Chapter 10
Holden
She touched me.
Her dirty hand touched my chest, and I nearly vomited all over the petite chipmunk. Absolutely vile.
Immediately after she left, I took the elevator up to my unit and showered in bleach, but the phantom fingers pressing against me still lingers. I fucking hate it. It needs to stop.
The clothes from earlier are in my trunk, layered in plastic bags ready to be incinerated at the warehouse. The entire outfit is ruined and cannot be salvaged, thanks to her.
“And the audacity coming from her mouth to fucking threaten YOU!” My fucking nostrils are flaring with each rapid breath taken through my nose.
“Does she not know who the fuck you are? Mr. Carlisle, you are why I hit her in the first place, and I have no issue doing it again. Then whose funeral will it be?”
Cruising down the street in my Maybach. The auto body shop picked up the Douche Canoe before we headed out again.
With my skin itching, sitting at home wasn’t an option this evening.
My mind would have solely focused on her.
“Write your letter. I’ll write one all over your skin next.
The bumps and scratches displayed on her arms are nothing compared to what I am capable of.
I will carve her like a fucking bird at Christmas. ” My mouth salivates at the thought.
“I’m aware I don’t do blood, Mr. Carlisle.
For her, right now, I’d be willing to compromise that rule.
That’s how irate I am. I’d only need to get a biohazard suit and heavy-duty industrial plastic sheeting.
” Heavy breathing fogs the window next to me.
Sweat perspires from my forehead. Sliding my fingers underneath my glasses, I squeeze the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut.
“She is making my head hurt and compromising everything. Dammit.”
Opening my eyes, I slam on the brakes and swerve onto the sidewalk, nearly missing the bumper of the taxi in front of me. Mr. Carlisle’s head bounces off the side window, and the weight of his body shifts toward me.
Absolutely not.
Adjusting him quickly, I avoid the risk of his head landing on my shoulder.
The area we are in isn’t too crowded, but those pedestrians walk around my front end.
A couple even hit the hood with their hands.
One jerk has caught my attention, because one strike wasn’t enough.
His fist connects with the metal twice. It seems to have hit the spot for him as it is followed by his fists bumping together.
Gold rings line each finger with matching gold teeth on display.
The bright light overhead causes the reflection to dance, only drawing my attention further towards him.
Rolling my window down, only a sliver, I shout, “Sorry about that.”
“Watch where you’re driving, old man,” the kid, who can’t be a minute older than twenty, shouts back.
Mr. Carlisle scoffs.
“I know. But I have to have him,” I hiss back.
The kid jumps in again. “Wait. Is this shit two-toned?”
Responding casually, it’s about baiting him now. “Yes. Metallic rose gold on the lower body, black rims and black upper body, roof, hood, and trunk. The interior is custom. Let me get off the sidewalk. I’ll park around the corner if you want to take a look?”
“Dude, seriously?” The kid’s eyes light up.
“Least I can do. Please.”
Rolling the window up, the corner of my mouth lifts as relief washes down my body. This is exactly what I needed tonight.
Putting the car in reverse, I pull back into traffic.
A couple of horns go off, but they can go fuck themselves.
The kid takes off around the corner and I follow suit.
Pulling into an open spot on the side street, I put the car in park and quickly grab a syringe from the glove compartment.
Getting out, I slide it into my front pocket and walk around, meeting the kid.
He reaches his hand out to shake mine, although I ignore it.
“Here, let me show you the custom pillows in the back seat. It also comes with a refrigerated console here in the middle, between the two seats.” The kid’s brows rise. His mind has been blown, while mine remains bored, for now.
Wasting no time, I open the back door and the interior under-glow lighting provides an ambience. The kid bends in to look and his cheap cologne offensively invades my general radius.
Looking forward briefly, the kid speaks. “Hey, bro.”
How dare he speak to Mr. Carlisle. “Do not speak to him.” Repulsed yet again this evening, I’ve lost all patience and swipe the syringe out of my pants pocket and stab it into the side of his neck.
My thumb pushes down on the plunger, inserting the clear liquid into his system, and within a second, his body falls limp inside.
I’m officially on the clock. I have forty-five minutes to get him to my warehouse and use him as my very own personal stress relief.
