically, because if she answers she is dumber than I thought.
“I hated you the entire fucking time,” Pest speaks like her words will sting. They don’t. I’m rid of her evil and I welcome all the fun we are about to have together.
Licking my lips, I allow the blood coating my tongue to decorate my face, before responding to her ridiculous statement. Rolling my eyes, I clarify, “No, silly, I mean framing my brother.”
My declaration silences her gagging and coughing.
“Rogers sees all evil. And he likes sharing his visions with me.” Walking up to her, my feet pad against the cool rubble.
Gripping her jaw with my fingers, I press my sharp nails into her skin.
“And you are one evil fucking bitch.” As predicted, she wastes no time spitting on my face.
Her dramatics are petty and pathetic, whereas mine are exciting and fun.
Annoyed, I press my nails harder, piercing her skin, but I don’t stop. I push harder, breaching her cheek deeper. Wetness collects on my hand from her tears, loud whimpers of distress follow, and that’s when I realize I forgot to put on my music to tune this annoyance out.
I penetrate her mouth then quickly pull my nail out before she can bite me, the catty cunt.
Stepping back, I continue, “The notes were clever. I have to admit you had me and my Papa fooled. The timing was impeccable, you knew my brother was acting out more against my dad and took advantage. Well fucking played. And taking the last pest from my tunnel, leaving pieces around Papa’s yard for my pigs.
Clever, but telling. Because the one thing you didn’t take into account was Rogers.
He has impeccable security in place for when, at times, I fail to maintain mine, which you also knew.
You knew I couldn’t be bothered to fix my property’s cameras, but you didn’t know others would have my back.
Amateur.” When he showed me the footage, it all made sense, how she has full fucking access to the compound and not once did I even suspect her.
Her response fascinates me. “I don’t fucking care.
It worked. Your brother is a dead man walking.
Daddy thinks he has been a very bad, bad boy, doesn’t he?
” I suspected she would be disappointed in her flawed plan and being found out, but she’s pleased, gloating, and sadly she’s not wrong. Interesting .
I sense she may have a few more surprises up her sleeve. Typically, they beg for help, apologize, and cry at this point. But not her. Interesting, indeed. What more do you have to share with the class?
“You are so fucking stupid.” Her voice is hoarse as blood continues to drip out of her mouth, and with a sadistic smile, she continues, “She screamed as we burned her wounds. Tash was alive when we cut that cross into her stomach. Passed out just as we finished cauterizing the wounds. What a shame, she missed her own death.” This bitch.
“And her brand, for The Devil’s Society?” I question.
She chuckles, throwing her head back. “Alive. Made her watch by tilting her head up. I understand why you like doing this shit so much.”
Cutting her off, I say, “No you don’t get to relate to me, so nice fucking try.” There is one thing I need to know, though, before I begin playing. “Why?”
Coughing more, Pest shakes her head with a smug look on her face that I want to chop off. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
My head tilts. Perhaps not, please tell me more , I talk to myself, not audibly responding to her question. I wait in silence, patiently.
Closing her mouth, she swallows some of the thick blood building in her mouth. Exhaling heavily, she pushes some of it out of her nostrils, laughing like a hyena. “I wanted to destroy you. Your family and the fucking society. Burn you from the inside out, and I have. You’re out hunting each other.”
Walking to the table behind me, where my tools are beautifully displayed, I pick up my bone saw. This bitch is getting annoying with her cryptic messages.
“This was my mother’s,” I explain, holding it out in front of me. “A prized possession from the archives. And I cannot wait to use it on you.” I bounce with glee on the balls of my feet.
Looking back up, I focus in on her shoulders. At any moment, they will exhaust from being hung in this position and pop right out of her sockets. I would rather draw out that pain for her and go straight for her feet, but that would be too easy.
Perhaps a Father's Day gift is in order, her lips.
Blowing out a sigh of frustration, because why did I have to throw my ladder, but swallowing my pride, I skip to where it landed and fetch it back, setting it up next to my pest. If her rambles don’t turn into useful information, I am done listening to her nonsense.
Reaching forward, I am about to grip her lips together and use this giant saw for fun on something so dainty, but she stops me.
Her muffled words take a moment to register, and my head turns, taken aback by it all.
My saw drops to the ground. “Dalton was my dad.” I release her mouth and she continues, smiling, “I waited and waited and finally got the fucking revenge my family deserves. I broke you. I broke your dad, brother, and made your grandfather even doubt his blood. I. Fucking. Won.”
My heart drops and my mind races. What the fuck?
How? Does Dad know? There’s no way, because he would have kept an eye on them and handled it as necessary. This changes everything, but at the same time perhaps nothing at all, if she is unable to live to tell the tale.
Cutting off my rampant thoughts, her annoying voice penetrates my ears, catching my attention once more.
“Mom was a random hookup after he took over as king of The Exiled, the only group I recognize. She found out about her pregnancy after your family fucking slaughtered him. Then hung him from the church, massacred, for days on display,” she screams with hate.
Oh, the bitch is mad.
My brows rise and I whistle. Yikes.
I change direction, ripping her shirt off with my bare hands, exposing her bare breasts, where her brand is. Rushing down the ladder, I grab my handheld kitchen torch, in honor of my brother, and race back to her. Flicking it on, I press hard on the release button and boil her skin.
How dare she wear our brand, our mark, our legacy.
Pest screams and a bit of blood from her mouth lands on my hands, but it’s drying now. What a shame.