Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
EMMETT
Rescue - Lauren Daigle
The next couple of days consist of Grimm and I hunting down everyone involved in Blair’s auction and sale. Not wanting to waste any more time, each person gets a quick death.
Not the death they deserve, but as long as their putrid souls are expelled from this earth and they’re rotting in the soil, I can live with that. One gunshot to the head and one gunshot to the heart, and then we’re moving on.
A few of the buyers I have yet to kill are next on my list. These are the men who I’m familiar with, the ones who caused my childhood and innocence to be stripped from me. The ones that created the phantom feeling of hands on my skin when I let my mind wander back to that dark time.
According to Eli , the men who liked to touch little boys still get together for poker night and drinks. Every Friday , they gather at th e tables of Devil’s Debt , a shady casino located just outside of town. Eli doesn't know the small detail of their involvement in my past, just that they need to be eliminated because of their association with selling Blair . Thankfully , he isn't the type to ask questions.
The three of them still hanging out doesn't surprise me in the slightest, they probably indulge in circle jerks after their poker matches. I'm less surprised that they’re all involved in human trafficking. They were always sick fucks, it makes perfect fucking sense.
Eli managed to find the names of every person who had been involved in that day, every person besides the buyer. The one who matters the most. I don't know how his identity has been protected so heavily, but with each passing day, my darkness grows hungrier and my heart splinters further.
Grimm and I pull up to the gas station in the middle of bubblefuck nowhere to refuel. We don’t talk, and we don’t need to. He can feel the energy radiating off of me, and he knows these kills are different than any we’ve done before.
After we fill up our tanks, we make our way over to Devil’s Debt . The drive is silent, and I'm grateful for it right now. I don’t have anything to say. Pulling up to the casino, we cut our engines, and I take off my helmet while peering up at the building.
Dark and shady, just like every asshole inside. The neon sign with the name Devil’s Debt written in script flashes red. A black carpet is laid out, and purple ropes line the entryway. Two burly security guards, dressed in blacked-out suits, guard the doors.
I drop the magazine to double-check that it’s loaded, before looki ng over to Grimm and signaling that we can head inside. Being in the proximity of the men who had ruined my childhood makes my blood boil underneath my skin. Knowing that once I cross these doors, I’ll have no option but to face those who stole so much from me, that created the demon that’s been locked away until now, brings fear. But the taste of vengeance will be worth it.
Typically , I fight the feelings that arise when I think of them, when I think of my childhood and the irreparable damage that was done to me. Right now? I welcome it. I relish it. That pain, mixed with the fury swimming inside creates a deadly combination, one they’ll never have a chance of surviving.
No one will.
I’ll wipe the planet of every human until it's left with only two.
Me and Blair .
When we walk up to the doors, the bouncers ask for IDs . When the man sees my last name, he looks up at his colleague, and then immediately grants us access. This was a place my father frequented. “ Right this way, gentleman,” they say, holding out their arms as they walk us towards the stairs that lead to the basement of the building, reserved especially for VIP members of the casino.
If it wasn't for my father dragging me here relentlessly, instead of letting me play team sports or video games like a normal fucking child, I wouldn’t have known about the VIP section the casino held. It's different from the normal VIP that other civilians can access. This is the seedier VIP , the one where most d eals end with sexual favors or death, sometimes both.
We make our way down the red carpeted stairs and I chuckle at the sight. It's fitting that these carpets are the same color as the crimson that will cover the casino tonight, it'll blend right in. “ Right through these doors. A game is in session currently. Let us know if you need anything.” He says, dipping his head as he makes his way back in the direction we came from.
A smirk lifts on my lips at how easy this was. What a bunch of fucking idiots. The usual panic that courses through my veins is being stomped down by the rage that shadows it. The blood pumps in my ears as imagery of their brain matter splattered across the BlackJack table, covering the dealer and all remaining players, flashes through my mind.