I’m never this reckless, but she has provoked the beast within me, and I will be picturing her the entire fucking time.
Hues of red, yellow, and orange bounce off the space. Warmth tickles my skin as the plastic bag melts with its contents soon to join it in ashes at the bottom of the barrel. Crackles of wood and flame join the peaceful sound of “Clair de Lune”.
I secured the kid in the lone metal chair in the center of the small space. Mr. Carlisle guards the Maybach, he doesn’t need to relive his time here. Unless he asked, of course, because who am I to deny a dead man?
Watching the flames dance before me, it’s soothing. I find comfort in their beauty and calmness knowing her touch is being burnt.
“I am going to kill you.”
My voice echoes around us as I recite my coveted rules.
“Don’t weep or plead. Save your energy for feeling because you will never feel again after tonight. If you can’t feel every last thing I am about to do to you, then what is the point of all of this? Am I right?” Spinning on my heel, I turn to face the kid and joyfully clap my hands together.
With wide eyes, I take him in, completely fucking helpless and unable to move in a horrid green velour tracksuit.
“I’ve already injected you with a paralyzer.
Moving isn’t an option, but if you make a single fucking noise, I will add another minute to our playtime together.
From heavy breathing to a grunt.” I hold my arms out wide, shouting, “ I don’t fucking discriminate when it comes to people annoying me.
Regardless, I will make this hurt really, really, bad.
” The kid grunts. Calling my bluff or because he is unable to follow simple instructions, I’m not sure.
Looking down at him with a single raised finger, I stop him.
“Secondly. Now, listen closely because this is important, if a single spot of blood lands on my white shirt, you get another minute. In this game, you always lose and I will always win.”
And he pleads with low groans of predictability and pathetic tones.
“I hate when they do this. I hate it.” The single finger raised now points directly between this kid's eyes as I whisper sweet promises. “You will soon understand how fucking serious I am about my rules.”
Making my way over to the stainless steel table, my fingers are already playing with my gold H cuff links. Removing them one at a time, I then place them next to the antique music box, which has a set of blue latex gloves sitting next to it.
Following the cuff links, I remove my glasses, then the gold tie clip. I pinch the bridge of my nose once more this evening while filling my lungs with oxygen. Holding it for a ten count, I feel everything from my ribs expanding and heart beating before slowly exhaling through pursed lips.
Continuing my deep breathing exercise, I begin to roll my shirt sleeves up in four even folds until the fabric meets my elbows, leaving my forearms exposed.
Cracking my neck aids in removing the tension that has attempted to remain as I finish rolling the second sleeve.
I even crack each one of my fingers for good measure, completely relaxing my body.
The music to my soul repeats itself, and I allow my mind to be consumed.
My heavy head falls back, eyes closed, as the flow of the song serenading us guides my next moves.
Reaching forward, the tips of my fingers find the latex gloves.
One by one, I slowly slide them over my fingers and thumbs.
Once satisfied, my eyes open and my head raises while glancing down, smirking.
The kid behind me breaks my moment of solitude by projecting a hideous noise from deep within his throat.
Shaking my head in response, I spin on my heel and walk confidently over to him.
Looking directly at him, each stride serves a purpose.
His mouth is wide, already prepared with a steel dental mouth gag, one on each side to display his gold teeth beautifully.
The kid’s eyes widen in fear the closer I get, and I use it to my advantage.
Bending at the waist, I place both hands on his knees and stare into his now welling eyes.
“Your pain is my pleasure. I want the extra minute with you. I fucking crave it. But I hate the sound of your voice. Your noises irritate me.” I pause, taking another deep breath before reaching up with one hand, squeezing his chin.
Through gritted teeth, I attempt to get the fucking point across.
“You mean nothing to me. The sound of my voice will be the last thing you hear. Perhaps I will gift you a loud chuckle or two while enjoying every last thing I’m about to do to you.
” I pause for dramatic effect. It’s fun playing with them.
“Your screams will never be heard. Your feelings are no longer relevant. And I am about to have the time of my life. Shall we begin? Welcome to your death.” My brow arches, drool from his mouth strings down over my hand as I push his head away.
“And you're exactly right, kid. You should have never touched my fucking car.”