Chapter 10 #2
Standing tall, I slant my head ever so slightly and whisper slyly. “The blood rule is imperative this evening. I’m trying a new technique.” Mindlessly my covered finger traces a random design on his thigh, giving the kid a false sense of comfort before walking away.
Stepping back to the barrel where the fire still seductively dances for me, I had decided early on I wanted to own his gold.
Not the fake shit on his fingers, but the mediocre stuff on his teeth.
It nearly annoys me more than his grunts, and it must fucking go.
Taking the fire tongs, I grip a piece of burning wood.
Raising it out from the flame, it has bright embers of its own flickering as the wood singes, crackling under my grasp.
“Now, kid. Remember the rules.” He blatantly ignores me and grunts once more.
I roll my eyes. He is as predictable as the rest. “I’ve told you pleading won’t help.
You are dying because it’s what I desire.
I wrote your fate the moment you touched my fucking car this evening, remember?
Now sit back, relax, and enjoy our time together, because I know I will. ”
Taking long, purposeful strides toward him once more, his body tenses. Just because he can’t move doesn’t mean I can’t see the fear. It’s a shame, if they ever listened to me, it would make things much easier for both of us.
Holding the log high, nearly millimeters away from his open mouth, I push it forward, hard, against his lips and metal gag.
More grunts and barely there screams follow, and my blood pressure rises.
Instinct wants me to push harder. And boy am I tempted.
So fucking tempted as my eyes become captivated at the sight before me.
The metal holding his mouth open is burning his skin.
I resist my momentary desire, this isn’t me.
This kid will not push me to break my rules.
Blood will begin to trickle any time now and it seems as if I have that grand event saved for someone else.
Pulling back, before it’s too late, I release the fire tongs, dropping the log onto his crotch, allowing the heat to slowly invade through his horrific green polyester track suit.
Eventually it will reach his skin, making each second more violent than the last. Millions of nerve endings live in the abdomen and it’s bound to be excruciating.
Time will slow, his mind will race with great regret, and I will forever feel satisfied.
Peering at his face, his skin and tongue are blistered and burnt with black soot smudging along his teeth.
I bend over once more, bringing a finger just before my lips, reminding him, “Shhh.” Followed by a cheeky wink and a slap to the shoulder.
The kid’s eyes look panicked but no noise follows. Finally learning. About fucking time.
Bringing a box of matches out from my shirt pocket, I contemplate my next move.
Tonight was sporadic. I didn’t come prepared or with a plan.
The smell of burning flesh isn’t one I particularly enjoy.
Tugging off one glove, the adrenaline is worn off.
It’s not the same. Even though the little shit deserves it, he can keep his gold, which barely melted from the log. His life though, that will still end.
I leave the log to burn him slowly, which I warned him about at the beginning.
He made noises, this shit lasts longer now and he knows that.
Making my way back over to the table, my shoulders relax as loose hair falls over my forehead.
Using my free hand to rake it back into place, I continue to think, allowing “Clair de Lune” to guide me.
Deep inhales fill my lungs followed with strong exhales, relieving them of any tension while reminding myself I am in control.
I do this because it feels too fucking good to deny.
It’s all I’ve ever known since I was young, and I love it.
I’m composed.
Focused.
She got into my headspace, and it nearly sent everything off-kilter. I’m doing this because of his actions, not hers.
I turn to face the kid once more. This will be his final moment. Planned or not, this has to end. But perhaps I have spoken too soon. His head has fallen backward with the whites of his eyes on full display. The kid has gone limp.
He’s already dead.
Shocker.
Shrugging my shoulders, disappointed, I’m moving on. Although, a slight itch still needs to be scratched. My mind won’t rest until I get that shit gold off his teeth. It apparently irritates me more than anticipated. Tonight is going to be a long one. But at least he felt it.
Shaking my head in displeasure. “Fucking pussy, now you know that you never touch a man’s car while double fisting him.”
“He just died. Nothing as climactic as yours, unfortunately. It was wildly frustrating, Mr. Carlisle.” Tapping my thumb in a rhythm of two against the leather steering wheel, I think about how glorious her death could be.
It will take plenty of planning to ensure it’s done right.
Simply magnificent. Perhaps like poetry for the eyes.
Nothing as chaotic and ugly as this evening.
Nodding my head slightly, ideas vividly flow through my mind.
“It could be fun if you don’t paralyze her first?” Mr. Carlisle baits.
He isn’t wrong. Just like the points game.
I attempt to change the subject to address the other elephant in the room.
“You are starting to smell, Mr. Carlisle. Possibly a shower could be in your future,” I state while thinking about the kid in my trunk as we drive through the streets toward my dock.
The sky is clear, dark with stars attempting to outshine the city lights.
It’s perfect conditions for the boat. All the gold was successfully extracted from his teeth.
I balled it up and put it in his tracksuit pocket.
I didn’t want to fucking keep it. I just wanted it gone. The entire thing was offensive.
We are minutes away when I turn down another street on the way to the docks. The farther we get down the road, the more vehicles I see parked along the side. Glancing from side to side, I note this is bizarre for this time of night. I slow my speed to not draw attention.
Looking closer as we pass, these aren’t ordinary cars.
They are top of the line, similar to mine.
Passing fellow Mercs to Bentleys my interest immediately piques and curiosity makes me wonder why I wasn’t fucking invited to whatever the fuck this is.
This entire evening is full of offenses directed towards me it seems.
Mr. Carlisle politely reminds me, “You hate people. The sound and thought of them breathing in the same air as you would have you spinning into a homicidal rage.”
“Perhaps you’re onto something,” I respond in agreement, with my thumb still tapping against the steering wheel. “The attention of a mass murder wouldn’t sit well with me.”
More cars line the street, at least thirty, maybe more. Two figures stand next to one of the cars. My headlights shine on them for only a moment, and that’s all I need to see who it is.
Her. With that rat's nest balled atop her head, looking up at a man as a trunk slowly closes on its own.
“Very curious, indeed, Mr. Carlisle.”
Confused, I wonder why she is with someone who has a body flung over his shoulder. She may have as many secrets as me, I see. Perhaps it’s a good thing she survived, although those points would have been nice to have.
“That’s it. You’ve convinced me, Mr. Carlisle. I’ll do it. The annoying girl must go. And I’ve been thinking… the next one must drown. Burning skin was a one-time occurrence. I never care to experience that odor again.”