Chapter 13
There has been a shift in power or a minor release in its assertion, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
While I’m fully aware that Damiano is in charge of many things, including his emotions, in the last few days, he has been more relaxed and has allowed me more freedom. According to Gio, it was because we were seen at the funeral together, confirming our ties– Or even God himself heard the bathroom events.
But the most significant shift happened when we returned to the house after the funeral. I was prepared to spend the day alone and had thought I would do a couple of laps in the pool since I’d missed my morning run. Damiano had other plans, which included spending the rest of the day with me.
First, he had Viviana cook a special meal for the both of us and poured a new wine from his vineyard. We’d talked a little more and gotten past a few mental walls we hadn’t bothered to before. It felt like he was trying to date me. Or like we had gone on our first date, though we’d been at home. He’d somehow made me feel like I’d had all his attention, which was rare.
My attention was solely focused on revenge.
I had expected him to leave and go to work the next day, but he had stayed home. In his words, his work could be completed remotely, but he preferred to go into the office because it put him in the right head space– Whatever that is. Instead, he worked out with me, then took us out for a lavish breakfast before a couples massage. Once that was over, he took me to purchase more workout clothes and to the bookstore, where I got one book.
Of course, he had been adamant that I could purchase more than one, but I clarified that I only wanted one book at a time.
For the few hours we had spent together, Damiano made me feel like this could be more than a business exchange for life. As if we could enjoy more than fucking.
With my impeccable history of men who either were murdered, targeted, or tried to kill me, it felt refreshing. I felt safe for the first time in over a decade, which said a lot, yet it was also bad.
I can’t afford to feel safe.
Feeling safe is what gets people killed. Feeling safe means my guard is down, and I’m vulnerable to attacks.
It’s stupid, and I refuse to be stupid anymore.
Quiet, I watch Damiano stuff another shirt in his bag. Seated on the edge of the bed, the book I was reading when he walked into the room is neatly placed next to me. While I want to ask him all the questions that come to mind, I also revel in the idea that he will be gone.
In the last few weeks I’ve been here, I’ve walked around enough to recognize the weak spots in the cameras and gate outside. The guards at night seem to be the most relaxed, so getting past them will undoubtedly be the easiest. There’s nothing worse than guards who don’t complete the job or have become so comfortable that they skip routine.
But it’s for the best for me.
I watched them from the window at night when Damiano came home late. They never actually check the perimeter of the house or gate, relying on each other to complete the job. I’ve seen them watching television in the staff’s living quarters downstairs and even witnessed one sleeping.
Their lack of actually working and comfort can either end up working for me or being the death of me.
I’m anticipating either.
A throat clears, and I look up at Damiano, who is staring at me. He likely asked me a question, but I wasn’t paying attention.
Frowning in question, I nod my head at him. “What’d you say?”
He sighs, stuffing something else in his duffel bag, then briefly looks up at me. “I was saying that you don’t have to worry about anything. Marco and Viviana have everything under control. She has the dinner menu for the week, but you can change it as much as you want or don’t. Marco will get you regarding anything with the house, but he’s used to handling most affairs when I travel.”
I scoff, unamused. “Gives me plenty of time to play with myself.”
Another sigh escapes Damiano’s mouth, this one more exasperated than the last one. From where he’s at in the closet, his bag on the chaise, he stands up straight. “Why would you play with yourself?”
A shrug is my automatic response. “Boredom, horniness, clinginess. Missing the feel of your cock.”
He blows a raspberry. His brown eyes meet mine, then he moves from his chaise to his side of the closet. I watch him pull down a few dress shirts and suits. He closely examines them, then hangs them over the back of the chaise as he grabs a bag from below. I recognize it as a traveling garment bag.
“You sure that this is just a three day trip?”
I ask him.
He doesn't acknowledge me from where he’s at, and I think he didn’t hear me. After a moment, he looks in my direction. “It’s supposed to be.”
So vague. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?”
I chuckle. “Or should I just guess until you tell me it’s not my business?”
“It’s not your business.”
He doesn’t hesitate or hold his tongue. “But I’m meeting with more investors for a resort that we’re about to start construction on. Then I will be taking my uncle, the Don, to a cancer treatment hospital for The Families.”
My face must betray my disgust at the words The Families. I recall that in the past, Aldo mentioned that some places were considered neutral. Apparently, The Council got tired of fights, deaths, and police when families that hated each other met in public, so they established neutral grounds.
The penalty for breaking conduct in a friendly area without cause is exile or death.
“Do you need investors for your businesses?”
Damiano looks at me. His face portrays the annoyance he feels at my ignorant question. “Do I need investors? No. Will I accept them? Yes.”
I nod. It makes sense. At this point, I’m simply trying to carry any conversation with him. “Your uncle,”
I begin, “is his cancer terminal?”
