26. Ashmaker
TWENTY-SIX
ASHMAKER
Idrag my gloved hands roughly through Jesse's sweat-soaked hair, as he blubbers with excuses, and tears fall down his pathetic, pale face. "Shhh, now, it's far too late for those. That won't stop what needs to happen here."
He was far too easy to track to his favorite bar, where he spends most of his nights drinking himself stupid, before stumbling home and beating his girlfriend in a blind, drunken rage.
All I had to do was sit in the shadows and patiently wait, like a spider for their prey, for his belligerent ass to finally be cut off by the bartender.
Then follow him outside and down a dark, garbage-scented alleyway on his route home.
He made it especially easy on me, when he decided to stop to urinate against a brick wall a few blocks away from his house.
He almost made it, he almost had a reprieve, but justice doesn't rest, and neither do I.
He didn't even hear me approaching, and it was far too late once I'd sunk my syringe into his neck.
Now here we are in one of the abandoned buildings just a block away from his house, and I'm ready to play my games, and hear him sing for his life.
Not that it will do him any good, just like it didn't work for any of the others before him.
Jesse is like all the other demons I've dispatched back to hell; his soul is full of rot, and festering.
I mean to release him of his urges, and rid the world of his malevolent presence.
"Tell me about Mallory." I watch as his eyes widen dramatically, and all his crying instantly ceases.
He tries to fight against my tight restraints, but it's useless.
My knots and strong cords will hold. I've perfected them over time.
Every time he struggles, they get tighter and tighter, until I can see that he's already cutting off the circulation to his left hand.
That brings a smirk to my lips, with the thought that the fire will have that popping like a ripe sausage.
"I... I don't... know who... that... is," he gasps, as snot trails down to cover his wobbly lips. Fucking liar.
"Funny, she remembers you vividly. In fact, I'm pretty sure you still have a starring role in all of her nightmares after all these years, Jesse.
" I pull my sharp blade off of the discarded crate next to us, where I've set up all my tools.
"See, Jesse, this can be quick and painful, or I can torture you for hours, until both your mind and body break. The option really is up to you."
"YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY! LET ME GO!"
I slam the hilt of the blade against his nose, hearing a snap, before a trickle of blood pours from his nostril, and he cries out in pain.
I can see the wheels turning now in his cowardly head.
He thinks there's still a chance he can get out of this.
There isn't. God, they are all the same, and it's sickening how predictable they are.
I won't allow him to escape his fate; his sins must be paid in blood.
My job on this earth is to cleanse the world of men like Jesse, and their wickedness against their victims. Little girls like Mallory, his previous girlfriend's daughter, whom he abused, or his current girlfriend, Marcy, whom he enjoys laying his hands on, and then raping.
"She was... the daughter of..." He doesn't finish his sentence, as I slide the blade tip down his whiskered cheekbone toward the corner of his mouth. "Please... please... don't hurt me."
"Funny, I'm sure you've heard those exact words uttered to you in the past, isn't that right, Jesse?"
"I'll go to jail, I'll confess my crimes, just please don't kill me!" He screams as the point of the blade digs into his skin, and instantly a drop of ruby red blood forms on its surface.
The sight provides me a pang of happiness in this dreary moment, but it's quickly replaced as an enraged laugh escapes me, and bounces off the decrepit walls.
"How generous of you." I dig the blade in deeper, enlarging the wound until he chokes on his next cry, and rivulets of blood trail down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt.
"The time for jail is over, but you can still confess your sins to me, Jesse.
Perhaps it will bring you mercy at my hand," I rasp. "Perhaps not."
"You're fucking insane! You can't do this!
" Jesse squirms, his body trying desperately to shift away from me, as I begin to cut his clothing off his skinny body.
The smell of unwashed skin, sweat, and too much alcohol, is giving me a headache, and I'm eager to set this fucker ablaze, if only to be rid of his disgusting stench.
"Who's going to stop me, Jesse, hmm? The law?
How did that work out for Mallory, or for Marcy?
Did it stop you?" I slam the blade into his abdomen just below his belly button and twist, as his shrieks of pain fill my ears.
