05
It used to be difficult for me to sleep, but since I found her, falling asleep isn’t even an option. Knowing that she’s only a few miles away is pure agony. Her sweet vanilla scent gets into my system when I approach the bed. That hasn’t changed. I have many things planned for my little demon.
I run my fingers over her face. Every touch is like being in hell itself.
I go even further, bringing my nose closer to the curve of her neck as I leave chaste kisses until I reach her ear.
She, still asleep, stirs a little from the tickling sensation.
She looks so goddamned angelic that I have to repress the urge to cut off her head and put it in a glass box.
My gaze drifts to her lips, and I pull back a little.
I trace their outline with my finger, utterly captivated by her warm skin, vanilla fragrance, and the slow rhythm of her breathing. So full of life.
“It’s impossible for you to run away from me. I’ll always find you. Even if it takes me my whole damn life.” My words are a firm, harsh statement.
My gaze flies to her stomach, now exposed, finding a piercing in her belly button.
When did she get that? And what else have I missed in her life?
My fingers slide across her skin, forming a line to the waist of her black silk shorts.
I moisten my lower lip, my stomach turning.
I’m hungry to taste her, but my madness hasn’t gone that far yet.
I focus again on her face with noticeable dissatisfaction because of the painful tent in my pants.
The sunlight filtering into the room is a stark reminder that I need to leave soon.
Before I go, I look at the corkboard above the desk.
Photos from different years cover it, but I focus more on those where she looks younger, perhaps around ten years old, and I feel nostalgic.
I want to squeeze her in my arms until her body says enough and she can’t breathe anymore.
Then I focus on a picture where she is embracing a boy I don’t recognize.
I’ve barely closed my lids for over twenty minutes this morning, but that’s not why I’m in a bad mood.
My head hasn’t stopped spinning with how many more she’s been able to have a romantic relationship with, overshadowing ours.
That made me furious. Shit. I’m still furious, but I’ll take care of ripping the souls out of those who dared to touch her straight to hell.
Having set their sights on her had put an end to their miserable lives.
“Shall we go?” I turn my head when I hear Polina, the little girl my father had brought home a few years ago, speaking impatiently from the doorway. We are not best friends, but with time I learned to bear her. Maybe even like her.
Giving nothing more than a nod in response, I walk over to my motorcycle.
She follows behind me along with some of my men as I drive at a speed that borders on illegal.
During the trip, her face flashes before me as a cruel illusion that almost brings me to the brink of an accident.
I am not in my right mind. I still can’t get used to the effects she has on me.
I’ve always known she would be my death.
Maybe that’s why I tried to end her when I was a kid and barely knew her.
Like an impulsive act of survival. But I wouldn’t know how to breathe without her.
I had already tried, and it shattered what little remained of my soul.
Climbing the stairs to the office, I hear screams that echo throughout the entire building. The instant I open the door, everyone falls silent and lowers their heads.
“What the hell is going on now?” I mutter, putting a cigarette between my lips.
I glance at the girl who is about to cower in a corner.
The tight dress makes her belly more prominent.
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” I say with an incredulous grimace before pulling out a knife.
The man’s gaze widens, alarmed. “You can’t touch the merchandise.
Under any fucking circumstance,” I warn in a calm voice.
“It’s not what you think! That bastard isn’t mine.”
“Yes, it is! You forced me,” the girl claims before bursting into tears.
She can’t be over twenty years old, but with her makeup and clothing, she looks older.
The first of many things that changed when my father started handing over all his dirty business to me is the age of the women who work in our clubs.
As well as getting rid of other types of businesses that still twist my guts.
Of course, that doesn’t guarantee that the motherfucker isn’t still trafficking and doing whatever he wants without my knowledge.
I raise both eyebrows with a smile before taking another drag on my cigarette.
“So now you’re forcing people?” I ask, exhaling smoke, my voice more relaxed than I want it to be.
“Of course not. She’s lying. She’s covering for a client.”
“Lie to me again and I’ll sew your fucking mouth shut.”
