26. Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
Brennon
This couldn’t be real life. This was a summer camp.
Not some gangster movie. Yet, on the far wall of the cabin, two hulking figures in black sweatshirts had my girl pinned to the bed.
Toni’s eyes were wide in panic, flying back and forth between the two figures.
One sat at her feet. His face, hidden. While the other’s face was clear as day.
Francis held his sister’s wrists over her head, crushing them together in one hand.
In his other hand, something dangled over Birdie’s chest. I couldn’t make out what it was, not initially, until his hold on it shifted and my blood ran cold.
It was a knife with a long, inch-wide blade.
It’s curved edge, ending with not just one sharp point, but a second hooked point on the back side of the blade.
Like it wasn’t just meant to cut you, but to catch your skin and tear it from your body.
Francis’ hold on its handle, far too loose for, my comfort.
Toni was still clothed, thank God, but her sweatshirt wouldn’t do fuck all if Francis decided to push that knife through it.
He looked at it, at her, hungrily like he was tempted to do just that.
Instead, he just kept talking. And not quietly.
With the whole camp at the game, he didn’t bother to keep his voice down.
“You see, while you were running around here like a little tart,” he spat, “Father was tutoring me in the family business. All aspects of the family business.” He spun, and I ducked.
Staying low, my back against the cabin walls, I tried to get my breathing under control.
It was too fast, and too loud, and who knew what that psycho would do if he heard me.
After a minute, I chanced another glance through the window.
All I could focus on was the way the knife’s tip was now touching Birdie.
Francis dragged it up and down between her breasts, letting it catch on the fabric.
Each time it did, my pulse threaded a bit more.
He finally stilled the knife, and I waited, not breathing, not blinking, while he loomed over Toni.
His oversized body nearly covering her completely, so my view of her was obstructed.
“So, imagine my surprise when Mitchell here,” He leaned back, and the air rushed out of me, to point at the other body huddled at the end for the bed.
I wasn’t surprised it was Mitchell, but it chilled me to hear Francis confirm it, “He told me all about what a little slut you were the whole time I was being put through THE FUCKING RINGER!” Francis’ previously calm, almost joking voice, exploded into something animalistic.
His whole body heaved. His grip on Toni and the knife, no longer loose, but so tight his knuckles were turning white.
“You really were daddy’s little princess, huh? Was this place your prize for being good at the one thing he always used you for?”
My brain was too panicked, too busy trying to think of a plan to spend more than a second processing Francis’ words. All it could zero-in on was that fucking knife tip, just in time for him to lift the blade an inch, and slash.
There was a tearing sound of material as he cut through her clothes, leaving her sweatshirt torn in half on either side of her body and her breasts exposed.
If I thought Francis looked like a wild animal before, it was nothing compared to his expression now.
My eyes flicked to Toni’s face. It was a mask of horror.
Her cheeks were wet, and the light reflected off the tears that continued to fall from her eyes.
But she wasn’t moving or trying to fight back anymore.
She was just watching, scared and alone.
As Mitchell leaned in closer, she winced.
Likely from the weight of him crushing her legs.
And sniveling, sickening creep that he was, asked, “Can I touch her?”
Francis nodded with a twisted smile, and Mitchell’s fat hand slid up Toni’s belly until he reached her chest. Then, he gripped her breast hard and twisted.
She grimaced worse than before but like the strong, brave girl she was, didn’t make a sound.
A kind of bloodthirstiness I’d never known rose inside of me.
I’d live with her silence right now, because later I was going to make her laugh while she watched me rip Mitchell’s hand from his body.
Then, he asked another question that sealed his fate, his eyes going from Toni’s body to Francis’ blade and back again.
“Can I cut her?”
“No,” Francis barked, and Mitchell retreated like a puppy who’d been kicked, “Her skin, her everything, it’s mine. If she’s going to bleed for anyone, it will be me.”
This time, I watched in wide-eyed horror as he started to carve into her perfect, unmarked skin. This time, she did scream. She howled as he carried on cutting with his right hand and holding her down with his left.
