CHAPTER SEVEN
He passed out shortly after, and no point playing with someone who isn’t conscious. Where is the fun in that? I watch his wounds for the longest time until they stop bleeding and the blood dries where it has run down his skin. I lean forward and trace a finger along one of the bloody lines, and then touch the nail embedded in his palm. He stirs slightly but is still passed out.
I grab the hammer and aim it carefully, throwing my weight behind it as I strike his palm.
His eyes fly open, and he screams in pain.
I smile and slide the hammer up his arm and down his chest. “Did you know with the right amount of force, you can break someone’s ribs without killing them?”
“No… please… I won’t tell anyone. Please, just let me go.”
“I wonder if your parents would care enough to look for you after what you did,” I muse, my eyes meeting his. I see the tears threatening to start again and soon enough, they do. I lean over and kiss his cheek, tasting the salty tear.
Then I move away, draw my arm back and strike his right-side ribs with a hammer. There’s an ungodly crunching sound, and he’s too breathless to scream. He garbles out a sound, something between a moan and a scream, and sobs. Oh, his sobs fill me with delight as I go around the bed to his left side. He tries to angle away from me.
“Please, I didn’t understand what the fuck I was doing. I just felt bad,” he sobs out.
“You should feel bad,” I say calmly. “You murdered your sister.” I swing the hammer, and it connects with his ribs at an angle. I feel them break under my swing and I grin as he screams. The screams hurt even more where his ribs are broken, so he quietens down to a whimper.
I take the hammer and set it back down neatly against the far wall, and pick up the pliers.
Who needs nails anyway?
I go to his feet first and grip his large toenail with the pliers.
“No… please…”
“You wanted this,” I remind him. “You asked me for this. But I’m feeling merciful. I will only do one foot tonight. Then we can take a break.”
I start to pull on the nail and he moans, biting down on his lip until he draws blood. It hurts to cry out; it hurts because I’m hurting his already damaged feet. The carpet grips dig in deeper as he moves his foot, trying to get away.
I watch as the nail slowly extracts itself from the nail bed. Blood starts trickling, then pouring out the wound from the sides. There’s a little give, and the nail starts to slide off. I deposit it on the floor beside me before I start on the next toe. Then the next, then the one after that. I’m on the pinky toe when I realize he’s passed out from the pain. Dammit. There’s no pleasure in that.
I decide to leave the pinky one for tomorrow night. He should experience everything firsthand.
He needs a higher pain tolerance.
Thus far, his pain tolerance has been lacking, but it will surely get better.
Thoughts run through my mind as I clean up. I wash up in the bathroom before I grab my coat and purse, and shut the door behind me.
There’s no one in sight, but I can hear cries coming from down the hallway as I leave. I go downstairs and exit, making my way to my car. This is a sanctuary. A place of worship. A place where the devil comes to make his deals.
I am that devil.
I think of some of the medieval ways of torturing people and wonder if there’s any I can implement. There’s a few I’ve been dying to try, but they’ll kill him too quickly.
I can’t have that.
His request was very specific.
I get home and sit behind the wheel on the driveway for a moment. The living room light is on, and I can see someone moving, someone too tall to be Shiloh.
Kerri.
Another night has passed. Perhaps Shiloh couldn’t do it because Kerri didn’t go to sleep. It is strange for her to be up so late.
That’s it. Shiloh didn’t get a chance, that is all. I sit out there until the light shuts off about a half hour later. When I’m sure Kerri’s gone to bed, I get out of the car and head in, hanging my coat and purse up before I go to my room. I strip the clothes off and take them to the hamper. Shit, I didn’t do the laundry.
I get out my sleepwear and take a long, hot shower, washing the smell of death from my body. When I’m done and dressed, I brush my teeth and then take the laundry hamper to the laundry room and set a load on. I’ll switch it to the dryer in the morning. It’s only for a few hours while I sleep.
I had promised myself no more long nights, but this week is going to defy that.
The boy wanted his dues, and I had agreed to deliver them.
I go to the bedroom and slip between the cool sheets. Resting back, I get as comfortable as I can, and shut my eyes. But sleep doesn’t come to me. Instead, my mind races with endless possibilities of what I can do to Boy. I sigh and turn over on my side, focusing instead on Shiloh. This just won’t do. She has clear instructions and I’m sure she can catch Kerri off guard. I don’t think she’s afraid of doing it. At least, I don’t want to think that.
After all, she is my daughter.