I’m not sure why I’m asking all of these questions. It’s not as though I care immensely. I believe, overall, I’m curious. Aside from what I’ve read about Damiano, I don’t know much about him or his past.
Similar to how he knows nothing other than what he’s read about me.
“His local doctor believes that it is.”
“But you don’t?” I ask.
Damiano shakes his head slightly. “No. He beat it before, and he’ll beat it again.”
Even though his words say one thing, I see the reality on his face. He’s doing everything possible to ensure his uncle’s last days are comfortable. At the same time, he’s praying that he doesn’t pass away.
“Well,”
I decide to change the darkness of the conversation, “I want to go shopping, too.”
Damiano looks up at me briefly. “Shopping?”
His eyes scan the closet. “Don’t you have enough clothes?”
I do, but I need something else. I need an outfit that will help me blend into my next task. Something that will allow me to be seen but not noticed.
Instead of responding right away, I stand from the bed and walk to the closet. On my side, I pull a dress down. “What is this?”
“A dress.”
The short and abrupt answer is precisely what I expect. I chuckle. “Yes, but it’s a party dress.”
Damiano frowns. His brown eyes search around as if someone is going to come to his aid and tell him what my point is. “So, you don’t like the dress? You picked it.”
So handsome, yet so dense.
I smile, then turn and hang the dress back up. “I love the dress, but I’m not attending any parties soon. The rest of my clothes are the same. Pants suits, blazers, sequin dresses, sundresses. I would love some sweats, high socks, sneakers, and regular t-shirts.”
He scoffs. “As the next Don’s wife, you’re supposed to uphold the integrity of that position– Those clothes fit that image. If you want to wear sweats, wear mine in the room.”
I look at him and roll my eyes. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
His confusion at my easy submission is apparent.
I nod. “Fine. Can Marco go to the art store and buy me some supplies?”
That question seems to quell his confusion. Damiano turns back to his side and continues to pack. “Of course. You don’t have to ask for supplies. Give him the list, and he’ll get them.”
I mentally balk at the idea that I’m playing a volunteer shut-in. Before I had set my mind to getting revenge, I had loved being outside and nature. Nothing was more grounding than walking on grass barefoot or laying outside in the rain— Even simply sitting on the porch had been an experience I loved.
But I can explore Damiano’s grounds. He has a lot of land that is all maintained regularly. The only reason I don’t walk around freely is his constant reminder of the image I’m supposed to uphold. Being the intended wife of a future Don doesn’t mean I get to act batshit crazy whenever I want. The expectations from television and books are far different from the reality I thrust myself into. All of the rules and regulations are bullshit.
“Gonna need relaxed clothes to paint, Daddy,”
I tease him. “You don’t want me to get paint on your clothes, do you?”
Abruptly, Damiano turns to look at me. Before I can decipher what he’s thinking, he turns back around. “Fine, get you some clothes. Anything you want.”
I withhold my excitement. I’m glad, not because I can go shopping, but because wearing his clothes that aren’t casual would make me stand out too much. I need to look and feel like myself to do what I must.
Watching Damiano, I sit next to his duffel bag on the chaise. “How long do you think this is going to last?”
He stops digging in a drawer he’s moved to. “What, Bellissima?”
I shrug. “Isolation. I figured that with protection, I could get out more, but it feels useless. Since I’ve met you, every time I leave this house, I’ve been targeted.”
Silence engulfs us. From where I’m sitting, I look at Damiano and see he’s avoiding looking at me. The regret that resonates on his face hits me harder than I want it to. It makes me wonder if he regrets even entangling himself with me or if he wishes that he could allow me to be free.
Faces lie.
It’s true. The most angelic of faces had lied to me years ago.
When a shadow covers me, I look up. Crowding me, Damiano reaches down for me, and I put my hand in his hand so he can pull me up. When I press against him, his free hand lowers to my hip and caresses me through the heavy fabric of his shirt that I’m wearing. He doesn’t lean in to kiss me or try to initiate any contact other than what we’re maintaining right now.
He holds me close, which is more confusing than his distance most days.
“I know it may not seem like it, Echo, but I will always do my best to protect you.”
He lifts my chin higher to look me in the eyes. “Even if that means from yourself. I see you watching with a purpose. I know you plan to strike, whether I’m with you or not.”
He sighs. “I just need you to be patient with me. It may not look like I’m doing anything, but I am, okay?”
At his words, I nod. I don’t doubt that he’s doing anything, just that he’s not doing everything within his power. He still has to make appearances. He has an entire empire to consider.
Me?
I have myself. I’ve only had myself these past few years. So, if I have to use his protection as an alibi to cover my whereabouts, then I will.
Innocently, I step on my tip-toes and press my lips to his softly, then pull away. “Thank you.”