"Who protected that little girl from you entering her room night after night, and stealing her innocence?
Who ensured that Marcy's pretty face didn't meet with your fists in your fits of rage? "
"No, please! Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
I pull out the blade, his blood sliding down his body to soak into the waistband of his pants, changing the color from a drab gray to deep burgundy.
I wipe the blade on his cheek and bring it to his ear.
With my eyes meeting his, I swipe hard, cutting through the first layer of delicate flesh, as he screams and attempts to turn his head away from me.
"These ears heard no pleas for mercy, when they were spoken by Mallory or Marcy, and who knows how many others.
" I saw through the flesh, his blood soaking my leather gloves, and finally it gives way.
I drop the severed ear on the crate next to us, beginning to hum a tune under my breath as I ignore his wailing, and cut his pants off his legs.
When his hairy legs are exposed, and his pathetic penis sits in between them like a discarded maggot, I sit back on my haunches and stare at Jesse.
He's not the worst of the men I've served justice to, and unfortunately he won't be the last. The world we live in is corrupt, and men like Jesse, and the others, use it as a hunting ground to hurt those they should have protected.
Men. It's always a man, it seems. Even though I know realistically, and with certainty, there are good men out there, men who choose to protect, and don't hurt women and children.
The problem is they are few and far between, and it's hard to distinguish them from the ones who purposely prey on others.
Perhaps if they held their fellow species accountable, there wouldn't be a need for someone like me to mete out constant justice.
"I'm tired, Jesse. Tired of men like you, vile creatures, abusers, abominations who prey on those who are weaker.
I'm tired of cutting you into small pieces, and sending your disgusting souls back to the devil where you came from, only to turn around and find another one of you waiting for my judgment. "
"Please, you don't have to do this! Let me go! I'll be good, I'll change!"
A wall of exhaustion blankets me. They are all the same: liars, users. They would promise me anything I wanted to hear if I would just spare them their fate, but I can't. Not now, not ever. "How many promises did you make Marcy, that you would never hit her again, hmmm?"
I place the palm of my hand over his lying mouth, and slam the blade into his thigh, once, twice, three times before pulling my hand away. "Confess your sins, Jesse, unburden yourself before you meet your monstrous maker."
At first I don't think he'll say anything; he's too busy crying, and puking all over himself.
My patience is growing thin, and I can feel something pulling at me, a sense of urgency settling over me to be done with this.
Jesse Thames is as likely to confess to all his crimes as the others.
Even when confronted with death and torture, they hold on to their evil deeds.
Still, I have to try, to allow them to unburden themselves, before I serve them the justice that their victims were denied.
My neck prickles with a sense of awareness, and my glance trails to the darkened shadows, searching for a flash of white.
Is he here watching me again? What could he want from me?
It makes me uneasy to have an audience, yet I don't sense that he means me harm.
He's an admirer, perhaps someone like me out here doing good work, and ridding the city of its filth.
A part of me wants to hunt him through these shadows, and dispatch him, for daring to enter my sacred ground, and yet I know I've held back, allowing him closer and closer, my curiosity piqued.
My thoughts and feelings confuse me, making me waver, and I know that could be dangerous and expose me.
"I know you're here, so why do you hide in the shadows?
" A quiet rustling meets my ears in response, yet he doesn't step forward, and that fills me with a pang of disappointment.
Jesse's cries are distracting and causing me to lose my concentration on my silent wraith.
I grab a handful of his destroyed shirt, and shove it into his mouth, until the sounds are more muted.
"Are you like me, Ghost? Do you seek justice too, or do you just like to watch? "
A small chuckle breaks through the air, and a tall, booted male figure, dressed completely in black, with a hoodie pulled up over his head to disguise his hair, and a fabric skull mask over the lower half of his face, covering his mouth, steps forward.
"Ghost, huh? I've been called a lot of things in my time, but not that. I like it."
My fingers tighten around the bloody blade, preparing to defend myself against an attack if needed, even though I don't get the sense that he means me harm. "Who are you, and what do you want with me? Why do you skulk in the shadows?"