50. Chapter 49
Chapter 49
Maeve Henderson
What was I thinking?
I don't know if I'm willing to watch four people die, but I'm also not willing to live in a world where I know four rapists got away with what they've done and will probably do it again. I guess I'm all in.
Either way, the fear and anxiety of the unknown has me on edge all morning.
Leon woke up like it was any other morning, whistling happily as he got up and made coffee and breakfast for us both, but how can he eat when we’re about to kill people?
I’m fidgeting, biting my nails, curling and flicking my toes, and even picking at my pajamas until I accidentally create a string that pulls half of the stitches out.
I feel anxious and I can't even explain why. I haven't done anything yet, and I have no obligation to do anything. So why am I so uneasy? Why can't I get the sinking feeling of dread out of my bones?
Leon takes hold of my hand, I wonder if he notices that I haven't eaten a bite? I bet he has. He notices everything about me. "You don't have to go with me, I promise you. I won't feel any differently about you if you back out." He says calmly.
That is reassuring, but I don't know if I would feel the same about myself if I backed out.
I also don't know if I'll ever feel the same if I don't back out.
Will I still be me if I sit back and let people die?
I don't think I'll still be me if I help kill people.
"I'm going." I say confidently.
I'm not sure if I'm going to help him, but I'm at least going with him. I don't even know where we're going. I walked straight into the house to take a shower last night, and I know I sat in there for far too long. The water was cold by the time I got out, so I really have no idea where he took those guys.
"Okay, fleur. No pressure." He says. He squeezes my hand lightly and resumes with his breakfast. I'm still not sure how he can be so calm right now.
By the time breakfast is over, I'm a fidgeting mess. I know these guys, well kind of, but they know who I am. They’ve been to the house to hang out with Sean and Carlie.
It's just now hitting me that they're going to beg me for mercy. I don't know if I could hear that.
Maybe I'll just run when they get to the mercy part?
Leon guides me down to the basement when he’s ready, wearing clothes that look far too casual for the man I know.
The man I know wears fancy pants, name brands, and department store stuff that cost more than my rent. He cares about labels and styles his hair even when he doesn’t leave the house.
This version of him is foreign to me, the version where he’s wearing box store jeans and a simple white t-shirt without a label on it. His hair is still styled, but it just doesn’t feel like him.
Maybe I was right all along about the two personalities…
The silver eye, the terrifying and cold man wears cheap clothes and is a little crazy; he kills people in his spare time and kidnaps college girls. The warm blue side wears designer clothes and is sweet, charming, and successful.
“Do you have a split personality?” I blurt out while he leads me downstairs to what I can only assume is a medieval torture chamber.
He stops, spinning around and staring at me with a chuckle. “No. What would make you think that?” He asks casually.
He stops in front of a large metal door, one that looks like it belongs to a freezer, while punching in a long code on a keypad, and the reality of the situation hits me.
There are people on the other side of that door, probably shackled to the wall with old rusty chains and a hangsman guarding them in the black cloak.
Or will Leon wear the cloak?
“Do you have a cloak?” I ask. Why can’t I filter the things that come out of my mouth right now?
Why can’t I stop talking and just see what’s on the other side?
“Ma fleur, are you okay? You know you can go back upstairs, right?” He asks genuinely.
I give a short nod, sucking in a deep breath as I stare at the intimidating door that separates me from the unknown of my future.
I know that going through that door is something I can’t come back from, that even if I do nothing but sit there and watch, I’ll never be the same.
“I’m fine, sorry. Let's do this.” I say as confidently as I can manage.
Once the clinical white lights turn on, I'm glad I haven't been down here before now.
While it may not be what I had pictured, It's cold and terrifying anyway. Metaphorically and actually cold.
Everything is sterile looking and stainless steel or white. The only color in the room is the four men heavily strapped to cold metal tables. They're thrashing and yelling about how we're going to die and don't we know who they are.
"Shut up!" Leon snaps.
If I was talking, I'd shut up.
Heck, I even straightened my posture when he yelled.
"We're going to have a chat." Leon says calmly. Yet again, I'm reminded how cold and terrifying Leon can be, but I'm glad it isn't toward me.
"Fuck you!" One of the guys yells. I don't even know his name, I just know he's on the football team and his dad is rich. Like buy you a country type rich.
Leon does a little "tsk" but doesn't respond otherwise and walks further into the room that he'd locked behind us. "You can have a seat, ma petite fleur." He says calmly to me.
His hand trails down my cheek as he does so in a gesture that is sweet despite where we are.
So, I do. I take a seat at a small rolling stool that I assume is for him to rest his leg on while he heads into one of the large cabinets along the wall.