We may be targeting specific men for a specific reason, but hopefully, this display of affection shows everyone to not fuck with what is mine . The feeling leaves no room for anything other than destruction.
KILL .
Grabbing the doorknob, I fling the door open and take aim at the ceiling. The shot rings out around us and the spot where I aimed crumples as drywall and paint flutter to the floor. Their heads whip in our direction as they reach for their own weapons.
Before they get the chance, Grimm and I begin firing round after round. He shoots them in a way that wounds them but won’t kill, only immobilize them. It's as if he knows that I need to be the one to do this, to finish them off. He can sense I’m doing it for Blair but also for myself .
Their curses flood the room as they reach and grab the limbs we’ve shot, rather than their weapons. One of them reaches again for his gun when I speak, “ Don’t even fucking think about it.” I snarl. “ Pick it up and I won’t hesitate to blow your hand and your head off. More fun for us. Fucking try me.”
He drops the gun and raises his hands above his head. “ Kick your guns over here, now,” Grimm instructs, and without hesitation, they obey.
I look at each of them and my vision darkens. My heart rate accelerates seeing them as terrified as I was as a young boy sends a warm sensation up my spine. I let out a small laugh and walk closer to the table. I pace around, behind the men, their chests rapidly heaving from their adrenaline-fueled panic.
“ Should we play a game?” I ask, looking at the man farthest from me. His eyes widen with recognition. They made a fucking game out of my innocence. They laughed at me when I cried, when I attempted to run away. They laughed when their boss caught me and held me down.
They won’t be laughing tonight.
“ Here are the rules of the game: Pick a man, one of your colleagues at the table specifically, to be the first to die.” I look over at Mr . Ortiz . He’s taller with thick dark hair, but his build is a lot smaller compared to mine. He’s got three daughters, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was pimping them out and sampling the merchandise.
I circle the men, wondering which man they think is going to be the first to go. Unfortunately , for them, their guesses will mean nothing . Their lives are in my hands, and my patience is wearing thin.
“ On the count of three, I want you all to name my first victim,” I say, creating a tension so thick it could suffocate them. But I’d never make it that easy for them.
I draw out my voice in a low, eerie tone and start to count, savoring the anticipation of their death.
“ One ... Two ... Three !”
Before the men can announce their guesses, I pull out a blade from my pocket and slam it into the temple of Mr . Silva , the closest to me. I pry the knife from his skull, and blood sprays out, clouding my vision. I can’t help but smile. I plunge the knife into his jugular and remove it, repeatedly stabbing him. His wails are a sweet sound that I relish.
I don't stop.
I can't stop.
I'm vaguely aware of the screams that mix with Grimm’s concerned voice. Everything I do is calculated and planned. This … This is not. I relentlessly stab Silva , letting the blood that coats me wash away the darkness that the man had left behind. I don't stop until there are so many gashes in his head that he's no longer recognizable, and no longer breathing.
I feel fucking invincible. With every stab, a piece of my broken soul is slowly glued back together. Dropping my arm to my side, I pant heavily while staring down at the beautiful destruction I’ve caused. The sound of the others cursing and begging trickles back into my hearing.
“ Hey man, you good?” Grimm asks, concern etched on his face. The sound of his voice makes me slide my gaze from the piece of shi t to him. His eyebrows are pinched and he looks worried.
“ Yeah . I’m fucking fantastic,” I say with a huge toothy grin, stained with blood, no doubt making me look fucking psychotic.
I look over at the other sad excuses for men, Ortiz and Logan , who occupy the table. Turning to Grimm , I ask over my shoulder, “ Any word on Oscar’s location?”
As he pulls out his phone, he replies, “ No , not yet.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Until I find Oscar , I won’t find Blair . The thought sends a new wave of rage through me. My eyes shoot back open and lock onto Mr . Ortiz sitting across from where I stand. I can feel Roy’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my head to the left of me, but I refuse to look his way. He’ll get what’s coming to him, but I need to make him sweat. Mr . Ortiz whimpers and bargains for his life, spewing apologies at me, but I don’t want to hear it. He's many years too late. Not to mention, Grimm believes he’s referring to Blair and I’d like to keep it that way.
