Chapter 14 #3
Whoops. There I go again, slipping into my thoughts like they were reality.
We haven’t done that part outside my head yet.
“You’re not cutting off my dick. You’re not feeding it to anyone.
And you sure as hell are not leaving here alive.
Or in one piece for that matter.” I patted his cheek playfully.
“Now, now. Don’t look so scared, old friend.
” I raised my arms high and pointed at the Happy Birthday banner across the room.
I had crossed out the word “Birth” and replaced it with “Death.” A masterful piece of art, if you’d asked me.
My mother might not agree. She might not see the artistic vision like I did.
Then again, my taste in art had always been a tad darker than hers. “Cheer up. This is your party!”
He looked at me with a mixture of hate and fear and spat at me. But I could see it sinking in. His conviction of walking out of here alive was faltering.
“That’s the spirit! Let the fun begin!” I said as I yanked the nails out of him, only to grate it over the skin on his chest, cleaving it as I slowly pulled it down. I laughed at his cries, like his men had laughed at mine.
“That’s it! Louder! Let heaven hear your screams, you piece of shit. Show my mother how sorry you are.”
After a while, and a few of my Deathday souvenirs later, Anderson had passed out.
What a pussy. I hadn’t even gotten to the best ones yet. I paced the room, while I waited for him to wake up again. The headache that always plagued me was returning. It’s been worse since I opted out of sleeping.
The blood was turning sticky on my hands, making them itch.
I wiped it on my pants. My black shirt was sticking to my stomach, drenched in Anderson’s blood, but you could barely see it.
It was one of the reasons I liked black clothes so much.
It hid the blood well. And I absolutely loved bathing in Anderson’s blood.
An image of Ava in her black dress from our last night, flashed across the room.
She’d looked like a fucking goddess, descending those stairs.
It had gutted me when I’d caught on to what the black outfit represented for her.
She had worn it with such pride that it almost made me change my mind.
But that’s the power of my special brand of darkness; it swayed her to willingly turn herself into a monster to please me, without her even noticing it. Little by little. Day by day.
It had to be done. I would not be my father.
Maybe I could convince Gemma to strap me to the torture table when I was through with Anderson. With the way she’d been looking at me, I’m sure she would do a number on me. Like I deserved.
This morning, Hunter had told me that they’d stuck Ava in a mental institution, and I damned near lost my mind.
Well… the small piece I had left. It had taken every ounce of self-control, crafted over the years, to not break down every last fucking door of that place to go get my girl.
Fuck, the urge was still there underneath my ribs, barely contained.
If I had to, I would lock myself with Anderson in his cage. But I wouldn’t ruin it for her. I wouldn’t ruin her chance of freedom and safety. A real life again.
I had no doubt that Becket would show up at Anderson’s building.
Like he showed up at the bank after we robbed it.
How that cunning bastard knew it was us at that bank, I would very much like to wring out of him.
And now they have footage of us. Because I broke one of my most important rules.
I got distracted. I’d been thoughtless, reckless.
I hadn’t covered all my bases. My inaction had left Hunt’s and Gem’s faces plastered all over the FBI database.
Because I had locked myself in a room and cried like a fucking baby for two days straight.
I pulled my hand through my hair, realising too late that it was still covered in blood. I was a fucking mess. And my family was paying the price.
I had to keep a level head. I had to keep the goal in sight.
Ava would be fine. She’s strong. She survived me.
She could survive this. She will go home.
Where it was safe. With parents who adored her.
With friends who loved her without having to change her, without being a danger to her.
The whole goddamned town had mourned her so deeply, everything was shut down for a week straight while they searched and prayed and searched some more.
How could they not? A fucking angel had been taken from them.
And maybe, with time, she’ll forgive me for giving her back. Maybe she’ll come to understand that I’d done her a kindness by letting her go.
My arrogance and stupidity, to think that I could keep her safe in my world, had been astounding. Delusional. Fucking fictitious.
I bit my lip so hard, the tangy taste of blood filled my mouth.
