CHAPTER 33 - Bryan Trevor #2
Bile rises in my throat, but it doesn't come up. Instead, the acid only fuels my desire to make this wretch suffer more.
“It's wonderful to use your own weapons against you.” I turn to him, setting the scraper on the chair beside me before walking back to where he hangs.
“Please!!” he begs as I start untying the knots Dominic wrapped around his hands and legs.
I lift him up, hating the feel of his skin against mine, but knowing it's for a greater good.
“Don't do this!!” he pleads desperately as I drag his body toward the ropes.
He tries to struggle, but he's too weak and too injured to manage anything.
“Why not?” I ask, stretching one of his arms and securing it to the first hook. “You had this put here, so it's all your fault,” I mock, tying the other arm.
I step back, tilt my head to the side, and smile.
His body is covered in marks from the beating, plus the bullet wounds in his thigh and knee.
It's still not enough, so I grab the scraper again—but first, I light a cigarette.
I drag on it slowly, savoring the moment and the desperation growing in his eyes.
“Wh… what… What are you going to do?” he stammers when I stop in front of him.
I smile and bring the cigarette close to his ear.
“Just what you deserve.” I press the lit end into his ear canal.
“Stoooop,” he screams, writhing from the burn.
I step back when the flame dies out, leaving the cigarette still lodged inside.
Tears stream down his cheeks, and his arrogant facade has vanished.
I press the scraper against his chest.
Before he can open his mouth, I dig the blade's teeth in and drag down, tearing through his entire abdomen.
He lets out a piercing howl that fills not just the room but this entire damned place—and every fiber of my being.
Pure pleasure washes over me.
It's an animalistic sound, wrapped in pain, that fascinates me.
Gavin gasps, eyes wide, face red as blood, veins bulging in his forehead.
I don't give him time to recover—I drag the scraper down again over what's already raw flesh.
Another guttural sound escapes his disgusting lips. His body writhes in agony, and soon I hear urine splashing on the floor.
The bastard pisses himself completely.
“Pathetic, just like your nephew,” I mock, and every reaction from his body makes me want to continue—to inflict more pain.
His fear, desperation, and agony only intensify my desire to see him suffer.
I place the scraper's sharp teeth on his arm and drag down, carving through the entire side of his body. His skin peels away with the movement and mixes with the pool of blood forming on the floor.
He screams, howls, snarls.
Guttural sounds escape his mouth, and his head drops forward.
His breathing turns erratic.
I've killed more people than I can count, tortured many others when necessary, but nothing—nothing I've ever done—has given me as much pleasure as watching Gavin fall apart in front of me.
The stench of his rotting blood.
His skin disintegrating.
His eyes wild with panic.
His mouth howling and drooling.
Watching him be destroyed is like a balm to me.
“Are you feeling the pain, Gavin?” I ask, and his head rises with effort. He spits blood on the floor, his entire face drenched in sweat. The terror in his eyes is something I’ll always remember with happiness. “This is the price for messing with what isn’t yours, for hurting the one I love.”
“J-just f-finish it,” he begs, and his eyes close in agony.
“I dreamed about this, you know?” I pull up a chair and sit down.
“I spent years fantasizing about this moment, longing to have you in front of me.” I stare at him with a smile, letting him see how much I enjoy watching him suffer.
“When I found Noah and started discovering everything you’ve done—everything you’ve been doing—my thirst for your ruin only intensified, and I knew I’d only feel avenged when I drained the life from your body. ”
“Bast...”
“They say that when we die, our brain spends seven minutes reliving our life, and if that’s true, Gavin, the only thing in your mind will be my face while I torture you.
” I stand up, throwing the scraper aside and grabbing the pruning shears.
“You’ll feel so much pain that it’ll be the only thing filling your mind in your last minutes of consciousness. ”
Three steps and I’m in front of him again.
Right now, I’m grateful for my six-foot-six frame.
I grab his right hand, and with a cruel smile, I begin to tear off not just the nails but the tip of each finger.
Blood spurts forward, splashing onto me.
I don’t care—not when his body starts convulsing and incoherent words thick with terror flood my senses.
I don’t care about the blood staining me because I can wash it off with soap and water.
I care about the pain I’m inflicting on this despicable worm.
His words start as howls, then fragment into syllables, then lose all form, becoming nothing but noises of agony.
His eyes flutter between open and shut as I tear off all ten tips.
“J-just k-kill m-me.” He tries, but there’s so much pain inside him that the slightest effort to speak is torture in itself.
I could cut his throat and end this, but I want more. So when all his fingertips are on the floor, I step back just enough to stare at the piece of shit between his legs.
“Never again. Never again will you touch any woman, you bastard.” My voice carries the hatred of the entire planet as I remember that he abused Noah when she was still a child.
That he was going to abuse my daughter.
And only God knows how many other children he would have destroyed.
I press the tip of the shears against him, and his pupils dilate so much they nearly swallow the whites of his eyes.
I don’t cut all at once.
No.
That would be too easy.
I open and close the shears over his shriveled cock.
He howls again, jolting awake from the unconsciousness that had been consuming him.
I snip as much as I can while his body trembles violently and his mouth releases panic in agonized mumbles.
“This is what happens to rapists, and this pain is still too little for you. If I could, I’d spend days tearing pieces off—not just your disgusting dick, but your filthy body too.” I close the shears right at the pelvis and feel the crack of the member being ripped off reverberate through me.
Gavin opens his mouth, but only a silent scream escapes before his head falls forward.
I step back, staring at the completely destroyed carcass.
“Love?” The soft voice makes me spin on my heels.
Noah is standing in the doorway, eyes wide, staring at her own father—raw flesh and probably dead.
My heart races.
“Butterfly...” The nickname comes out hoarse, almost threatening. “You said that...”
She shakes her head, cutting off my words, and I wonder if I just lost the love of my life.
Right when I thought I’d have her forever.