Against me, Damiano stiffens a little, uncertain how to take my appreciation. When I touch my lips to his a second time, he relaxes some. His hold on me eases, and he smiles, though it’s not earnest. “Let’s get ready for dinner. I’ll finish packing when we’re done.”
****
Strike while the iron is hot.
A quote that my father often told me growing up.
At that time, I hadn’t realized it meant I had an opportunity and needed to take it, but now I do.
With Damiano gone for two days, I spent my first day making sure that my observations of the night guards and the guards he had left me with were correct. When I asked Marco to get the supplies I needed, I knew that was my only chance. I knew it would take him some time to retrieve the items, and the store I had specifically sent him to was in the city. From what I remember, years ago, no store could compare to theirs. I wasn’t sure if that had changed, but Marco hadn’t thought twice about questioning me. He had nodded and left.
The guards that Damiano had left as well weren’t his normal ones, aside from Marco Jr., but since the restaurant, he had been weary of me, and I’d only seen him when I needed to go shopping for the necessary clothes. Avoiding the guards when they thought I’d gone to bed had been easier than taking a piss.
Another passage I’d discovered was one hidden in the library. Some tunnels ran throughout the house, exiting on the main road from one tunnel to an armory on the other.
I felt strange finding it. As if I’d unearthed a secret I wasn’t supposed to. Damiano had told me to explore and make myself at home, but I’m sure that wasn’t what he meant. I was aware that he could also see me, though. The strategically placed cameras throughout the tunnels showed he could watch and be alerted when someone entered. From that, I concluded that finding a way to loop them would take too long, and he would look for something like that– Maybe even station a guard there to be on the safe side.
So, it was no surprise when he’d texted me to smile for the camera with a winking emoji. I’d flipped the bird to the camera, then walked back to the library, resigned to my only way of getting out.
Which is how I’m here tonight.
All of the obstacles I’ve noted gave me all the reason to do what I need before he returns tomorrow. Hopefully, before anyone notices that I’m missing.
Casually, I take in my surroundings.
The strip club is packed. Music blares from all directions to a distracting point that almost coaxes me to move my body, but my eyes stay focused on one person…. The only person that has my interest.
Reynaldo sits across the club, surrounded by women who are paid merely to entertain him. He looks like a king among peasants, and even years later, he looks the same. Life has aged him very little, and I bask in that glory. Seeing no difference in him when I know that Gaia would be gorgeous if she had survived makes my task tonight all the easier. He still has the same slicked, greasy hairstyle and paunchy potbelly that extends way past his belt line. A few more grays scatter over his head and his thin lined mustache that looks crooked covers his cracked upper lip.
He looks exactly as you would imagine someone who does what he does.
Disgusting.
He’s more disgusting with the knowledge that he enjoys raping underage, unconsenting people. His desires sway to whoever is nearest to him when the need strikes, boys or girls.
When I was sixteen, I recall asking Aldo why Reynaldo was around when he wasn’t in the best shape for his position and was creepy. In my youth, I had imagined that all men needed to be in pristine shape to be in the mafia. I had worshiped Aldo’s taut physique and had obsessed over it. At that time, he’d ruined me for boys my age. I hadn’t wanted a sixteen year old boy who didn’t know how to pleasure me or was trying to figure things out. I didn’t want to fake anything with anyone, and Aldo had given that to me over and over, unrelentingly. He’d enjoyed ruining me– Making me beg him continuously to allow me to come, getting me to the precipice of it, then snatching it away. He’d loved breaking me mentally, physically, and emotionally to put me back together.
So, instead of answering my question about Reynaldo, Aldo kissed me into submission and told me not to worry about things that didn’t concern me.
I learned that day that Reynaldo had nothing special about him, but he was willing to do anything. It didn’t matter whose life he was disrupting so long as he got to dish out the pain.
Tonight, though, it’s his turn.
I’ve been watching him for as long as I can remember.
He always comes to this club, and it’s the only place where he’s vulnerable and alone. Tuesdays are also the days that he prefers to come here. It has nothing to do with the six-piece wing and french fry special they proudly display on their broken, half-illuminated sign outside. I’m positive that the fact it smells like a prostitute from the nineteenth century wiped her dirty ass on the establishment only beckons him more.
I’ve noticed that he has a favorite girl, and from the looks of things, she gets the majority of her tips on Tuesday. When I looked further into it, I noticed that she’s not only a dancer but also deals. Trafficking young, helpless girls that come in just sweetens the deal for her.
She’s a monster, similar to Reynaldo. Only she’s gorgeous, which makes her worse.
From where he’s sitting, I can see him pour a round of shots for the girls around him. The main stripper, Glimmer, sits on his lap. She gyrates to the song's beat, her hips moving hypnotically, making it easy to see why he would like her. All her movements are fluid. Her demeanor personifies how much she doesn’t care.