"What do you think, my love? Should I start off with something small like cuts? Or are we playing with fire?" Leon asks with his focus on me.
I gulp, unsure of what answer he wants from me, I’m not sure of anything right now.
"Untie us you stupid bitch!" Mark yells, turning his head to look at me, and I must say, he looks rough. His nose looks broken and crooked, there’s blood dried on his mouth and his nose, and it almost looks like he has a few teeth missing.
Did Leon beat him up last night? I clearly missed something here.
"That's not very nice." I say to him.
I'm not the one who tied him up and I'm certainly not the one who raped a woman.
"Fuck you! When I get out of here, you're fucking dead! I'll fucking kill you and fuck your corpse, bitch!" He yells. He even goes as far as to spit on me.
Leon hands me an antibacterial wipe and runs his knuckles along my cheek in what I assume is a silent way of checking on me.
"I'm okay." I promise him.
Leon turns to look at Mark, his face terrifying and cold, like a mad man stalking his prey and I’m reminded of this very valid fear I have of him. "Threaten to harm my girl again and I will set you on fire and make her a fucking s'more with the flames of your body. I will use your pathetic cries and screams for mercy as music to slow dance across this room with her. Do not test me." He informs him.
Even I gulp at that.
"What's your plan?" I ask Leon. He turns and smiles down at me, his knuckles still gracefully tracing my cheekbone as he speaks. "I want them to tell me what they did to Abby so I can decide how they die." He explains.
"That bitch? She asked for it!" One of the guys yells.
Leon's mask slips and the cold face he wears is back as he stares at the men. "Asked for it? You mean by simply existing as a woman in your world? Or for going to a party that you attended? I know for a fact you had to bribe her friend to spike her drink since she was smart enough not to take a drink from strangers." Leon explains.
The same guy scoffs at his reply, and I know that infuriates him. "Burn." I chime in.
What am I saying?
I shouldn't be participating, but these guys so far seem like total jerks.
Leon smiles at me and heads into his cabinet of tools without a word.
“Okay, here is the game. You will all burn and I will continue to do so until all of my questions are answered. Answering my questions will grant you a small break from the flames while your friends suffer.” He states to the men while lighting his blowtorch.
“I’m not telling you shit! Do you even know who my dad is? You’re going to fucking rot for this, asshole!” One of the men snaps back.
The sickening grin that comes across Leon’s face makes me gulp, but he starts with this man, dragging the torch down his leg while this man screams in agony. “I’ll rot? Listen to me, Johnny, I don’t give a fuck who your daddy is, he can burn too for all I care. I want to know what happened to Abby and why.” He yells over this man’s screaming.
“Jack, don’t tell him shit!” Mark yells over the screaming.
That makes Leon stop with the torch and turn to grin at Mark. “That’s horrible advice, Marky. Things go smoother when you do as you're told. Can you behave for me? Can you be a good boy and speak when you’re spoken to? Or does this have to hurt more than it should?” He asks.
I assume something in Leon’s eyes makes these men realize that he’s not joking, that he’s insane and unhinged, because the other two start to answer questions whenever the fire gets close to them.
Still, it doesn’t spare them from the torch or Leon’s rage.
Somehow, I'm more sickened by their storytelling than I am of what Leon is doing.
He's leaving blisters along their chests, their forearms, the bottoms of their feet, their knees, and everywhere else he can reach.
The smell of burning flesh fills the room and a somewhat black smoke hangs in the air above us. He leaves a burn so severe on one of the guys that his screaming stops completely, he stares up at the ceiling with a dead silence that hangs over the rest of the group. "Jack! Wake the fuck up!" Mark yells, looking over at his friend, but Jack isn't dead I don't think, I think he's in shock.
Another one even throws up from the pain. That was gross.
Nothing is nearly as sickening as these men somewhat proudly telling the story of how they spiked Abby's drink and dragged her to the basement of this party and had their way with her.
One even brags about her trying to limp home in the morning, but too sore and too beat up to even walk, so she gave up and laid on the floor under the stairs in an attempt to hide from these men.
I want to be sick just from hearing about this. I want to hug Abby and never let go of her. It's sick how little shame they have for what they have done.
When Leon told them that Abby was on suicide watch because she feared she was pregnant, one laughed, another said he'd take the baby and give it to his mom.
Respectfully, I don't think his mother is suitable to raise a child considering how he turned out.
What is wrong with these guys?
"Which one of you spiked the drink?" Leon asks calmly.
"It was Tony!" Mark cries out immediately.
"Fuck you! It was you who paid the bitch to spike it!" Tony yells back.
