Chapter 18 Aiden #3
“Good, you’re awake.” I secure the last strap to his left, bare ankle; his clothes are already burning in the corner of the room.
“I thought I used too much propofol. I don’t know why; I just assumed you’d be…
bigger. Isn’t that what monsters are supposed to be?
Big, scary creatures?” I chuckle softly, running a finger along the edge of the knife resting on the table nearby.
“Or in my case,” I gesture to my lean, lethal frame. “Devilishly handsome bastards.”
Keane’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the knife. “You have the wrong idea,” he stammers, fear creeping into his voice. “You have the wrong man.”
“Nope.” I push down my trousers and place them with my already-discarded shirt and socks.
Keane’s eyes grow as wide as saucers, and I can’t help but laugh as my boxers are next to go.
Sometimes, on particularly cold nights like tonight, I’ll leave them on and burn them later, but I’m sure my bug will have some questions if I leave fully dressed and then come back with no underwear on.
“You wish,” I toss my underwear onto the growing pile of clothes.
“You’re not my type for one.” Turning to my car, I lift the false bottom of the trunk to reveal a hidden compartment.
Inside, I retrieve a small, locked box and bring it back to the table.
“And unlike you, I have never forced myself on a woman before.”
“I haven’t—”
“Or child, for that matter,” I interrupt, cutting off his attempt to defend himself.
“W-what?”
I place the box next to the knife and enter the combination; it springs open, revealing a scalpel, three prefilled syringes, and a vial of clear liquid. “You see,” I continue, my voice cold and steady, “I have a different way of dealing with people like you.”
“Please, I didn’t…”
“Katie Byrne,” I say, looking him dead in the eyes. “Your first victim.”
“I was a kid!”
“So was I when I killed my father. Yes, I may have had several years on you, but age doesn’t excuse the fact that I did it. And if given the chance, I’d do it again. We both know what we’re capable of.” I take a step closer, the scalpel glinting in the dim light of the warehouse.
“I haven’t seen her in years!” Keane’s green eyes never leave the blade in my hand.
“She sees you every time she closes her eyes.” I lower the scalpel and pick up six nails instead.
“The memories haunt her. Every time she hears your name.” Placing the nails between my teeth, I grab the hammer from the nearby table.
“You hurt my girl, Keane.” My words are slightly muffled as I speak around the nails in my mouth.
“And now, it’s time for you to pay for what you’ve done.
” I place the first one against the back of his right hand and drive the hammer down, embedding it into his flesh.
Keane screams, barely mustering up the strength to draw another breath before I drive a nail through his left hand.
Then one in each foot, and finally one in each ear, just because.
My eyes flit to the scared mole rat between his legs. That shrivelled-up piece of flesh is what was forced into my girl’s mouth.
I was going to work from the neck down, but seeing the maggot between his legs has me biting down on my teeth so hard that I think I’ve cracked a molar. I’ll take a page from his book, dick first, I’ll make him suffer just like he made my girl suffer.
I bring the hammer down on his left nut, rupturing it. Keane’s body jumps, and the flesh around the nails tears open, blood weeps from several wounds.
Shit. On second thought, I should have kept that one whole. It’s too late now. There is still one ball left, not yet damaged. I can make it work.
Grabbing the scalpel, I pin the disgusting sack of flesh to the table. As I make the first incision, right down the seam of the scrotum, Keane lets out a guttural scream, his body convulsing.
“Do I have to put more pins in you to keep you still?” Flipping back the flesh, I see the remaining exposed testicle, swollen and pulsating with veins. It’s quick and easy to detach it from the spermatic cords. “Great news!” I hold up the severed testicle, “it’s a boy!”
The smile on my face falls when he lets out another agonised scream. “Nothing? Not even a snort? Rude.”
Turning the scalpel to his shaft, I mutter, “Katie would have laughed.” Believe it or not, this is the first time that I’ve attempted gender reassignment surgery. I usually just lob it off, but he hurt my bug, so I thought I’d try something more worthy of his punishment.
I don’t care what anyone says, an inside-out penis is not a vagina.
I would not even consider putting this thing anywhere near my mouth.
It looks like a mutated banana, with veins popping out.
Hmm. Maybe I’m doing it wrong? I’d YouTube it, but I’m not about to turn on my phone and ping my location to a random server.
