17. Chapter 17 #2
With one last deep breath, I found my voice and quelled my nausea. “Wrong. You’re the one who’s dead.”
I stood and tested my balance before I walked over to him, straddled his body, and sat on his chest, pulling out a knife I had sheathed at my side. The sharp blade traced along his jawline, but I didn’t dig in hard enough to draw blood.
“It’s your turn to feel my pain. Unfortunately, you don’t love anyone, so I can’t take them from you. But you will suffer.”
“You’re going… to pay.”
“No, Father. I already paid. You’ve made me pay since the day Mother died. It’s your turn.”
His eyes rolled into the back of his head, but I didn’t give him enough drugs to make him pass out. Only to keep him incapacitated.
With great effort, I stood off of him, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and jacket, and with all the strength I had left, I dragged his body toward the cellar.
His body flopped hard on the stairs as we went down.
Once we reached the center of the room, surrounded by fine wines from across the globe, I dropped him.
“Don’t move,” I said as I went in search of something to tie him up. I found some poly rope, but before I tied him up, I stripped him of his clothes. After flipping him onto his stomach, I hog-tied him.
I couldn’t work if I were going to bleed out everywhere, so I went in search of a first aid kit. The surgical glue was enough to hold everything together, and I rebandaged my wounds, then headed back down to the basement.
With the last bit of my energy, I untied him and got him situated on a chair naked, and tied him up again.
“There. Now, you’re in a perfect position to die.”
He tried to look menacing like he could kill me with his eyes alone, but he could barely keep his head up.
“It was one thing to hurt me and something you did often. I was used to your abuse. But you killed Ben. Had him tortured. And for that, I can never forgive you. Neither can his father. Ironic you killed someone I love, even though someone killed your first love. You should’ve known how I’d react.
Instead, you got cocky and assumed I’d come crawling to you.
That was your first mistake. Your second mistake was underestimating Ben’s father. ”
“After everything I’ve… done for you.”
I barked out a laugh. “Done? Yes, let me count all my broken bones and stitches while I give you my gratitude.”
“I taught you how to survive.”
“No, you taught me abuse, how to kill, and now, how to torture. I mean, you should be proud of me right now, Father. I’m behaving exactly like you made me.”
“You’re no son of… mine.”
“Oh, boo hoo. I’m crying.”
I stood and hovered my face over his, smelling the alcohol and stale cigarettes on his panting breath, wanting to see the pain in his eyes up close and personal as I slipped the sharp blade of my knife into his chest, only deep enough to cut, not kill.
Then I dragged it down, down, down to his hip.
His eyes hardened, and his jaw clenched, holding back his scream.
The stench of his blood made my nauseated stomach roil even more, but I swallowed the bile down.
“That’s just a taste. Did you know the men you sent shoved a knife up my ass and cut it up?
That’s why I was delayed. I had to have my fucking asshole repaired, so I can take a shit like a normal human again.
Maybe I should just cut off your dick. I mean, it’s not like you’re going to need it anymore. ”
His eyes widened for a moment, then hardened again, pretending he wasn’t afraid. I may have believed it were it not for the trickling sweat dripping down from his head.
I stuck my knife into his chest once more in a shallow cut and sliced through his skin in a strip, pulling it off to expose muscle. He grunted and choked back his scream.
“Do you know what makes this even better?” I waited for an answer that I knew wasn’t coming before I told him.
“I’m not only getting my revenge, but I’m getting paid for it.
You see, Ben’s father sent another killer for me and you.
Once they realized I was just as much a victim as Ben, I begged for the chance to kill you instead of having someone else do it.
They would be too gentle with you. And I was owed.
Flesh for flesh. Pain for pain. Blood for blood. ”
I took another chunk, this time from his stomach, where it hurt more.
“I owe you a broken leg.”
Next went more skin from his thigh.
“I owe you four broken fingers and two broken toes.”
My knife cleanly severed four fingers and two toes. By then, he couldn’t hold back his screams.
“I owe you a broken nose.”
The sharp blade slid across the bridge of his nose.
“I owe you thirty-seven lacerations and two-thousand, one hundred and eight stitches.”
He never made it to the last eleven cuts into his body as he bled out. My father was slumped in the chair, dead, and I fucking felt nothing. There was no joy, no pleasure, not even hatred remained. Just nothingness.
I thoroughly washed my hands, then pulled out my phone. I grabbed my dead father by his hair, lifted his face, and took a picture, sending the image to Sid. Then I texted him that it was done and that I needed my payment and a clean-up crew.
I headed upstairs and found one of my father’s guns in his desk drawer. After making sure it was loaded, I poured myself a drink of one of his fancy and expensive brandies. I chugged it down like a shot, sat in his chair, and pressed the gun into my mouth.
It would be nothing to end it. There was nothing left. I was dead inside, so I may as well have been dead all over.
But before I could pull the trigger, my phone pinged with a message from Sid, offering me a job.
When I finished my story, I looked down at Luca, who had passed out.
I shook my head and smiled before I stood up and carried him to bed.
Once I had him tucked in my bed, I watched him sleep for a long time, smoking a cigarette with the window open.
He was so beautiful and innocent, but that wouldn’t last much longer.
He would still be beautiful, but eventually, he’d be deadly with my help.
Luca would not only be able to care for himself but defend himself.
And damn if I would ever hurt him if he couldn’t get his training right.
He deserved the gentleness I never received.
After I put out my cigarette, I climbed into bed and kissed his head before falling into a blessed dreamless sleep. Like my soul had been cleansed after telling him my story.