Leon slams his hand down onto the table while the two bicker. "Enough!" He yells. Both instantly fall silent. "Since you can't decide. I'll treat you all equally." He says calmly.
It blows me away how calm Leon can be during such a strange time. I'm doing everything I can not to throw up from the smell of urine, throw up, and burnt flesh. Yet he's just standing there with the same composure that he would if he were standing in line at the supermarket.
Leon ends up putting what he called an IJ into their necks; he says that's different from an IV. I don't know. He's the professional here, but he hooks them up to something in a glass jar. "Since you wanted to drug Abby's drink, we're going to let you all sit and enjoy this nice little concoction I have for you." Leon says calmly.
"What is it?" I ask curiously. Leon smiles at me, and I melt at the look I'm being given right now, like I'm the entire solar system to him. "It's embalming fluid, ma fleur. They will suffer an excruciating and somewhat slow death. Their organs will slowly shut down, maybe even melt. Their tissue will break down, their veins will burn until they're uncontrollably bleeding into their own bodies, their lungs will fail and their brains will shut down." He explains to me.
I raise an eyebrow at him, like the stuff they put in bodies to preserve them? How does he even get a hold of this stuff? It makes me nervous, but for some reason, turned on that he's so resourceful.
Maybe I am sick.
Leon said in the shower the other day that I have something dark in me, maybe he's right? Maybe I am twisted like he is.
Maybe the twisted and dark parts of ourselves can fit together.
“Take your panties off, ma fleur.” He says out of nowhere and I think my eyes bulge out of my head.
“What?” I ask, just to make sure that I didn’t hallucinate what he’d just asked of me.
He takes several large steps until he’s in front of me and grabs onto my hips, lifting me onto a cold metal table. “I said take your fucking panties off. No worries, ma fleur, I can do it for you if you won’t listen.” He says against my lips.
Despite the smells in this room, all I can focus on is how close to me he is and how he’s standing between my legs. When his fingers slide underneath my shorts and into my underwear, I think my brain shuts down. “Hmm, so wet at a time like this? Naughty naughty girl.” He teases.
I think my face is every shade of red that exists, but again, I can’t focus on anything else. Even as these men scream, cry, and beg for mercy, I can only focus on Leon’s fingers sliding inside of me.
He curls his fingers into me, pumping slowly while his teeth dig harshly into my bottom lip until a very faint coppery taste takes over his kiss, and I whine into his mouth. “That’s my little masochist, cum.” He says firmly.
I rock my hips in the motion of his hand, feeling how far he is inside of me and feeling myself getting closer and closer to what I know will be an embarrassing orgasm that several people will witness, but it’s inevitable.
When his thumb flicks the piercing through my sensitive clit, I scream into his mouth and let him swallow the sounds of my orgasm.
The screaming that echoes in the room around us only spur on the pleasure of his fingers pumping into me and my pussy pulsing around them. “Please.” I whine, not even sure what I’m begging for.
“Shh, keep going, ma fleur.” He mumbles against my lips before finally giving me a kiss that doesn’t involve teeth.
I feel myself twitch in his arms, but he holds me steadily against him until my orgasm subsides and I sag in his embrace, only then does he pull his fingers from me.
I feel hazy while he lifts my hips and pulls both my underwear and my shorts off, but I grab onto his wrist to stop him, not wanting them to see me exposed. “You’ll get your shorts back.” He reassures me.
I watch while Leon rounds the table to Mark and grins down at him. “You wanted to spit on my love, so now you get a very fortunate treat. You’ll never scream again, but the last thing you’ll ever taste is my wife’s pussy. I hope it was worth it.” He explains.
There it goes again, my face is so hot that I think I’m sweating.
I can’t tell if this possessive display is arousing, embarrassing, or terrifying.
Maybe all of the above.
“Fuck you!” Mark shouts, but Leon grips onto his chin so tightly that he howls in pain seconds before my underwear is jammed into his mouth.
“Again, I hope it was worth it.” Leon explains as he opens what I have to assume is a tube of superglue and permanently silences Mark, just as he promised.
"This will take a while, possibly days. How about we head upstairs?" Leon asks me.
I nod, feeling uneasy about their suffering but somehow also feeling lighter that they paid for what they did to Abby, or maybe it’s just the incredible orgasm that was just forced out of me; who knows?
Who cares?
"I will handle their bodies. You never have to see them again." He promises me.
I stand up and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging onto him while the men scream out in agony behind us, but their suffering is on deaf ears when Leon smiles at me like I'm the center of his universe. "I love you." I finally say to him.
I feel like maybe I've felt this for a while.
Maybe I've known all along and just refused to admit it until now.
In a way, this feels like a fresh start.