“ I’m so sorry. What we did was wrong, Mr . Blackwood . Please , don’t do this,” Mr . Ortiz begins to beg, “ What would your father think?”
I stalk over to his side of the table and pistol-whip him over the head. “ James was not my father, not to mention he’s fucking dead,” I laugh.
I watch as he looks up in horror, his eyes widen and scan my blood-coated face and teeth. I'm quickly slicing his neck open, the cut going from ear to ear. He gurgles on his own blood while it bubbles and pools out from his neck. Lifting my eyes from his open gash, I finally look over to Roy . When my eyes meet hi s, the feelings of disgust and pain run throughout my body.
It's as if thousands of miniature shards of glass are being impaled deep into my skin. Those pieces that were recently reconnected when I’d ended Mr . Silva’s life now come crumbling apart once again. I feel bile rise up my throat as the memories of the horrendous acts he committed toward me appear in front of my eyes. Swallowing the bile back down, I focus on dragging out his death and getting some fucking relief.
He laughs while looking at me. His eyes flick to my lips as he licks his own, building my rage. “ Did you miss me, Emmett ? Is that why you’re going through all this trouble? You know, you could have just called me. I would’ve come.” He says letting out a small chuckle with his innuendo, attempting to hide the fear in his voice, but it's there.
The voice in my head booms and shouts, he needs to die.
KILL .
I look down at the dead body in front of me and without hesitation, I'm unzipping his pants and pulling out his limp appendage. Grimm remains silent behind me as I cut out a piece of fabric from his pants and grab the disgusting flesh. There’s no way I’m touching that shit ever again.
I start to cut through it, the skin and muscles easily tear under my blade. Once removed, I toss the bloodied meat onto the table and repeat the action with the other piece of shit. “ That’s fucking brutal, but brilliant.” Grimm chuckles, covering his own junk like it's in danger.
Looking back at Roy , I pick up the severed meat and head his way. “ What are you doing?” he asks, confusion and fear lacing his voice. Making eye contact with Grimm , I nod towards Mr . Logan and he automatically knows what I’m asking for. He steps behind Roy and grabs his arms, wrapping them around the back of the chair. Roy screams out in pain, but Grimm keeps him in place.
“ Because you like limp dicks so much, I thought it’d be fitting if that's how you die.” I snarl. He opens his mouth to protest, giving me the opportunity to shove the dicks down his throat. I slap my hand over his mouth while he chokes and tries to spit the appendages out.
“ What’s the matter? You only like dicks in your mouth when they’re attached to little boys, you sick fuck?!” I yell.
With my knife still in hand, I ram it forward, stabbing him directly in the heart. I repeatedly stab him. Blood covers my body, and fills my senses.
Crimson is slowly becoming my favorite color.
With every single insertion of the knife into his skin, I feel another piece of my long-lasting pain fade away. I know it won't erase what has been done, the damage can never be reversed, but damn does it feel fucking good.
Despite the fact that he’s already dead, I don’t let up. I slice his skin open long after he choked on the severed dicks lodged in his throat. My arm burns with the exertion of my efforts. A manic laugh bubbles in my throat and slips out. I don't know how long I've been at it until Grimm is grabbing my arm and pulling me back.
“ Alright Emmett , he’s dead. Come on, let’s go.” He says, leading me to the exit.
I pull back and assess the damage I've inflicted. Their blood drips to the floor and blends into the crimson-colored carpet. The warm liquid coats my hands and face, my splattered shirt beautifully decorated.
Since this is a VIP section for those who have wealth and power, there is no shock from the workers as they come in and begin to dispose of the bodies. It’s a frequent occurrence in this business, in this world. One they don’t question, as long as it’s accompanied by dollar bills.