“One letter at a time, sister dear, so you’ll always remember who you belong to.” And while he cut, he called out each letter.
“M,” my pulse skyrocketed. I had to do something.
“I,”
I wasn’t some superhero, or gun-toting gang leader, I was just a regular college kid stuck watching someone I loved get hurt.
“N,” Now or never, I had to do something.
All summer, I’d been so angry at her for disappearing on me again, but I would hate myself forever if I stood here and let them torture my little bird.
I scrambled, searching the path and surrounding bushes for a rock or big stick or anything I could use as a fucking weapon and found nothing.
Then, I darted to the cabin next door. Riley’s.
He’s a good kid, so I doubted there’d be anything in there that would help me either, but maybe I’d get lucky.
I whipped his door open, and frantically dug through his clothes, his bedding, everything, eventually landing on the small set of drawers beside his bed. I ripped open each drawer.
Nothing but condoms in the first one.
Boxers in the second.
But the third. I fucking sagged with gratitude, when under a thousand pairs of socks, my hand wrapped around something hard.
I prayed it wasn’t some kind of sex toy, but my eyes nearly bugged out when I pulled the thing out.
Buried in Riley’s sock drawer, of all the damn places, was a hunting knife, sheathed and Velcroed securely.
I didn’t stop to question why my friend had a goddamned knife.
Turns out Francis wasn’t the only one with a weapon around here, but as I looked at it, I realized not only was it way smaller than the one Francis had, but that I had no idea how to use the fucking thing.
I mean sure, stab them with the pointy end and all, but it was clear from everything Toni had tried to tell us, and from the way he was controlling the blade right now, that I would be easily outmatched by her brother. My eyes flashed around the room.
I was running out of time, so I grabbed the only thing I saw that might be heavy enough to do some damage.
Every cabin, every building, every enclosed space around camp had a full-size fire extinguisher pinned to the walls.
After all, we were over an hour from the nearest town and fire department, so one out-of-control fire and every single building would be burnt to the ground before they ever got out here.
I ripped it off the wall, its weight catching me off guard for a second, before I braced, heaving it up by the nozzle and running as fast as I could back to Abbi’s cabin.
This time, I didn’t stop to look in the window. There was no time.
The second I was through the door; I swung the red extinguisher to the left with all my strength. The force sent my whole body spinning but I was rewarded with a hollow thwack that told me I’d hit something. Or someone. Mitchell was slumped, unconscious against the wall.
“brENNON!” Toni shrieked, just in time for me to turn and catch Francis as he vaulted towards me, knife bared.
I swung the fire extinguisher out in front of me, missing him entirely.
Still, he jumped back, standing just out of reach of my makeshift weapon.
I was desperate to check on my girl, but I knew that any distraction and that fucker would be all over me.
And if it came down to a fight, I would lose.
He watched me, eyes twisting from the fire extinguisher to Riley’s knife, now clutched in my other hand.
He was like a beast stalking its prey, even smiling his twisted fucking smile.
“Should I be scared of the big bad rockstar?” he taunted, laughing.
“Maybe if you were Michaels, or even the other one. He seems like a wiry fucker. But you,” he scoffed, “Snapping those ugly neck tattoos in half will take about as much effort as cracking an egg.”
I’ve spent the better part of my twenty-two years, baiting Cole Michaels into doing stupid shit.
I know how not to rise to a challenge, especially one that would end with both me and my girl dead in this goddamn cabin.
So, I just kept swinging my arms violently, from side to side.
I could see his frustration getting the better of him, he inched toward me, his teeth bared, jaw locked. My turn to taunt this motherfucker.
“You’re going to rip me in half, huh? You sick fuck.”
One quick look at my poor Birdie and I already regretted the next words out of my mouth, but based on everything I’d witnessed tonight, they were the ones guaranteed to throw him off.
“How does it feel knowing I’ve had everything you ever wanted, huh?”
He shook, practically vibrated, which only got worse as I said, “She begged me, you know, practically begged to suck my cock. Got down on those pretty knees and-”