Natalie #2
“That’s not my name.”
“What?” He cries.
The door slides open, Dante is standing there, now wearing his mask and enters. He stands beside pa and slaps a hand over his mouth muffling his screams.
Staring up at him, he gives me a nod of approval. Even though he hates violence, he doesn’t stop me from doing what I need to do. And my stomach overflows with desire for the newcomer. For both of them. Fuck how the hell am I meant to choose just one?
“I said, that’s not my name.” My two men look toward each other and Julian shrugs. “Come on Pa, you know it and I know it. You changed my name when I was sent to you.” Dante lifts his hand so Pa can answer me.
“I did,” he weeps. “I didn’t like what those other people called you.”
“Say my name Pa.”
“Na…”
“Not the one you gave me.” I slide the knife up and down his cock. “I don’t want that name any more. I don’t want to associate any part of my life with you.”
He chuckles. He’s actually brave enough to laugh. “We have a baby together. You are never getting rid of me.”
Smack. Dante slaps pa on the back of his head.
“You don’t even deserve to go to hell for what you did to her.” I sneer. “She’s your blood. And you still raped her. What kind of vile person does that to their own daughter.”
“I didn’t bring her up, so I don’t see her as mine.”
“She is though. And that’s what makes it even sicker.”
“Yes, mine and yours , Natalie. We share a child together, you ain’t ever getting rid of me. I hope every time you see that little whore you think of me. She wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for me.” I wrap my hand around his throat. Squeezing until he starts to gasp.
“It’s true. You are her biological father.
” I spit. “But I will parent her enough that she won’t need a dad in her life.
She has a family now, one that will make sure she is never hurt again.
I don’t see you when I look at her. Do you want to know what I see?
” He doesn’t move. “I see a strong girl. I see a survivor, I see a Goddamn hero.”
“Hero?” He wheezes.
“When she grows up, she will heal herself like I did. She will be her own hero, because no matter how many people surround us, in here,” I point to my chest, “and in here,” I tap my temple, the knife shining in the corner of my eye, “we have to fix ourselves. Others may help a little, but we have to do most of the work. We are our own heroes. People like you try to break us, try to tear us down. But we won’t let you.
I won’t let anyone dim her light any more.
She will shine brighter than any of you bastards who have hurt her.
” I let go of his throat, picking the tongs back up and going back to my previous job.
I bring the knife back down and continue to glide the blade across the thin skin keeping his balls connected.
“I will start with you. Next is your wife.”
“Natalie,” he tries to intimidate me with his growl.
“Uh uh, I told you that’s not my name.”
“Grace-Ann Searle.” He sneers, “fucking stupid name given to you by stupid people.” I stab his leg. “Fuck.”
“I happen to love that name.” I look up, the others stare down at me, I hope they understand my meaning by that sentence.
Another slice and I break the skin. I cut slowly, deliberately drawing out as much pain as I can.
Pa’s screams quieten down into low moans.
I start humming to myself, dissociating myself from the reality of me slicing off the balls of my daughter’s rapist - her own father.
The twelve days of Christmas tune bounces off the walls repeatedly as I hum it over and over again.
Three more slices with the knife and they’re completely off. I stand and finally speak, asking Dante to remove his hand that he shoved back over Pa’s mouth a few minutes ago. He obeys immediately. Jerking pa’s jaw open as wide as it will go.
Pa’s eyes catch mine as I shove them into the back of his throat and remove my mask.
He starts to choke on the makeshift ball gag, but I don’t care.
His eyes start to fade of life, while I assume mine shine brighter.
“I’m finally free of you. You will never touch my child, any child again.
” His breathing goes shallow, I feel the pressure of vomit trying to force the balls out of his mouth, but I hold them there.
He isn't going to get to live longer because he is sick. He deserves the worst kind of death. “You can’t haunt me anymore.” I whisper as he draws his final breath.
Taking a step back, I stare down at the corpse of my dead foster father, my pa, whom I just tortured and killed.
What have I done?
And why don’t I feel any type of regret or guilt?
We are our own heroes, only we can start to fix what’s broken inside us.
And my fix is to focus on healing.
I look up to both the men, urine leaking down my leg, it must be my body releasing years of stress, finally my whole body relaxes into a state of bliss.
I reach out to my masked saviours, each one taking one of my hands as I drag them close and lean my head between their shoulders.
I am finally free of the monster who taunted me all these years, who haunted my dreams, who raped my child and possibly impregnanted her.
I am free of my boss, my bully. I am free. Finally fucking free.
And now, I have one last thing to do.
“ We need to talk.” I say. “And change my trousers.”
They laugh, but not at me, they laugh with me, no judgment in their eyes. I love these men. And now I have to tell them my decision.