Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
THE TASKMASTER
Icould hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I watched him hold her, forcing her to stay still as he whispered hushed threats in her ear and pushed his body against her. But she was a little spitfire. A wild one who wouldn’t be tamed. She was fighting him with everything she had.
I stood watching them with a mix of anticipation and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Was it jealousy? Because I was starting to feel some kind of way about the fact that he had his hands on her.
She was my target, not his.
However, the feral, animalistic nature of what was happening in this alley, right before my eyes, helped to focus the ever-raging whirlwind of war and destruction that clouded my brain on a daily basis.
Violence helped me to focus. It gave me purpose.
It silenced the demons as I fed them another victim. Only this wasn’t my victim. Not yet.
She continued to use every ounce of strength she could muster to try and escape. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. There was a defiance laced with fear in her eyes as she gave muffled screams and thrashed against him.
I breathed deeper as I saw him push his leg between hers, forcing her legs open wider.
Then he began to unbuckle his belt. Her whimpers were desperate now as she realised what was about to happen to her.
And despite everything, I felt a scorch from the bile in my stomach burn a trail up my body and into my throat.
And my mind fought a war that I didn’t expect to wage tonight. ..
A calloused hand slapped over my mouth, wrenching me from my sleep as a gruff voice whispered, “Make a fucking noise and I’ll gut you right here in your bed.”
I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream. But in that moment, when fear is more than a word or a feeling, when it’s an all-consuming state of terror that renders you helpless, you do nothing.
At least, that’s what happened to me. There was no fight or flight.
There was only a desperate will for survival.
I was a little boy who discovered far too early on that life had nothing to offer him, only cruelty and pain.
The fleeting years of a mother’s gentle touch and kind words were soon stripped from my mind when they stripped me of my dignity.
“Do you understand?” he hissed as he pulled my limp, helpless body from my bed and held me in his arms.
I nodded, tears already soaking my cheeks. I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t make it through another night. Maybe it would be better if they killed me. Then I wouldn’t have to endure another night... of them.
He took me out of my room and carried me down the hall.
I didn’t thrash against him this time. I learned early on that it was worse for me if I did.
I whimpered as his sweaty hand smothered my face.
I didn’t scream or shout though. I’d tried that too, and everyone here ignored my cries.
I guess they were relieved it was happening to me, and not them.
No one cared. No one ever came to save me.
The only one who could save me from this hell was me.
I snapped back to reality, the sour taste of my past burning like fire in my mouth as rage exploded inside me. Abigail was fighting, but she wouldn’t win. In a few seconds, he’d get what he wanted. He might have to knock her unconscious to do it, but it was happening.
At least, that’s what he thought.
I was in the mood for a bit of fun. And I knew I could have a whole night of it with this guy. He was a prize that’d landed in my twisted little lap. She would have to wait. This had been her lucky night.
I took the balaclava from my pocket and pulled it over my head as I took long strides down the alley towards them. Not only would it help to hide my identity, but it would also cover my tattoos. I had some unique ones on my neck, and I didn’t want anything to give me away.
I reached where they were and grabbed the hood of his jacket, yanking him back and off of her. He wasn’t expecting me, and he stumbled to the floor, cursing, “Motherfucker,” as he scrambled on the ground, trying to regain his footing.
In that moment, she was panicked, staring at her attacker on the floor and then at me.
I must’ve looked like I’d come to take over the job with my black balaclava, gloved hands and menacing eyes.
She was stunned into a frozen state of confusion.
So I moved closer to her, slipped a discreet tracker into her jacket pocket and whispered, “Run.”
She didn’t need me to tell her twice. As he stood up and lurched towards me, she ran and didn’t look back.
And me? I took the syringe from my other pocket and charged towards him, saying, “Are you ready to play a game?” before I stabbed it into his neck, paralysing him as he lost consciousness.
This motherfucker had more than met his match.
I went nowhere without being prepared for any eventuality.
And my night had just got a whole lot more interesting.