32. Chapter Thirty-Two #2
He used mom to get access to me. That information doesn’t provide much comfort, aside from knowing Mom was clueless.
I push the blade farther into his skin, about two inches.
Blood spews from the cut and flows down his chest. He cries out, his pain making me happy.
Now he knows exactly what pain he put me through.
“And ...you..” Oliver stutters against the anguish, face turning red. He forces himself to peer up at Jackson. “Kidnapper... you... think yourself better than me?”
“I don't want to fuck little girls,” Jackson replies, bored.
“But know aside from that, what makes me better is that I'm on this side of the situation. Either way, you’re dead.” Jackson turns his attention to me, his gaze goes down to the knife, asking me silently to continue with the torture.
In truth, there's nothing more to say. Only to do.
Oliver must understand that too, as the sound of his laughter breaks up my thoughts.
It’s a noise close to that of a lunatic.
Oliver breathes in and releases another laughing fit, completely coming unglued.
“You can kill me, little girl. Just remember, I'll always be a part of you.” He smiles widely.
“I'll always be the one that used you first. You'll never be able to escape from that.”
“But I'll be the last,” Jackson interjects. “I'll be the one to fuck her every day for the rest of her life, and I'll do whatever she needs to forget you ever existed.”
I pray to God, even though I shouldn't. I don't think God will forgive me for what I'm about to do.
My heart pounds loudly against my chest. I swear I'm wailing out screams. But I can't hear myself.
The only noise in the room is that of my knife piercing Oliver's skin.
My arms move freely as Oliver takes one stab after the other.
Blood splashes onto my face and hair. It covers the walls, all the way down to the floorboards.
“Fuck, little fire, you're doing so well, but you are not hitting anything any major organs that way.”
I glanced down and realize what he says is true.
I've just been hitting him wherever the blade lands.
His arms, thighs, on the side of his hip.
Oliver struggles to breathe as Jackson grabs his throat.
I wouldn't mind him dying by strangulation.
It's supposed to be a horrible, long way to go.
But that's not quite good enough, stepdad. “Help me cut his dick off.”
Jackson's eyes light up. He lets go of Oliver's throat to come to my aid. “I like it,” he says.
“No. Not that,” Oliver chokes out. He attempts to wiggle out of his restraints, but it does no good.
I eye his shrunken dick lying across his upper thigh and shudder at the thought that I had to fuck it. Nausea forms in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I shouldn’t take it this far.
Jackson, sensing my hesitation, says, “I hold, you cut it off?”
I swallow, debating whether I really can.
Oliver’s knees jolts upward, almost colliding with my nose.
Jackson doesn’t wait for me to answer. He headbutts Oliver and just like that, Oliver goes lax.
Taking Oliver’s cock with a thumb and index finger, he pulls it so that I've got a clear shot with the knife.
Jackson's forehead is bleeding slightly as he glances up at me to finish the job.
I take a deep breath. The blade sails through the air and collides with Oliver's outstretched dick. It cuts it about halfway through. Skin and tissue go everywhere, but the knife won't go any further without actively slicing through the meat.
Oliver screams, his efforts confide within the walls of the bathroom. Sweat forms and drops into my eyes, making it hard to see. “Why didn’t it just go all the way through?” I ask while still slicing.
Jackson shrugs. “Must be dull from all the other stabbings. Let me help.” His hand covers mine over the knife, and he provides just enough force to get the ball rolling.
This turn of events would sicken any other girl.
Her kidnapper playing romantic while actually murdering someone. I can not help but be touched. Kinda.
Once my skin felt his, my body wanted something else entirely. Not revenge. Not the dick I'm slicing. But Jackson. All of him. Right here in front of my dying stepfather. But that is my body, not my mind. I have not forgotten Jackson's plans for me.
One last slice brings me too, and Oliver's dick drops in the bottom of the tub. Blood gushes out of him and covers every inch of the tub’s surface. Oliver’s body jerks while he's breathing becomes sporadic. Seeing him this way is enough for me, but apparently not for Jackson.
He snatches the dick and brings it to Oliver's lips. “Didn’t I tell you if you reacted with your cock again, you would choke on it? And what did you do? You made Madelyn stroke it.”
Oliver’s eyes pop open just as Jackson shoves the mutilated cock in his mouth as far as it will go. Using both hands, he clamps Oliver's mouth shut. He thrashes, veins popping out of his neck and forehead. I never thought someone could actually choke to death on a dick, but here it is happening.
Blue and red replace Oliver's dull skin color. His movements slow as blood trickles out of his nose. I don't know how to feel, and I wonder if what I just did makes me a sick human being.
Oliver lets out a small gargle and then goes still. Jackson keeps his hold for a few more seconds, but only looks at me. His eyes shine as if he has just gotten a hit from the most lethal drug in the world.
Maybe he has. Murder is a dangerous hobby.
I think about dropping the knife, but I remember what's supposed to happen next. Even if he claimed I was now safe. It's too good to be true. I just know that look. Jackson is still out for blood. And I'm next.