I grab a nearby towel on our way out and wipe my hands and face. I don't bother trying to clean off my shirt or under my nails. I need a fucking shower but I need my obsession more. Tossing the towel aside, I gather up my belongings, shoot a look over to Grimm , and storm out the door.
My fury swims through my body as the days drag on. I would’ve saved Blair before killing all these fucks if I knew where she was. James gave me the names of everyone involved yet the one fucker that’s the most imperative to find, has been the hardest to track down. The handler that moved her to the prick that bought her has been off the grid and impossible to locate. He’s the only person who knows where she is. But he can only hide from me for so long. Like a shark following the scent of blood, I will find him and make him beg for death.
We exit the casino doors and head over towards our bikes again. Starting them up, we make our way to the address that was given to us by Eli for Harold Clark .
I've been thinking about this for days. One moment I found out Blair was pregnant, and the next, I found out that my baby had been killed. I would never get to meet them, hold them, love them. I'd never get to give them the life I wasn’t privy to. No words were able to be strung together to express the depth of my fury when the realization struck.
The death coating my hands will seem like child's play compared to what I have in store for Harold Clark . The name alone causes vomit to rise in my throat and wrath to squeeze at my heart. I’ve had some time to construct the perfect method of torture. Not only did he hurt Blair , he killed my child. He messed with the most important people in my life.
When we arrive at the house, we make quick work of breaking in and making our way through his home to find him. We keep our steps light to not alert him of the intrusion. Coming towards a room with the door slightly ajar, I hear the faint sounds of conversation coming from beyond the barrier. Only hearing one voice, I assume he’s on the phone. A pleasant distraction.
He stands at the window, facing away from the doorway. Grimm signals for me to stand guard while he slips inside the room. Through the crack, I see him tiptoe toward Harold and once he hangs up the phone, Grimm is on him. He wraps his left arm around Harold’s front and his right comes up, wrapping around Harold’s throat.
“ Don’t fight or I will snap your neck.” Grimm threatens. He’s bluffing because he knows that I’ll be the one to end Harold's life. Within a few seconds, Harold is unconscious and Grimm drops him to the floor with a thud. I walk into the room, throwing Grimm a compliment for his job well done, and grab his ankles. Grimm wraps his arms underneath Harold’s armpits, making it easier to distribute his weight and carry him out of the room and to the kitchen.
We lift Clark onto his kitchen table, placing him on his stomach. Taking his hands, we tie them together using ropes then secure his bound hands to a nearby table leg. Repeating the same process with his feet, I jerk on the limbs, making sure he’s unable to move. He won’t be granted the slightest inch of freedom.
Searching the bag, I rummage through our tools and pull out the largest knife we have. The blade is long and thick at the base, merging into a small pointed tip. Lifting it up, I place the knife on the table next to him. This is for Blair , for me, and for our unborn child. I don't care to hear what he has to say. I spot a dishrag next to the sink and turn on the faucet. Snatching it, I run the dishrag under steaming hot water and ball up the fabric. Walking back over to him, I grab his jaw and open it, shoving the wet material inside.
It works in my favor right now that he’s passed out. Taking tape from the bag, I wrap it around his mouth and head multiple times to ensure security. Satisfied that he can’t speak and ruin this moment, I head back behind him and crawl onto the table, straddling his back.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Enjoying the peaceful silence for a moment longer before a beautiful harmony of muffled screams erupts from my newest victim.
Picking up the knife, I tip the blade and press it firmly against the top of his spine. Pressing the knife point into his neck, I watch as the skin starts to open under the blade and blood beads out. Harold instantly wakes up, screaming into the gag I placed in his mouth, the sounds muffled behind the fabric. The one word left in my vocabulary bouncing around my skull.
KILL .
I don't pay him any attention though. I push the tip in deeper and angle the base back towards me, lining the blade's seared edge with his spinal cord. The outer layer of skin splits, allowing blood to pool out.
