Chapter 2
Chapter two
Torture first, pleasure and problems later.
Karma
“You psycho bitch. What the fuck is wrong with you?” the pathetic “Alpha” idiot yells at me as blood runs down his chest and I stare at it in fascination. His screams are music to my ears. Good music, none of that shit music people listen to nowadays.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with me.
I was made this way by Alphas like you.” I sneer for half a second before giving him my brightest, whitest smile as I finish carving my calling card into his chest. KARMA’S A BITCH.
It’s ironic that Karma is my name as well, and I get called a bitch nine times out of ten by my unwilling guests for my little hobby.
I’m beyond surprised no one has connected the dots yet. I mean, I’m technically dead on paper, but I guess people think Karma is really just being used as a verb to describe the retribution these sacks of shits are getting for the horrible things they’ve done. See, Karma really can be a bitch.
“I didn’t do shit to you, Beta bitch. I don’t even know who you are.” He screams again, making me roll my eyes. I tilt my head and give him another one of my evil grins. Teeth and all. See, I can be sweet.
“Oh, you are quite right, James. You didn’t do anything to me…
yet. But you did try to spike my drink.” I shrug my shoulder in a whatever motion.
“But that’s not why I’m doing this.” His eyes widen when I mention that little tidbit of information.
He tried to roofie me at the bar we met at and thought I didn’t notice.
Little did he know that I have this really cool color-changing nail polish.
I just needed to dip my little finger in and stir all sexy-like, and when my nail changed color, I knew this dipshit was trying to get lucky without my consent. Funny how science works.
“I-I don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” he stutters this time, trying to once again yank himself free of his bindings.
He can try all he wants, but I’m an expert at knots, and not in a kinky way.
But I had to learn to make sure my victims couldn’t get free.
I start to trace my finger down his chest, pushing on my beautiful mark to make it bleed a little bit more.
The red of his blood is so pretty; I can get lost in it.
“Now, now. No need to lie. You’re dying either way. Someone already signed your death warrant.” At this he starts to struggle harder. I do love it when they fight back.
“I can pay you twice as much as whoever is paying you,” he begs and I just laugh. “Three times as much. Whatever you want. I can get it for you.” I laugh even harder. I laugh so hard that a tear slips free. Oh, this guy should have been a comedian.
I walk over to my little worktable, grab my camera, and strut back in front of my latest victim.
“Smile big; I need to show Rebecca my work.” He stops struggling at my client's name, making his eyes get the size of saucers.
“So, you do know what you did,” I say with my camera at the ready, but then I get a thought.
A live-action picture would be perfect. Grabbing my blade from my thigh, I hold it in my other hand.
“Ready? Say sorry, Rebecca.” I swing my blade down into his right thigh and snap a picture right as the big bad Alpha opens his mouth to scream.
Shivers run down my back. Damn it, now is not the time to get turned on.
“Yes, scream James. No one will hear you way out here. I’ve made sure of it, and your friends think you went home with a blonde-haired chick with blue eyes.
It’s amazing what a wig and contacts can do.
” I finally take a moment to set down my camera and rip off my blonde bob-cut wig, shaking out my crazy long fiery red hair.
It’s naturally this bright and would stand out in a crowd, so I have to play dress-up when I go out for my little hunts.
Sue me. The wigs are so uncomfortable, but I would rather continue my little hobby and not get caught any time soon.
My contacts came out the moment I got James back here and tied up.
After I shake my hair out, relieving the pressure, I yank my blade out of poor little James and wipe it on his torn-up shirt.
“So, James, why did you do it?” Aw, James is crying now.
Men are pathetic and only good for one thing.
But Alphas—those assholes are a whole other story.
I roll my eyes and slam my blade down on his other leg. “Oops, it slipped,” I giggle.
Apparently, James didn’t find me funny because he finally passed out.
What a dick. And I say dick as a full insult because pussies are stronger.
Kick a man in the dick and he goes down in seconds.
Just saying. Damn it, all these thoughts about dicks are making me want a good dicking.
Not James’s, of course, but I need to get laid soon.
My toys can only give so much pleasure, and I won’t touch an Alpha asshole.
Stupid Omega needs. I’m pretty sure I need to get some strong suppressants again. Being on them since… UGH. Focus Karma. Torture first, pleasure and problems later.
I get up and walk my fine ass to the bucket of water by the door.
I knew I would need it. I always do. Alphas think they are so big, bad, and tough, but when it comes to torture, I’ve had period cramps worse than his pain, and I didn’t cry.
