38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Beau Drewitt
Welcome To The Shit Show
Benny Meyer. The most ignorant nuisance to ever be created. The unfortunate product of procreation since his mother lacks the ability to swallow.
Scum. The reason for my anger and frustration.
The boy behind the cause of my beautiful girl’s soon-to-be realized trauma.
Not a man because a true man would never.
A boy though, would. He submitted Elowen to the worst possible torture.
The thoughts that went through her mind as he touched her were unspeakable.
It almost made me want to shower them off myself.
I would wear any burden for her, though.
The only justice is to bleed him of every drop of blood in his fucking body and make him beg for mercy before meeting his demise. Then, and only then, can I guarantee that he knows the true consequence of his actions.
The police won’t bring justice. Mortal government is useless.
Predators walk free everyday while drug charges get life.
I’ve watched for centuries as history repeats itself.
The only way to ensure her protection is to take care of the problem myself.
There is no boundary for me, for what I won’t do, when it comes to Elowen Briar.
I figured out Benny’s address easily. I pulled the information from the moment he touched her. He thought he could lay a hand on her and walk away scathe free. It has taken me less than five minutes to track him down.
I drop Elowen off at home, gifting her the locket I had intended to give her when I met her this afternoon before properly asking her out, and tell her to call Imani to keep her company while I get her some food. She does as she’s told. My sweet, good girl.
I can feel the heat of my anger coiling in my chest as I approach the neighborhood.
911 West Glen Court in Darkwater. Benny, I’m home!
His house is modest, ugly in its blandness, trying to pass as ordinary.
The kind of place that screams mediocrity even from the curb, but it suits him.
I can smell his stench from outside of his house.
It’s strong and putrid from even one hundred feet away.
I park a block away and watch, silent, measuring my thoughts, every muscle taut.
I’ve rehearsed this moment a dozen times on the drive over.
I won’t let him escape. I’m the predator.
He’s the prey. I place my double knife sheath on my hip, buttoning it in place.
This encounter will end in payment and justice for Elowen Briar and any other women he’s ever laid eyes on.
I will make sure the last fleeting thought through his sick skull is the decision to regret the harm he ensued.
You don’t hurt women and sure as fuck don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you. Elowen Briar is mine.
I stop for a moment to focus all of my energy into shrouding the house to avoid further issues.
I imagine the perimeter of the home and outline the edges in my mind.
When the image vanishes from my mind, I know I’m good to proceed.
No noise complaints. No sudden visitors.
No mortal law. Just Benny, his screams, and I left to our lonesome.
The windows are dark, shrouded with torn curtains and seemingly cardboard.
Probably watching television or scrolling through his phone like the coward he is, so I make my move.
Silent steps, shadows covering my approach.
My hand rests against one of the knives at my hip, a reminder that I’m prepared to deliver.
I thrive on precision, on control. Pain is my language, and tonight, he will understand it fluently. I will it to be done.
The moments quickly fleeting by, I reach for the door.
My reflection stares back at me for a second, and I remind myself of what is at stake.
This is for her. For Elowen. The rage in me could never be deemed as selfish.
It’s necessary. Not that anything can change my mind now.
I decided the second I approached him in the speakeasy that day that his life did not matter. I should’ve killed him then.
A quiet finality to my decision, a swift motion, and I’m inside of Benny Meyer’s humble abode.
The stench of cheap beer and neglect hit me immediately.
The smell of a boy who has never faced consequences.
I stalk him like a predator, listening for any hint of movement, any sign that he might have realized what is coming.
Using the shadows of the room to my advantage, my entrance is flawless. Perks of being an undead nightmare.
There he is, in the living room, unaware, smug, thinking he’s untouchable.
Except, I find joy in the bloodied rags that lay around his body.
The multiple bags of vegetables gone warm tossed to his feet and smeared with bodily fluid.
I catch his reflection in the glass pane of a nearby piece of decor.