His shrieking continues as I repeat the process, this time going deeper. Severing muscles, tendons, and cartilage. The popping of detaching flesh fills my ears and blood drips down his back, pooling around us on the table. I know he won't live long. I know he won't feel everything I'm going to do to him, but I don't care. This is more of a symbol of love for my angel.
When I've finally cut through all of the skin, muscles, and tendons along his spine, I start to peel everything back, exposing his ribcage. The action has sweat forming on my brow and my muscles ache, but I persevere. The ripping of his meat and the squelching sound of his bloodied flesh are more prominent now that his screams have turned into barely there groans.
Looking down into his open back, his exposed ribs sparkle underneath the bright kitchen lights. “ Grimm , can you plug in the power saw for me?” I say, my words devoid of any emotions. I blink down at his back a few times until a handheld power saw is being placed into my hands. “ Thanks .”
I turn it on, careful to not cut anything other than the parts I want to sever. I start on the left side and bring the spinning blade down onto the first of twelve ribs. Blood and bone fragments spray out and coat my hands, face, and chest. I blink rapidly, trying to get some of the blood out of my eyes.
The cracking sound of the bone under the grinding of the saw reverberates through the room until the snap of the dismembering bone lets me know the rib is no longer attached. When it finally snaps, I grab it and pull it up, facing it outward from his body.
I move over to the right side and duplicate the same process. Sawing and yanking out the bones. I do this to the remaining eleven ribs until all twelve are poking out. My arms are burning with the exertion of the force it takes to saw through human bones. My sweat has started to drip off my brow, falling into his back and mixing with his blood. The cracking of the ribs is similar to small fireworks. I have to repeatedly wipe down my hands to gain a better grip on the slippery blood-coated bones.
Turning off and placing the saw to the side, I look down at my gruesome masterpiece. Twenty -four ribs are twisted and angled outward from his back, resembling the look of wings. The red-stained bones drip crimson down onto the table that is covered in blood.
The symbolism behind this method of torture causes my eyes to water. Harold has long since died and his ribs give the illusion of wings. A dead angel. Much like the loss he has caused me. The reminder sends a sharp pain to my chest. But I can't think about that right now, I need to get Blair back.
Kill . Kill . Kill .
Each demon crossed off my list brings a small sense of satisfaction to me, knowing I took another person off this planet that contributed to the harm my little obsession has endured.
As we leave, I look over at Grimm . I notice the bags under his drooping eyes. My tunnel vision of revenge and getting Blair back has kept me awake for days, but it's starting to take a toll on us and Grimm gets off on this shit. I can't get Blair back if I'm not sharp-minded.
Just as I'm about to suggest we call it a day and catch up on some sleep so we don't crash, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Quickly , I whip it out and glance down at the new text message from Eli .
Eli: I found Oscar Pittman. Fuck man, it took some digging, but I got it. He is currently staying at the Seeding Motel. I'll send you the address.
That motherfucker. Any need for rest quickly vanishes. The monster who was going into hibernation for a moment slinks his way to the forefront of my mind. Fucking finally. One step closer to my little obsession.
Grimm is looking over my shoulder at my text, his eyes widening, “ I fucking know that guy. He was in an infomercial a few years back.” With renewed energy, I head towards my bike.
“ What was he selling? Fucking humans?” I sarcastically spit. “ Let’s go.”
The reason we needed to find Oscar in order to find Blair is because of the anonymity surrounding the buyer. Him being the handler meant he was the only one to know who she was purchased by. The asshole made this last a lot fucking longer than I wanted. She should have been home with me by now.
Swinging my leg over my bike, I waste no time throwing on my helmet and revving the engine to life. I'm on the road with climbing speeds before I can even blink. The meter below me reaches ninety and continues to inch higher .
I’ve never been reckless with my riding, but fuck it. I can’t afford to waste a single second right now. Every minute that passes is another minute she’s stuck, trapped, and alone.