No, I ate a gallon of ice cream, took a hot bath, and then drank an entire bottle of wine.
Or three. But I survived. Alphas are big babies.
I grab the bucket of ice water and unceremoniously dump it on James’s head.
His body immediately tries to jerk up but can’t get very far.
“Wakie wakie, eggs and bacie.” I tap my finger on my chin.
“I think I’m going to go have breakfast after this.
What do you say, James?” He stares at me like I’m some crazy lady.
In all fairness, I don’t think I’m all there, not since the night I died.
Shrugging my shoulders, I shake my head of those thoughts.
It won’t help me now. I’m so close to finding out who else was there, who else did this to me.
Till then, I have a job to do. Well, more like a hobby, but you say potato, I say vodka.
“Oh, yeah. You won’t be having breakfast, but I’ll eat some for you. How about that?” I nod my head like that is the best idea I’ve come up with in a while.
“Fuck you. What the hell do you want with me?” He screams for like the hundredth time, making me roll my eyes. Well, this is getting boring fast. I step towards him, leaning over his broken and already bruised body.
“I told you. Tell me why you hurt Rebecca. Why did you take her safety away? Why did you take something that did not belong to you, James?” I keep my voice cool and level as I lean farther over to yank my blade out again. He squeals like a little piggy, making my lips tip up again.
“She is lying. I didn’t touch that bitch.” He breathes through the pain. Well, that won’t do. I slam my blade down into his right shoulder blade this time.
“Don’t lie to me, James. You won’t like it when I’m angry.” I chuckle at that. I totally watched the Avengers last night, and now I feel all Hulky. “Why did you do it?”
“Fuck you! She asked for it. She wanted me. She was begging for it all week at work. Then when it was time, the stupid bitch backed out. Said she wasn’t ready,” he hisses out.
She asked for it. She wanted it. She begged.
I snap then. Grabbing another blade from my thigh holster, I slide it across his throat in a single smooth swipe.
Blood sprays upward, covering my face and chest, soaking through my baby blue tank top.
Damn it. I loved this shirt. Whatever. It was worth it.
“Well fuck.” Letting out an annoyed sigh, I grab a towel from my worktable and wipe up a bit.
I’m no stranger to blood; I’m usually covered in it by the time I’m done working, but I wasn’t done playing with my newest toy.
Ugh. I look over at James’ now dead body and groan.
I wish I had a butler who would clean up my messes.
One that didn’t ask questions and just did what he was told.
I start to untie my new dead friend from the table, then kick him onto the floor where I laid out a plastic sheet.
I’ve been watching crime shows and have some great techniques to try out on how to dispose of a body.
Lucky me. Tonight, I decided to burn him in the fire pit behind the house, and then I’ll bury what’s left in the woods further back.
I usually like to make a statement and leave the shitbags out to be found, but I’m feeling lazy tonight.
As I drag this dead weight through the garage, I look up and see Dean’s old motorcycle.
I pause and realize it belongs to me now.
Dean took me in that night. Saved my life in more than one way.
He never had kids of his own after his wife died, but he treated me as one just the same.
Taught me most of the things I know. Like how to kill a man, but also how to save one, if it were ever needed.
It had been a year since I last saw him.
We stayed in touch often, but he knew what I did.
Why I needed to do it. He never judged me, just told me to punish the right assholes.
I’m going to miss the old man. R.I.P. Dean.
I continue to drag James’ body to the back of the house. What is nice about my new location is that Dean hated people and moved about thirty minutes out of the city. I suppose it works out now. I have a place to hang low between jobs, and I have room to work if need be. It’s a win, win.
I get to the fire pit and toss gas all over the plastic, then add some wood.
It’s early winter and the deep of night, so I don’t have to worry much about catching the grass on fire or someone coming along by accident.
Not that it would have happened anyway. Dean never got visitors, and everyone knew to leave him alone.
Once I’m done with that, I say a little prayer.
“Dear fiery Father, hear my call, it’s me again.
Sending you another Alpha bastard to torture more in hell.
If you could cut off his dick, that would be great.
I got blade happy again and didn’t get the chance to do it while he was alive.
With all the love, Karma.” I sigh in relief.
Now I can shower and eat breakfast. I am starving.
I turn to walk away to get my greasy goodness, then pause and slap my palm to my forehead.
“Forgot to light the damn thing,” I mumble to myself as I grab my lighter from my pocket and light the trail of gas I added so I wouldn’t have to be so close.
You know because fire safety and all. James goes up with a whoosh, and I smile to myself. That’s better. Now bacon time.