I contoured his nose in an upwards direction, unlike its original state.
His cheeks are swollen with blood bruises.
I move faster than his mind can catch up with.
A single strike, precise, brutal, and he crumples from the couch into the floor, screaming in agony.
Pain erupts from his body as I methodically break him down.
Every strike, every controlled blow, carrying the message: you will never touch anyone again.
When he begins to crawl, I drag him by the collar against the hardwood back to me.
I toss him over to face me. He will remember my haunting visage beyond the grave.
“Was it fun? Coming home and kicking back on the couch believing I wouldn’t be back for you?
” I snicker at him. He cries for help at the top of his lungs as his voice cracks.
I cement my fingers across his throat and lift him just enough off the ground to send his head crashing back down when I release.
“Shed tears. Cry. Beg. Plead for me. Isn’t that what you like?
How does it feel, Benny?” I smell the aromatic fear coming from his body as he wails.
I rip open his shirt and trace my Nakiri knife along his abdomen.
Carefully nicking the last spots where his hands touched Elowen.
“Please. God. Stop. Don’t kill me.” I throw my head back.
“My, my, my, pretty boy. You sound so pathetic when you beg. You’re ruining all of my fun.
I need real fear. I need to see it. All.
Over. Your. Body.” I lay the dull side of the knife across his chest as I lean in and sniff his neck.
“You aren’t scared of me enough. For a human headache, you don’t use that brain very much.
Do you really think I won’t kill you?” I stay right in front of his face, nearly nose to nose.
“I found your address with ease. I packed garbage bags, ammonia, and a hacksaw. A bag full of instruments to tear you limb from limb and make you disappear without a trace. That is, if my friends leave anything to discard. I would like for your swift end to be by my hands, but I won’t drain you dry.
I’ll leave most of your blood on the floor.
The rest can stay in your veins for them.
” I breathe in his stench and savor how frightened he is now.
“You are fucking crazy! Get out of here, you sick freak. My parents’ll know you did this. They’ll come after your ass.” He spits up at me.
“You see, you touched my wife. My mate. Not only did you touch her, but you did it without her consent, my friend. Now, you have to die. A painfully, slow, agonizing death.” I pin him back down with my hand as I allow the knife to drag across the first few layers of skin on his chest. My weapon slices through with ease as my victim cries.
Really cries. This moment. She doesn’t need this to recover, but I do.
I owe her this. Benny’s head turns to the right and he goes limp under me.
“Did you fucking pass out? Did you—come on?” I remove my blade from his chest, sheathing it. I use my free hand to back-hand him across the face.
He comes back with a blood-curdling scream and I shove a nearby rag from the coffee table into his mouth to gag him.
“Quiet. It’s time to watch.” I grab the recliner nearest to us and place Benny in it, as his writhes underneath my grasp.
Still gagged, I wrap my belt around his hands.
My sheath is disconnected and lying next to me now.
I enter his thoughts. He thinks of how remorseful he is.
How he wished he hadn't taken the opportunity.
“What opportunity? Did somebody put you up to this?” I delve into his mind and there isn’t a clear motive. His thoughts are scrambled and I can’t find a way through. Someone told him to hurt Elowen. I pull the rag from his mouth and begin to question him, “Who told you to hurt her?”
He wails, tears falling from his already-bruising eyes.
“Nobody, man. I swear. I went on my own. I’ve been watching her.
Nobody put me up to anything. I just wanted to fuck her, I swear.
You have to believe me.” I punch him, quieting him once more.
Fuck her? He genuinely thinks that Elowen would’ve wanted that?
“In case your imbecile brain needs reminded, fucking requires consent. You assaulted her, you sick fuck.” I spit on him.
“Now, stay still.” I lean down to his feet, placing one of his ankles in the crevice of my arm to lock in place and grab the other ankle.
I take my time, cutting off every single one of his toes, allowing him to settle in his misery.