Once the song ends, they all take Reynaldo's celebratory shot, wincing at the liquor burn. A second later, Glimmer leans back, rhythmically moving against him. They speak to each other in hushed tones but give a business-like quality to other onlookers.
Bile burns in my throat as it fills with disgust. My brain tortures me by giving me unsolicited images of him forcing himself on Gaia. Her cries and screams that I’d been knocked out during and didn’t hear haunt me. I imagine her fighting him off to the best of her abilities and failing.
All the times I cared for her when she was younger come back to mind. How I helped her to stop crying because my mom was with a friend or my father was at work. The millions of times I soothed her to sleep until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. How I sang the same songs that my grandmother sang to me before she passed away.
Red blurs my vision along with the tears I withhold.
I should have been able to do something for her. I should have been able to protect her.
Our attack had solely been because of my mother’s affair with Tommaso. We shouldn’t have been punished for it.
Gaia shouldn’t have been punished.
I hated seeing Reynaldo alive at the funeral. I had wanted some visual evidence that he was living a shitty life or had some affliction that God had cast on him for all of his wrongdoing, but none had been evident.
Clearly, God wouldn’t pass judgment on him, so he had left it up to me.
“Want another one, babe?”
I look at the bartender, who hints at my empty drink. “Yeah.”
I see Reynaldo and the stripper stand. She takes his hand, and they walk towards the back. “Where are your bathrooms?”
I ask the bartender.
She points in the same direction that they’re walking in. “You here alone?”
I nod at her question. “A friend was supposed to meet me but backed out.”
She leans in on the bar, her eyes scan me over, and she smiles. Deep dimples expose themselves to illuminate her beautiful features. “Her loss, huh?”
At her flirtatious tone, I remember my appearance. Besides the cornrow wig I’m wearing to disguise my real hair, I have no makeup and baggy clothes. I’m undoubtedly giving the illusion that I’m attracted to women, and while I appreciate the female body, I haven’t found one interesting in years.
“We’ll see.”
My nonchalant response makes her laugh, and she places two shot glasses on the counter, filling them to the brim. “On me.”
I lift the glass by the rim, then make a cheering motion to her in the air. “Salud.”
The warm tequila goes down smoothly. I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth, waiting for a burn to happen, but it doesn’t. My eyes lift to meet the bartender, and she smiles. “That was good.”
“Best shit in here.”
She says proudly.
“‘Preciate you.”
It’s been long enough for Reynaldo to have gotten comfortable. I stand up. “I’ll be right back.”
I smile for good measure.
“I got you, babe.”
She winks at me.
Around me, time seems to suspend in slow motion. Cautiously, I make my way towards the back. I’m unsure what I’ll find Reynaldo doing, but I’m prepared for anything right now. The music in the club is still too loud for how many people are here, but it slows as I zone in on my duties. I count the doors as I pass them, aware of which belongs to Glimmer.
The hallway is busy. Everybody is so absorbed in their destination that they ignore me. They don’t notice that my shoulders look broader, even with my small stature, due to the padding I wear underneath my hoodie. They don’t see that my boots are too big or my clothes are too baggy.
They don’t care, which is exactly what I need.
I cover my face with my hoodie to prevent the cameras from seeing me, though I doubt they work. From the inside of my jeans, I casually take out my black gloves that I hid and pull them over my hands. Flexing my fingers, I stop in front of the door long enough to take a deep breath. Practiced, I grab a flesh mask from inside my hoodie that the bouncer was too shy to check because it was close to my chest and pull it over my face.
Ready?
Steady, my hand turns the knob, and it instantly gives in when I push the door open. My brain internally screams that I’m stepping into a trap. My body wants to abort and run back to the sanctuary of Damiano’s house, but I know that I’ve come this far purely by expecting the worst out of every situation.
There’s no turning back now.
Weed that was smoked recently wafts into my nostrils along with a moldy scent so strong I can almost taste it. Despite the old, crumbly feeling that the club gives off, the room is decent for the most part. Glimmer’s clothes that she wore before she changed into her work ensemble lay over the back of a chair that is pushed under a vanity table. Next to it, her purse and phone are on the table. Her wallet is open, and a credit card is carelessly placed next to a white powdery substance I figured is drugs. The askew prescription pill bottles close by signify that whatever she’s taken is laced with other drugs.
Distracted from my perusal of the small room that looks like it used to be a storage closet, the low sounds greeting me from behind a room divider that’s hooked into the ceiling alert me that I’m not alone. Dim lighting covers the room, adding to the broken sense of it. Hypervigilant, I take quiet, precise steps toward the separator between Reynaldo and me. The grunts become louder, disturbing me more than I imagined they would, making me want to scream.
Breathe.