We pull up to the run-down motel, the large sign above flickers, illuminating a majority of the letters. Turning off our bikes, we look around at the area. The surrounding grass is overgrown and the building looks like it could cave in at any given moment and I’m uncertain if the motel is still in business.
With enough energy to slaughter an army, I get off my bike when Grimm grabs onto my wrist. “ Yo ,” he whispers, pointing at a man leaving a lower-level room. “ I think that’s Oscar right there!”
As if the guy could sense the danger nearby, his head snaps in our direction and his eyes widen. The greasy fuck takes off towards a black car. “ Fuck , let’s go!” I quickly tug my helmet back on. I was hoping for a surprise attack, not having to chase him. I try not to let the panic of him getting away cross my mind as I start my bike up again.
Before we can stop him, he's reversing and peeling out of the dingy motel parking lot and squealing out onto the road. “ FUCK !” I shout. I’m snapping my visor back down and taking off after him before I can come up with a plan.
Grimm’s voice fills my helmet, “ We can shoot out his tires, cause him to crash.” He says, confidence lacing his words.
Oscar’s car leaves tire marks in its wake as he speeds off, the squealing sound echoes in the deserted area. I pick up my speed, hitting one hundred miles per hour and still climbing. There is some distance that remains between us, so I continue pl aying with death and allow the number to keep rising.
I reach behind me and pull the gun from the waistband of my pants. With the speed I'm going, my aim is choppy, the wind making it hard to shoot straight. Regardless , I hold my finger on the trigger and let the bullets blast through the air.
My arm jerks with every shot, making my bike jerk slightly too, but I continue firing rounds at his car until the resounding pop of a tire being hit and deflating fills the air. The squealing of tires on the pavement causes the car to drift, going towards the ditch on the side of the road. With the high speeds while drifting, the car starts to lift and roll. I slow down as Grimm flies past me, gun still lifted as he targets the car, screaming through the earpiece like a Viking .
His shouting overpowers the loud sounds of metal crunching and smashing against the ground as glass shatters, flying everywhere.
Again , his actions pull a chuckle from me until I remember the reality of the situation. “ Don’t kill him, we need him alive you psycho!” I shout into the earpiece.
“ I’m not fucking stupid, I know that. I just wanted to shoot some shit up and have a little fun while we catch the bad guy.” He replies with a huff.
Shaking my head as we pull up to his rolled car, I stop my bike and climb off. Looking down into the ditch as smoke floats from the upside-down vehicle, I draw my gun and make my way down. The black metal is riddled with bullet holes, the windows are all blown out and the tire that I hit has flattened.
Inside , Oscar is hanging upside down, with his eyes closed. Based on the shallow movements of his chest, he’s unconscious but breathing. To be sure, I draw back my gun and slam the butt of it against his temple. I reach over him and unhook his seatbelt. Not sure where he had the time to put this on in our chase but good for me that he didn't fly through the windshield and die. I need important information from him.
Releasing his seatbelt, I grab his body and try to maneuver him out through the window. His limp form is heavy as fuck but at least he isn't fighting back.
Noticing that we aren't far from campus, I call over to Grimm . “ Let's take him to the tunnels,” I say, then pause, realizing we have no way of getting him there with our bikes. We’ve been carrying the heavy ass bags on our backs with us, there's no room for him. “ Fuck .” I grunt. Pulling my phone out, I call Eli .
“ Yes ?” he deadpans. No emotion whatsoever.
“ I need you and Jaden to grab a car and head to where we are, now. I’m sending you our location.”
“ On the way.” He responds, the click of the dial tone notifying me he’s hung up.
Because we aren't too far out, they arrive within twenty minutes. Luckily , the impact of the crash and my ever-so-kind knock to the temple keeps Oscar unconscious while we wait for their arrival.