I really need to invest in a new burner phone, my last one is now my personal one since I decided I was going to keep Katie.
I pull my mind back to the task at hand and grimace as a crusty line of smegma becomes visible along the edge and dry heave when it threatens to graze my finger. “Have you heard of soap? You filthy bastard!”
My God, bug, I’m traumatised for you!
Putting the scalpel down, I step away from the table. I need a minute.
I can feel my mother’s Sunday dinner making its way back up my throat.
There is not enough Valium in the world to make me ok with what I’ve just seen.
Mouldy smegma, I heave again at the thought of it.
I’m not touching that thing again; that can stay a sad, disfigured banana now.
It’s for Katie. It’s for Katie. It’s for Katie. It’s for Katie. It’s for Katie. It’s for Katie. It’s for Katie. He hurt my bug. He deserves to suffer. Do it for her. It’s for Katie. I repeat the mantra in my head.
“Come on.” I slap myself across the face to snap out of it. Stepping for the table again, fixated on the chunk of cottage cheese hanging from the foreskin, I shudder. “I can’t do it!” Spinning on my heel, I toss my hands in the air.
Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I fixate on a shelf on the opposite side of the room. “Katie. Katie. Katie. Katie. Katie. Katie. Katie—come on, AJ, get your shit together!”
Right. That’s it. He’s getting it!
I turn back to the table Keane’s still sobbing on, grab the scalpel, and get to work.
* * *
There are four and a half hours I’m never getting back.
Five and a half if you count the abduction.
Keane McCarthy is no more. He hurt my girl, and I took his life.
After I carved him up like a Christmas turkey, I took great joy in watching the life drain from his eyes once his cock was cut up into enough pieces that I could have folded it into a neat origami swan—smegma-free.
I really enjoyed the rest of the process.
Keane was not a fan of his homemade cheese, but he wasn’t given a choice in the matter.
The pieces of his manhood were shoved into his mouth, and I sewed his lips together.
That’s what he gets for assaulting my bug.
The prick.
I barely get out of the car when the front door swings open, and Katie greets me with a relieved smile that quickly turns into a glare.
There is no way she knows what I’ve done. There just isn’t. So why is she so upset?
As I try to figure out why I’m in trouble, I notice her eyes darting into the house, her body language becoming tense.
Someone is in my fucking house.
Looking to the opposite side of the drive, down by the side of the house, I spot Tracy’s Opal Corsa.
Stopping short of the top step, I ask, “When did she get here?”
“A little over an hour ago.” If she could set me on fire with that look, she would.
“Why is she still here?”
“She won’t leave. She wants to see you.” Katie steps aside to let me in, and if it were not for us leaving her car in Laois, I’d say she’d be long gone now. Thank God that I insisted on driving today. “I’ll leave you to it.”
She moves for the stairs, and I grab her back before she can escape. “You’re not going anywhere.” Tucking her against me so she can’t scramble off, I kiss her crown, “You don’t need to hide in our home.”
Her brow furrows, and her head tilts back to look at me. “Ours?”
“You’re mine, Katie.” I nuzzle her silken hair and breathe in her scent. “As long as it stays that way, everything that’s mine is yours.”
She quirks a challenging eyebrow. “Including your bank cards?” She means it as a joke; it’s evident when I pull out my wallet and hand her one of the cards. She immediately tries to shove it back into my hand, but I gently close her fingers around the card and say, “9236, go nuts.”
“AJ? Is that you?” Tracy calls out from down the hall; her head pokes out from the kitchen.
“Tracy.” Keeping Katie fixed to my side, I make my way towards her.
Her hair is slicked back in a high ponytail, and her dress—if you can call it that—is all too revealing with its plunging neckline and barely-there fabric.
It’s obvious why she’s here. She’ll be sadly disappointed. “What are you doing here?”
“You never told me you have a,” she cuts Katie a glare. Disrespectful, jealous bitch. “Friend.”
Katie turns into me, spitting venom. “You never told me you had call girls coming to the house.”
I bite down to stop a laugh. That’s my girl. She might be a little awkward socially, but she can give as well as she gets. Tracy may be a prison guard, but if the claws come out, I’m betting Katie will shred her.