I follow my demands, breathing in deeply, then exhaling slowly. My footsteps falter and stop at the sight I’m greeted with. Momentarily, I’m entranced by the vision of Reynaldo on all fours. His eyes are closed, but an expression of discomforting pleasure covers his face as he’s rutted into from behind by Glimmer. I’m shocked for a split second, immobilized by what I see.
When I was with Aldo, he took me to a sex club. At fifteen, seeing people doing things I had never imagined was a lot. Even witnessing Reynaldo get head from a boy barely legal while another man fucked the boy from behind made me feel like I would never equate to what Aldo needed from me sexually.
So, this makes so much sense.
It doesn’t surprise me that he would eventually want to be fucked as well. It does make my hate boiling beneath the surface overflow. The niggling feeling that I’ve allowed to consume me in the past starts to take over. A warmth spreads throughout me, and I force my breathing to calm down.
Too consumed in their throes of pleasure to notice that I’m even in the room, I step back and look around. For a moment, I think about the precarious situation that I’ve found myself in. I wonder if the mafia knows that behind closed doors, besides him being a child-raping, murdering, low-life piece of shit, he likes to be fucked by strap-on-wearing strippers?
They will know soon.
Gingerly, I make my way back to the door and lock it so we’re not disturbed. The bass from the music outside the room and the noise surrounding us stop them from hearing anything. Feeling more confident and fueled by my hate of seeing them enjoying life to their hearts’ content, I pull two syringes from my pocket and the baggie I snuck in. I pop off the tops and put them in my pants pocket, noting what each one is. I peek around the divider one good time to ensure they are still busy, then push it back.
Glimmer is the first to react.
Her head snaps in my direction, and her brown eyes fall on me. At first, she looks angry that someone had the nerve to interrupt them, but then she takes me in. Her drug-induced euphoria ends, but before she can scream, I jab her with the tip of the syringe into her neck, pushing in the drugs I’ve mixed and melted down.
Stunned, her hand moves to her neck, touching the prick that I gave her. Time suspends as we watch each other, one of us waiting for the other to react. It takes a moment longer before she goes limp. Her eyes widen in fear as it registers that she can’t do or say anything. A groan exits her mouth, and I wait as she starts to feel the effects of what is shutting her system down.
“Bitc–”
Drool slips from the side of her mouth, starting to slacken, looking like she’s having a stroke. Her eyes droop dramatically, her arms flailing out to grab ahold of anything when she stumbles back. Unable to gain control, Glimmer’s foot slips off the edge of the stained futon beneath her, and she falls back, pulling out of Reynaldo’s asshole.
Her eyes meet mine when she crashes into the wall. “Fuck.”
She manages.
I stare at her, unmoved or unbothered. My eyes calculate her moves, waiting until she slides sideways into a dresser. Her eyes close on impact, and I know that it will take her a little longer before she stops breathing.
It’s a nicer death than she deserves
Startled by the noise, Reynaldo turns around. Alarm stretches across his face upon seeing me, and he swings faster than I anticipate. Quickly, I dodge his punch that barely misses my chest, striking him in the face with my elbow. Since he’s still on his knees, he loses his balance, and I move in, pushing the second syringe into his neck.
I step back to get some space, and he stands to his full height, angry. Intent on retaliating, he stops a second later, and his jaw ticks. I use his hesitation to my advantage. My fingers curl into a fist, and I punch him in the throat with all of my strength. He yells out in pain and clutches his throat.
Gasping like a fish out of water, I feel myself smile at the pain that I’ve caused him, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I want him to hurt– I need him to hurt.
This isn’t going to be enough. Anything I inflict on him tonight won’t be enough to repay him for all he’s put me through.
He needs to live in the same hell that I am.
I see red.
My well-constructed plan is aborted in the moment of rage I’m enveloped by.
Opening the baggie, I grab some of the ground contents. Forcefully, I rub the substance all over his face and shove my fingers into his mouth, muting his protests. The feel of him gagging on my fingers as I continuously thrust in his mouth to the back of his throat has me feeling elated.
For good measure, I run my fingers over his gums and tongue.
It doesn’t take long.
In horror, he looks me in the eyes; shock and fear line every crevice of his visage. I count the seconds it takes for him to gasp, finally releasing a breath, then falling back on the futon bed he was just bent over. He rolls from his back to his side, his breaths shallowing out.
“What the fuck?” He gasps.
I count his breaths.
One– Four seconds pass.
Two– He gasps hoarsely. His eyes look like they take over his entire face. Panic sets in that this may be the end.
Three– His eyes roll in the back of his head, and he groans, probably realizing that whatever he’s feeling isn’t lethal enough to kill him yet.
Four– He frowns at me.
“Nuts,”
I comment. My head cocks to the side. “Peanuts, to be exact.”
I watch him struggle more.
Helpless
It's like watching a bug twitch uncontrollably after you’ve sprayed it with toxic bug spray.
Kill him.
