Chapter 25 #3
Ethan moves forward slowly, picking up a knife from the table near the wall.
His hands are steady, and his expression focused.
When he makes his first cut, which is a long, deliberate slice across Vincent's forearm, I watch as his breathing changes. Deepening but relaxed. He's enjoying this. After he pulls the knife away, he runs his index finger into the wound, spreading the blood over Vincent’s skin, watching it like it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
I smile internally as I know he won’t be able to hold back any longer, now he has the taste.
Too bad for Sarah, as I’m sure she will be the first to feel the experimental side of Ethan’s new found love of blood and torture.
“Ethan, is that necessary? So gross, man,” Marcus complains and Ethan turns his head to smile at him.
“What? You don’t want to join in?” Ethan asks him and Marcus turns his nose up.
“Do I want to play with someone’s blood like I’m a child using finger paints? No…no thanks. I prefer the old style kills, not this fucked up shit. I don’t know how you can touch the stuff like that.”
“You sound like the one with a problem,” Lev says, with a look at confusion over Marcus’ comment.
“No, I’m really not as I’m not crazy,” Marcus says.
“Stop lying, you can be sadistic, I’ve seen it before,” Ethan says as he wipes his hand on Vincent’s shoulder and walks back over to stand next to Marcus.
“Normal sadistic. Not psycho sadistic, it’s not the same.”
The room goes silent again, except for a few sniffles from Vincent before Ivan strikes again with the Shredder, this time along Vincent's thigh.
The spikes catch and tear, leaving deep gouges that bleed profusely.
Vincent's screams have become hoarse, desperate pleas for mercy that none of us will grant.
"He's crying," Ivan observes, his voice distant, detached from the moment. "Tyler cried too in the ambulance. I heard him."
Another strike. Another scream.
I watch with interest, noting the progression of Vincent's deterioration. The way his body is shutting down from shock and blood loss as his pleas become incoherent. There is a change to the smell of the room, the pungent aroma of blood and sweat.
Lev continues filming, his expression impassive.
I would say he is starting to get bored and I won’t lie, I am too.
I need to get back to Chase. I look around at all of us, predators in a concrete room, united by savagery and mutual understanding.
Ivan, consumed by possessive rage. Ethan, finally feeding the beast he's kept caged.
Lev, watching everything with cold focus, and me, observing it all with a detached appreciation.
Evil men doing evil things, and none of us feel remorse.
Ivan delivers the final blow, driving the Shredder directly into Vincent's throat. Blood sprays on the concrete floor, and Vincent's body convulses once before going still.
Silence.
Ivan stands there, breathing heavily, looking like he has bathed in a vat of blood. His eyes are wild, unfocused. His tongue piercing glints in light as he licks his lips in satisfaction. He's somewhere else, lost in the madness of what he's done, the adrenaline high of avenging Tyler.
Slowly, he comes back as his breathing steadies. His eyes becoming clear.
"It's done," he says quietly, looking over at me.
"Yes," I agree.
Lev stops recording and reviews the footage briefly. "Dima will be pleased. This sends the right message."
"Forward it to me," I say.
He glances up. "If you wanted your own copy, you should’ve filmed it yourself."
"Just send it to me you jealous fuckface."
“Jealous? Me? Fuck off.”
“It’s okay if you want to be like me, you know,” I say, purposefully wanting to rile this fucker up. I’m sure he is trying to growl at me as he frowns.
“In your fucking dreams you arrogant asshole.”
“You mean in your dreams, you arrogant fuckface.”
“Oh my god, can you just be friends? You’re just being stubborn now,” Ivan says as he takes off his glove, cleaning himself up.
“He’s the one who started it!” Lev shouts and Marcus laughs.
“I love you guys, seriously love you. But I gotta get back upstairs, just let yourselves out and we will deal with the mess here,” Marcus says as he leaves with Ethan following him.
My phone pings and I look down to see a copy of the video on my phone from Lev.
“What does Chase want that for anyway? Didn’t think he liked shit like this, being a therapist,” Lev says, and I scoff before texting Chase I’m on my way back to him.
“It’s for his books, inspiration.”
“Inspiration? And here I thought he was a perfect civilian. I’m out,” Lev says, before he leaves the room where only me and Ivan remain with the dead body. Ivan smiles at me as he slowly approaches me, and my instinct is to run.
“Do not come near me, Ivan,” I warn, as that’s the look he gives me when he is about to cross boundaries by being tactile with me.
“I just want to thank you for coming, you didn’t have to, but you did it for me.”
“I did it for Chase, he asked me to come.”
Ivan moves closer to me and in all my life, he is the only person I fear, because one day I know he is going to catch me by surprise and try to hug me.
“You don’t have to say it, bestie. I know deep down you were here for me too.”
I roll my eyes and move fast out of the door before he can say anything else.
“Come on, don’t run,” he says from behind me, following closely. I swear the only reason he is still alive is because he is with Chase’s brother.
When we get into the main bar, the others are still there. Ivan goes to leave first, clearly wanting to get back to the hospital. Ethan follows behind him, his mask already sliding back into place. Lev stays behind, chatting to Marcus, and I leave without saying a word.
Outside, the night air is cold and crisp. Ivan leans against the car, smoking a cigarette with shaking hands, and I light my own, allowing the nicotine to relax my bones. Ethan stands nearby next to his car, quiet and thoughtful.
"Tyler will recover," I say to Ivan.
He nods. "I know."
"We should get back to the hospital,” I say as I throw my cigarette to the ground and grind it into the gravel with my boot.
“Thanks for your help tonight, Noah. Can I have just one hug? It would make me feel better,” he says, with his arms open and I flinch with discomfort.
“You have to always make it weird,” I complain as I move to get into the car, as Ivan chuckles.
“It will happen one day, bestie,” he says as he gets into the car. I can say with absolute certainty, it will never happen.
When we arrive at the hospital, Chase is awake, sitting in one of the hard chairs next to Tyler’s bed, scrolling through his phone.
He looks up as I enter, his eyes immediately find mine, relief washing over him.
He looks at Ivan who still has some blood on his clothing, then back to me as he stands to leave Ivan with Tyler.
"It's done?" he asks.
"It’s over now, baby."
"Is Ivan alright?"
"He’s fine, he did what he needed to do. Now he’s back to his normal annoying self."
I grab my phone and send Chase the video. “I got you something,” I say as his phone pings and he looks down at the message.
"For your books. We can call it evidence based data."
He opens the file without hesitation, watching the footage with total focus.
I see the moment his breathing changes and his hand flies to his mouth in shock, but then easies into a look of scrutiny.
Like he is assessing the movements and actions of the event.
When it ends, he clicks off his phone and looks at me.
"How did it feel?”
"I felt appreciation for Ivan's passion, but I did start to get bored halfway through."
Chase laughs and wraps his arms around my neck and I pull him closer to me, needing his touch.
“Only you could get bored. I think you need therapy,” he says, as he lightly kisses my lips, which is not enough.
"This is our life now, baby.”
“I love you so much, Noah.”
Then I kiss him the only way I know how. With a deep need to claim him in every way. He is my life, and I am his.