The car squeals to a stop as they pull up. They exit the vehicle and make their way towards us. “ Oscar ?” Eli asks. I nod my confirmation as he and Jaden walk over to his sprawled out body, grabbing an ankle each while me and Grimm pick him up from under his armpits.
“ We’re going to the tunnels.” Grimm supplies .
“ Alright , we’ll meet you guys there. If you need anything else, let us know.” Jaden says. He sounds sympathetic, and I give him a slight nod to show my appreciation. We shove Oscar into the backseat of the car and Grimm and I hop onto our bikes to follow them towards the tunnels.
When we arrive, we each grab a limb and carry him inside and down to where he will meet his death.
Being under a fucking cemetery has its perks. Inside one of the rooms in the tunnels, giant crosses are plastered along the walls. Crosses that have been used many times for initiations in the past. Luckily , my generation got to skip that type of initiation. The bigger than life wooden cross is heavy. Grimm and I both let out a grunt as we pick the material up and carry it to the torture room.
Placing the cross against the wall where the chains are located, we grab his limp body and drag him over to it. My muscles burn with the effort it takes to lift him and secure him to the wooden cross while managing to keep his body upright. Grimm comes over and helps to hold his weight up for me. Eli and Jaden make quick work of chaining him to the cross, ensuring he can't escape.
When he's secured against the giant cross, I tilt my head and look down at him, deciding how I’d like to torture him. He’s awake now, terror spreads across his face as he looks at me with bloodshot eyes and my first form of torment enters my mind. I grab a knife from the bag and cut off his clothes, leaving him exposed. “ You made such a silly mistake, Oscar ,” I smile. “ Grimm , can you hand me the nails?” Grimm chuckles while digging around in the bag, grabbing the nails. He ha nds them to me along with a hammer, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“ You see, Oscar , not only did you look at what was mine, you took her from me. You thought it was okay for you to take her away from me. Play God if you will. Play with her fate, and mine. It's only fitting we nail you to the cross, isn't it?” His eyes bug out of his head but he doesn't speak, what a shame.
I come face-to-face with him. “ Want to tell me where you sent her, Oscar ? I only extend my kindness so far.” With gritted teeth, he shakes his head. What a fucking idiot. “ Suit yourself. I'll get it out of you one way or another.” I let him see the manic smile spread across my face as I lift the long, thick nail in my hand and hold it in front of his eyeball. A low laugh sounds from Eli at the sight.
“ We’re gonna head back to the house. When you get the information you need, let me know.” Eli says over his shoulder as they walk out. I give him a nod and turn to Grimm .
“ Grimm , come hold his head for me.” He has a collar on his neck but that doesn't keep him from being able to jerk his head from side to side. Oscar thrashes his head, shouting curses at me, but I can't hear a single word besides the one that’s playing on repeat. My new favorite song.
Kill .
Grimm comes up and grabs his head, squeezing his skull so hard the skin reddens around his grip.
I press the tip against his eyeball, blood starting to dribble out as his curdling screams echo around the cement walls. “ Fuck you! I won’t tell you shit!” He shrieks. He thinks he won't, but b y the time I'm done with him, he will have spilled every last one of his secrets.
“ No ?” I ask quizzingly. “ Okay .” I shrug, lifting the hammer, and slam down the flat edge against the nail, driving the metal deep into his eye. The squelching sound of it impaling his meaty flesh brings me joy. Blood squirts out onto my cheek and through his untouched eye, I see the fear shining at the sight of my bloodied, smiling face. “ Try again, Oscar ,” I sing-song. I leave the nail embedded in his eye and grab another, lining it up with the other one.
Looking at the fear reflected back at me, my thoughts momentarily switch over to Blair and how fucking terrified she must be. The pain they’ve caused her. My past has crafted a darkness inside of me that I can never undo. Now , Blair will have to face that same harsh reality. Because of my father, my blood. Because of all of his sick and perverted associates. If anyone knows what she’s feeling, it’s me, I know my little obsession will never be the same.