Let him die.
Let this be his last night to hurt anybody else.
Gaia.
I imagine this is how she felt when he was torturing her.
I want to put myself in her place but I don’t. I can’t.
Instead, I kneel next to his face, taking him in. I love that he can’t see me entirely and that my voice isn’t close to when I was sixteen. His brown eyes flit around nervously, circling the room searching for answers as he grasps at his throat.
“See this?”
I dig in my pocket and pull out an Epi-pen. Once the bouncer had seen it, they didn't care. They’d given it back to me without any hesitation. “It’s crazy the stuff that you can learn from a simple conversation that happens around you.”
“Are you fuckin’ stupid?”
We all look at Reynaldo as he pushes the plate out of a waitress's hand, an angry, murderous expression on his face. I look at Aldo, who watches the scene with his hand under his chin, amused– Almost giddy as Reynaldo stands. Intimidating, Reynaldo’s form towers over the more petite woman, who steps back. Before she can react, he slaps the waitress and then pushes her hard enough to make her fall.
I instinctually move to help the woman and am held back. Again, I look at Aldo, confused. His arm tightens around my waist to hold me still but not constricting. “What happened?”
“Shh, Amore.”
He coaxes me in that soothing voice of his.
We watch as the waitress scrambles to get herself together. She collects the food tray, racing to pick up the fallen appetizers while trying to contain her embarrassment. I take in the clustered almonds, brittle peanuts, and goat cheese covered in jam and nuts, but I still don't understand what is happening.
Aldo laughs louder than necessary, getting Reynaldo’s attention. “Say one more fucking thing about what’s mine, and you’re dead, huh?”
Reynaldo looks from the waitress who has no idea what she’s done, to Aldo and me. A wicked smile spreads on his face, and he points at Aldo, laughing at whatever inside joke they’re sharing. “Fuck you. That could have killed me, you piece of shit.”
Instead of responding, Aldo’s left hand snakes up my front, closing around my throat in a sensual movement as he pulls me back against his chest. It takes me a moment to turn my face towards him, and he kisses me until my insides are a puddle.
“You’re mine, Amore.”
Shocked, Reynaldo looks up at me. “E- Ec-cho.”
His voice is raspy, strained, and in pain. “Who would have known? All I needed was some ground peanuts and a cocktail of drugs.”
I glance at the Epi-pen in my hand and back to Reynaldo. “What do nuts do to you, Reynaldo?”
He says nothing. A mixture of fear and anger are on his face. I see that he would love nothing more than to kill me, but at the rate that I imagine his nut allergy is taking over, he’ll soon be able to do nothing.
Edging closer, I finally give him a full view of my face, though the mask is still on. My eyes scantily move over the dingy, dirty, mildewy-looking room. I tsk. “You may feel like you’re dying, Rey, but you’re not.”
I smile. “Not yet, anyway.”
His arm thrashes out at me, but he doesn’t have the strength. “Bi-”
He stutters, “Y-yo-you bi-”
“Bitch?”
I shake my head, taunting him. “You’re in no position to call names or make requests.”
He grunts, and a weak growl exits his mouth.
I look at him now.
Weak.
Pants down around his knees from when he was bent over, taking a dildo up the ass. His shirt barely covers his stomach, which is covered in unkempt body hair, cascading to overgrown pubic hair. When I was younger, I thought he had a weird appeal and was dangerous but still sweet. Now, all I see is how naive I was.
My lips turn up in disgust.
I want to slash his throat and get it over with, but I know better.
He deserves better.
He deserves the same treatment that he gave to Gaia. The exact amount of mercy will be given to him.
“You know?”
I hold up the baggie that still has the ground peanut. “It took me years to figure out the exact amount of damage that one peanut could do to you. It took me even longer to figure out how much I would need to shove in your throat to get you to shut the fuck up. I mean, yeah, I drugged you, too, but just enough to incapacitate you.”
I look at the baggie that’s in my hand, unable to fathom that this cockamamie plan is working. “Now, I’m no scientist by any means or even a smart person, but I figure that once you start to catch your breath, once you’ve got that under control, I just give you some more. Just a little more to take off the edge of hope. Huh, Rey, sound good?”
His eyes go wide, and I breathe out deeply, taunting his inability to take anything more than shallow, controlled breaths. I know my eyes betray the rage that is fueling me right now.
Young Echo wants to scream like she did that day she realized her baby sister was taken from her– From me. Damiano’s Echo sits back and watches, knowing what will happen. She is eager but unable to indulge too much because she’s supposed to be incapable of anything.
Tortured Echo– Tortured me is center stage.
And she’s going to make sure that we leave here happy.
My attention turns to Glimmer. Barely breathing, I stare at the dildo she’s wearing, then back at Reynaldo. “When I woke up in that hospital, Rey, the first person I asked for was Gaia. I knew she was gone, but I still asked about her first. I begged the detectives to tell me what had happened to her, and they didn’t want to. They said it was too gruesome.”