“I’m not lying to you. I swear.” My smile widens.
“You’ve got balls.” My eyes scan him from head to toe with disdain, lingering on his crotch. “I’ll make you swallow them.”
“Please! Wait. We can work something out.”
Ignoring his screams, I approach him and strip him naked from the waist down while my men hold him down from behind.
Then I stab him with the knife at the base of his penis.
The crimson liquid first flows like a torrent down the inside of his thighs, then increases until it forms a pool on the table.
His testicles feel warm and soft in my hand, while his pubic hair brushes against my palm as I hold them firmly, his desperate screams becoming distant.
When I have them in my hands, I smile, running the piercing over my fangs. Everything is covered in crimson. Polina recoils from the smell of rusted iron and sweat. She hugs the girl tightly, pulling her head to her chest so she won’t see me force a testicle into his mouth.
“Swallow,” I demand with an impatient gleam in my eyes, pushing the flesh down his throat. Some of the skin gets trapped between his teeth when he tries to get them out of his mouth.
He manages to chew a couple of times before his stomach shakes wildly and he ends up puking on himself. Part of the testicles, crushed by his teeth, ends up on the ground, on a yellowish and reddish stain.
“Change of plans,” I say, realizing that I don’t have the tools I need to sew his mouth shut.
I take almost no effort to insert the knife into his mouth and cut the tendons of his tongue in a quick, effortless cut. The crimson fluid quickly gushed out, causing him to choke on it and the remains of his balls.
“Clean up all this shit and call a fucking ambulance. I don’t feel like finding a replacement for this fucking idiot,” I say as I light another cigarette. The stench of iron, sweat and vomit soon evaporates with the smoky scent of tobacco.
“What’s going to happen to the girl?” Polina asks behind me in a whisper.
“Do whatever you want with her. Just don’t bring me any more trouble.” Before leaving, I glance over my shoulder and talk. “If you ever lay your hands on any of them again, you can forget about your limbs.”
His eyes remain fixed on mine, pain still visible in them before they close completely. His chest continues to rise and fall, barely noticeable to others, although I didn’t hit him very hard. If he had suffered the same fate as my uncle, I’m sure he would have passed out before even starting.
A new message vibrates in my jeans pocket as I straddle the bike and start the engine. I take it out and read it.
Denis: Liam. 25.3289o N, 52.1854o E
Four years ago in St. Petersburg, Russia
Age 19
I rang the apartment bell for the second time.
On the other side, something fell to the floor, followed by a ‘fuck, I’m coming’.
Soon, footsteps approached us, and someone unlocked the door, opening it.
His angry face relaxed when he saw me, his lips stretched into a smile revealing his rotten teeth hidden behind dental veneers.
“Your father didn’t tell me you were coming.” He scanned my body with that look that, far from changing over the years, had only intensified. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re all grown up.”
My insides twisted with revulsion, but my expression remained impassive.
That’s when he noticed the presence behind me, his brows furrowing as he saw the gore on my companion’s fingers.
My fist smashed into his nose before he could continue to inquire about what was happening, blood splattering my knuckles and face.
His scream echoed off the walls of the hallway with an unpleasant echo, but not a soul would come to help him. We had taken care of them.
He opened and closed his eyes, trying to adjust to the intense light in the bedroom. Confusion flashed through his mind in a burst that faded. Every pore expressed rage as he realized that someone had tied his wrists and ankles to the bed. All clothing had been removed from his body.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He thrashed wildly on the mattress in a futile attempt to free himself. “Let me go.”
Denis appeared from behind, holding a rifle with barbed wrapped around the barrel.
“Are you a top or a bottom, sweetheart?” he asked mockingly. His smile reflected how much he was enjoying the situation, perhaps even more than I was, despite it being something I had been waiting for years.
All the false courage he had always used to attack innocent lives vanished, revealing his true self.
“W-what are you going to do with that?” he stammered, an incredulous look on his face. Then he turned to Denis. “Who are you?”
“The one who’s going to make you scream like a bitch.” A dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes, his lips stretching even further.