“ I’m not telling you fucking shit! They’ll kill me. No fucking way!” He screeches, his voice filled with pain but resolve.
“ So what exactly do you think is stopping me from killing you if you don’t stop wasting my fucking time and open your goddamn mouth, Oscar ? You think I’ll let you go?” I laugh, the manic sounds bouncing off the walls. I feel fucking insane. It makes sense, though.
Every minute she's gone, I lose a piece of my sanity.
With my laughing coming to an abrupt stop, I lean forward in front of his good eye and place the nail to his throat, the tip directly against the rapidly beating pulse. “ It’s not your fault you didn’t know, so let me spell it out for you. I won’t just kill you, I will separate the skin from your bones until there is nothing left but your skeleton. I will nail you to this wooden cross and grate the skin off of your fucking body. I will not just kill you, I will torture you, slowly. And you know what I’ll do once you're dead?”
His one eye is wide, staring back at me in horror and disbelief. “ I will take your skin and make it into a fucking sandwich and feed it to your sick, filthy wife.” He chokes on his air but I continue, “ Yeah , I know about her. Imagine my surprise when I learned of how she helps you? Fucking disgusting.” Before he can speak, I bring the nail back to his eye and swing the hammer down, impaling it inside of the organ. His wails and cries fill my ears but I’m not fucking done.
“ This is what I would call an appetizer, Oscar .” I slam the hammer down onto the protruding nail, hammering until it’s stuck inside of his eye but not deep enough to kill him. “ You can release his head Grimm , he's not going anywhere.” I chuckle.
“ F -fuck you, you fucking- FUCK !” He’s rudely interrupted when I hammer another nail down into the palm of his hand.
“ Don’t fucking speak unless you plan on telling me where she is. I can draw this out for hours, Oscar . Days . I will let you heal and do it all over again.” I don't recognize the madness coating my voice.
“ Okay ! O - Okay , just don't hurt my w-wife, please.” He begs as streaks of blood leak from his eyes.
“ Speak ,” I growl, the sound is more animalistic than man .
“ His name is Lorenzo , Lorenzo Vondro . That's a-all I know. Fuck man, please let me go. I’m s-sorry.” He wheezes out, clearly the pain has started to get to him.
Lorenzo . The name tastes like fucking chalk on my tongue. I look over at Grimm and he nods, already contacting Eli . It’ll take him time to locate the fuck, so I turn my head back to Oscar . “ That’s good,” my voice devoid of any emotion. I pick up another nail and go to his other hand, hammering him to the wood.
“ FUCK , I told you what you wanted to k-know!” He screams, spit flying from his mouth as it mixes with bloodied tears.
“ I . Don’t . Fucking . Care .” I make my way over to the bag and pull out the grater. The simple kitchen item that is perfect for the pain I want to inflict on him. I take the tool and place it against his torso before pushing into his skin and dragging it down. Each ridge cuts out a small piece of skin, shredding it like a block of cheese.
“ F - FF - FUCK !” He wails, surprisingly still conscious. I pay him no mind, though. When I grate a path down his torso, I bring the tool back up his chest and create a new path next to it. Red bloodied lines of open skin show where the grater’s ridges have ripped it off. “ P -please fucking STOP !” He wheezes, his voice fading along with his life. I don't let up. I continue to drag the grater along his body until a pile of shredded skin sits at his feet.
My fingernails are caked in blood and my shoes squeak along the wet floor as I move around his body to more exposed flesh. I don’t stop scraping his skin off until I hear Grimm speak. “ We got Vondro’s location. Eli is sending the address to us now.”
With dripping hands, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, the text coming through with the location.
Eli: 783 Scythe Street. There’s a hidden driveway so keep a lookout.
My body is tired and my mind feels weak, but I refuse to rest. Only when Blair is rescued, when I can hold her in my arms once more, will I allow myself to relax. I will not blink until she's safe.
Keep holding on, my little obsession. Don’t give up, I'm coming.