My eyes roll, and I mimic the tone of the detectives, “That I needed to focus on my future.”
I stand, looming over him. He’s stopped clutching his throat but is still breathing shallowly, and his eyes are watching me. Uncertain of what is going to happen, he scans the room.
He’s frightened of the unknown.
Of me – I’m the unknown.
He should be.
“It wasn’t until later, when you and some other men tried to kill me in the hospital, and I was put in witness protection, that the detective told me.”
I withdraw another syringe. “And I couldn’t figure out how or why you all waited so long to come after me. I couldn’t grasp how you found me after so many months. Then it made sense.”
I stop, shaking my head. “But that’s neither here nor there. As I was saying, you violated a child, Rey. Gaia was an innocent little girl. She knew nothing harsh about this world, and you took that from her. You showed her monsters exist after I spent years telling her they didn’t.”
With more force than I need, I stab the syringe in his neck without care, pushing the drugs in. He grunts angrily, trying to move away from me. “Don’t worry. This is nothing, just a little paralytic. You’ll still feel everything, believe me.”
I smile under my mask. “But we wouldn’t want you moving too soon. We want to make sure you have fun.”
For good measure, I roughly grab the end of his shirt and yank until the material gives from the pressure, then stuff it in his mouth until I know he can’t talk or make noise. “I figure if the ground peanuts and cocktail of drugs I’ve given you haven’t killed you yet, then what I’m about to do definitely will.”
I hate that I want this to last hours, but I don’t have that luxury. I want his torment to stretch out as long as my family’s did.
“Do you-”
I stop my words for dramatic pause, Reynaldo’s eyes stay on me. I huff out a breath and lift my mask. Light sweat coats my face, and I wipe it with the arm of my hoodie. “You need to see my face for this.”
My hands brace on my hips. I chuckle. “Do you think that your wife and your children know that you get fucked by strippers, Rey? Do you think that they know that you are so ashamed of yourself that you hide being this sadistic sick fuck, that prefers to rape little girls?”
Below me, he grunts, unable to move. His eyes follow my movement as I make my way to Glimmer. I bend down next to her, checking to be sure whether she’s breathing or not. Usually, I wouldn’t have bothered to kill her, but since she’s as shitty a person as Reynaldo, I know that the world will be better off without her.
Any woman that can traffick young girls and pimp them out deserves death.
I grab her arm, shooting the remainder of the contents from the first syringe into her. An overdose is too nice for her, but I don’t have time enough to do what I want.
Behind me, Reynaldo yells through his shirt. The muffled sounds make me look at him. I stand again, stretching my back until I hear a pop. Through his yells and curses, I laugh. “Oh, no, did you want me to leave her alone? Keep her out of this?”
My eyes roll at the idea of Reynaldo having any sentiment in his rotten core. “She’s been in this for years. She’s no less guilty of the lives she’s ruined than you.”
Beneath his shirt that’s tucked in his mouth, Reynaldo makes what I’m sure are more broken promises and threats, trying to fight against the drugs that are taking over his system. “We’re gonna have to make this quick, Rey. You’re a hard man to get alone, and this was my only chance. So, here we are.”
I look around the room for a weapon.
“The report said that Gaia was brutally raped. There were vaginal and rectal tears, indicative of forceful penetration. You sodomized, then raped a child to the point that her perineum was torn. They found a trophy discarded on the floor with fecal matter and blood on it. But the main cause of death was blunt force trauma. Which leads me to believe that after you destroyed my baby sister, you took the coward’s way out.”
I pick up the oddly shaped tequila bottle that is on a vanity. It looks crystalized with spikes coming out of it, but I don’t want to use it. The top of it isn’t what I want to make an impact yet. “You know, for the longest time, I wished that Aldo had killed me that day, that I wouldn’t have to live with this burden. For a brief moment in WITSEC, I thought I had a chance to be happy. I was happy, Reynaldo, then Luca came with men and his fucking razors and took that from me.”
Anger grips me, and I allow it to course through me until I’m able to let it pass. I’m not accustomed to feeling a lot or allowing myself to be consumed by my emotions. So, to be face to face with Reynaldo, I know everything I feel is natural. After I lost my first foster parents, I worked on hiding any emotions. I’d taken everything that they had taught me and put it into practice.
Their first teaching was always to be prepared to run.
And I’d grown tired of running.
I see Glimmer’s heels on the floor by the futon. The seven-inch platform heels also have spikes on them, and I smile. Glimmer had a thing for spikes. I pick up the heel, weighing it in my hand while I stare at the metal and sharp spikes adorning the shoe's heel.
“Then it came to me.”