Anderson stirred on the table, and I collected myself. I rearranged my shattered pieces into the resemblance of a man once more.
I had never been pestered with guilt to do the right thing, but I would do right by my princess.
The knife I picked up scraped over the steel table as I dragged the tip of the blade across it, slowly making my way to Anderson.
The eardrum-piercing screech it produced was enough assault on my senses that it pulled me back out of my mind, back to reality. Yes, I would stay away from her.
“Rise and shine, old man,” I almost sang. He jolted awake at my voice, giving me a pang of satisfaction. Yes, he should be scared.
“I promised to cut your tongue out in front of the most exquisite woman we’ve ever laid eyes on. You wouldn’t make a liar out of me, would you?” That beautiful woman was now laughing up at me from the other side of Anderson.
He finally registered his surroundings and immediately started begging. He cried like a child as I dragged the knife up under his chin, keeping the precious apparition of my witch in my periphery. He almost sounded like little Abby in her final moments.
I laughed at him, at his pleading as I strapped his head to the table.
This was fucking fun. If I’d known it would be so easy to break him, I could’ve had my diamond a long time ago.
He was the feared Charles Anderson. The mighty, ruthless butcher that knew no limits and feared no consequences. But look at him now.
Maybe more than the reputation, it’d been my own childish perception of him—a larger than life, depraved, dark entity, looming over my life, with the power to take everything from me without anyone daring to challenge him on it—that had me thinking he was so untouchable.
I had tiptoed around him all these years, to find out he was just a pathetic, slimy little worm, so easily squished that I had to rein myself in to keep him alive a little longer.
I wrangled a clamp into his mouth and forced his jaw open.
By now he was screaming. But that wouldn’t deter me.
Oh, it had the opposite effect. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, letting the sound slither through me.
God, it sounded so fucking good. I bet his fear would sound even better with no tongue.
I’ve wanted to cut his tongue out since the moment he’d stuck it down Ava’s throat. And that want roared through me again, when he called my girl stupid… and a whore… and a bitc—Why had I let him keep it that long?
I grabbed a hold of Anderson’s tongue, and he went deathly quiet, his eyes bulging out with fear.
“Don’t take it personally, old chap. But I gotta defend my princess’ honour.
You understand, right?” I declared as I watched him piss all over himself.
I expected him to have more dignity than that.
Ava had more fight in her than this sad sod.
“At least you had the privilege of tasting her mouth before I could take your tongue. It was fucking heaven, wasn’t it?
” I chuckled. “Who knew a couple of sick fucks like us would ever experience heaven?”
I pressed the knife against the back of his tongue.
It was for her own good that I was as far away from her as possible.
And I might not be any better than them, but I would make sure that these fuckers that dared to wrong her, would suffer.
I would make them beg for her forgiveness. Even if I was the only one hearing it.
I let go of his tongue. “Maybe if you say sorry for calling our little slice of heaven those names, I will spare your tongue.” It was cruel to give him hope like this.
I liked it.
He cried as he tried to form words with the clamp keeping his mouth open. His tongue flailed pathetically around in his mouth as he apologised profusely.
What a piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve her forgiveness. None of us do.
Making this small-dicked, excuse of a man writhe for his sins against her was the only redemption I would dare to take.
This was the only way I would dare to declare my excruciating, down-to-the-fucking-marrow-of-my-bones love for her.
Because what I felt didn’t matter. As long as she was safe, and her light shining bright, I could breathe.
It was all I needed to keep my lungs filled with air.
So, I’d resigned to lurk in the shadows of her life.
Deciding to keep tabs on Ava was the only way I had the strength to leave her.
She would not know of my presence. I would be her guardian devil, as she once called me.
Unseen, unfelt. Ready to destroy anyone who dared to take out her light.
More than I already have. I gritted my teeth against the pain of that realisation, letting it shred through me like I deserved.
All of us, all the men who’d tried to take from her, deserved this pain. And I would make sure they felt it.