I crouch on the futon. Reynaldo’s back is to me, and I push his paralyzed body over so he’s predominantly on his stomach. The view of his hairy ass disturbs me, but I ignore it. My gloved hand inches down his back with a slowness that I’m sure tortures him as well as me. I finally reach his cheeks, oddly misshapen from his body frame, spreading them. “Why would I let you all scare me? Why would I be the hunted one? All I had ever wanted to do was to be left alone.”
Against my fingers, he tries to move, but all he manages is muffled cries. I rim his puckered hole, shoving a gloved finger in it with a rough brutality I know hurts since there’s no lube. Reynaldo yells into his shirt. “You took a lot from me that day– Everything, in fact. I cried. I begged for your humanity, and you laughed, Rey.”
I flip the heel over, rubbing it over his backside. The sharpness of the overused shoe leaves abrasions over his skin, and he continues to make protesting noises that I ignore. My other hand inches lower to where his oiled nut sack is shriveled, and I note his uncooperative arousal.
Surprisingly, Reynaldo’s dick is bigger than I would have thought.
He’s atrocious, but I can see the allure and automatic response that his body is having. He can’t stop himself from responding to the things he feels, though his mind is well aware of what will happen to him.
I wonder if I chop his cock off while it’s hard, will it stay that way?
There is only one way to find out.
“I hope you kissed your wife when you left the house, Rey. I hope you told your children that you love them. I saw them once.”
I pull the heel away, resting it by his head when I move into his view. “I watched your wife usher all of your kids into that gorgeous two-story home that you live in, in the quiet neighborhood far away from the city– Away from who you really are. And I wanted so badly to go in there and slit all of their throats while they slept, write my sister’s name on the wall, and bathe in their blood. I didn’t, though.”
I take a deep breath to embrace my humanity. “That would have been fair, ending the rotten line you brought into this world. But I’m not fair, Rey. I’m just. They aren’t the reason you are this way.”
I return to where I was before. In the distance, music blares in the background, and I recognize the song. “I love this song.”
Confusion lines Reynaldo’s face at my sudden change in tone. I don’t give him the chance to register what I’ve said. I shove the heel fully into his ass.
The guttural scream he lets out gives me goosebumps of excitement over my body. I relax my grip, letting my head fall back as I stretch my neck to relieve the tension. My eyes briefly close when my untamed rage begs to control me. I lift my head and, again, without warning, rip the heel out.
Blood coats the spikes, but beneath it, the flecks of shit that are on it call to me. My fingers fondle the heel, caressing every groove and space until my glove is covered in Reynaldo’s fluids. I wait, breathing in and out at the same time as Reynaldo. I study his body language, seeing how tight his back is in anticipation of my assault.
Counting down, I hold my breath until he exhales, relaxing. No care is taken when I shove the heel back in all the way, scratching the crevice between his ass cheeks. Muffled by the shirt, he yells, and I pull it out of his mouth to shove my fingers in this time. The glove that’s covered in his blood and shit chokes him, only stopping when he throws up on the futon. The smell of it permeates the immediate area, and the whiff of alcohol I get that’s mixed with whatever he ate earlier is sickening.
“You’re a fuckin’ disgusting piece of shit.”
I scoop up the throw-up, stuffing what I can into his mouth. Against my hand, Rey tries to get away but can’t. His throw-up falls back out his mouth, and I sigh.
Useless.
The world quiets long enough for me to find more ways to degrade him the same way he did Gaia. My hand that’s soaked in blood, shit, and throw up lifts eye level. I watch the mixture fall to the pool on Reynaldo’s back, then slide up and collect on his neck.
It dawns on me. Without care, I yank the heel out of Reynaldo’s ass, and he grunts. I stare at him as he watches me lean forward to collect what hasn’t soaked into the futon yet. He looks bewildered, scared, and still aroused, according to the precum stains that are slick spots beneath him.
I pretend to take care. Spreading his mess over his backside, two fingers plunge into his ass before I use his fluids as lube. The heel is stabbed back into his asshole, sheathing it inside him.
Euphoria spreads through me as I continue my assault on Reynaldo. Each thrust into his asshole fills me with a tiny bit of happiness. He’s getting the best treatment for what he did to Gaia while I tune out his yells. When my arm starts to burn from the extensive force I’m using, I stop, leaving the heel in his ass.
“Fuck,”
I stand up and stretch. “I’m tired. What about you, Rey?”
I look over at Rey. His face is red, and tears fall over his face, soaking the padding under him, snot bubbles spray from his nose.
Laughter erupts inside me, escaping in torn giggles that sound as tortured as I feel. “What was it you said to me all those years ago?”
I sigh in thought. “There’s no sin in revenge.”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry, Rey, when you’re found, everyone will know what you do.”
I push the heel in more, and he cries out. “You’ll die with more shame than you’ve ever lived with.”