Chapter 46 Scarlett #2
As they talked it out, I turned back to Zo and Thomas. Both were passed out, their heads hanging low, their hair grimy and stringy. They stunk terribly.
Even so, I didn’t completely mind, so long as they gave me some answers to make the trip down here worth it. I didn’t know what kind of answers, just whatever seemed to sing ‘yes, that’s what I wanted’.
I walked by them towards the long, narrow table along the side wall, running my fingers gingerly over the edge of it, taking in everything Azrael had left down here to play with.
Lot’s of instruments. Sharp, jagged, narrow, wide, long, short. I saw pliers, clamps, needles, piano wire, knives, axes, and even a pick.
I slowed when I saw the ice pick. It was longer than the one they had used on me. In fact, the end of it, while sharp, was flat and half an inch wide rather than round and pointed.
I picked it up, inspecting it as I turned to face the two prisoners, humming that little tune. This was what they deserved. It was what they all deserved.
Thomas hadn’t seen me since Azrael had taken me to the museum. He must have still thought I was some scared, silent little girl with no will. I was excited to show him that I was far from the girl he once controlled.
I stepped right in front of him, spun the pick around in my hand, and brought it down with all my might, slamming it straight behind his kneecap.
He jerked awake, crying out violently. The screaming faded to snarls and panting, spit flying around the gag. His eyes were red, dried tears cutting paths in the dirt, grime, and blood covering his face, more quickly dripping down that very same trench.
I straightened, giving him my best smile behind the mask and a little wave of my fingers. I hated him. I hated him with everything I was, and now? Now I would finally fulfill the promise Azrael had given me so long ago.
When he finally calmed down enough to speak, he mumbled something around the gag, still panting and shaking, the blood quickly pooling around his new injury. I think I might have severed his patella from the tendons holding it in place.
It was exactly what I wanted to do.
I glanced back at Havoc and gestured towards Thomas, and without hesitation, the Blackheart brother walked over and tore the gag off.
Thomas spit on the floor as Havoc took a step back, his eyes ever steady on mine.
I watched him for a second longer before turning back to Thomas and angling my head to one side.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Mrs. Thorin,” I replied, Havoc repeating the words for me.
Thomas looked me over as he forced himself to straighten.
He had this smug look on his face, as if he had somehow won.
As if me being here proved something to him.
“Scarlett Harris. Wow. I can’t believe they let you out.
How did that chair leg feel inside that tight little ass of yours, huh?
Did it feel good? Did it feel like you were finally pure? ”
I laughed. “I can show you what they did to me,” I signed, Havoc humming the words back. Before Thomas could even reply, I grabbed the pick and jerked it out of him, earning another feral snarl and string of curse words.
I grabbed his hand, pulled his index finger back, and placed the tip of the bloody pick right at the edge of his fingernail before I found his eyes again, smiling brightly.
“She’s wondering what you know,” Havoc told him.
Thomas tried to rip his hand back, but Azrael had tightened the barbed wire so much that it was only tearing deeper into his skin. “About what?” he cried.
“I don’t know, guess you’ll just have to start talking and see where it leads you.”
“What the fuck,” he cries out. “I don’t know anything.”
“Oh, we know that,” Havoc responds. “Now you’ll have to convince her and she’s…well, let’s just say she lives in her own little world. Who knows what’ll pass as real information, huh?” He chuckled. “Have fun playing her game, Tommy, this one doesn’t fuck around.”
I beamed and pushed the pick under his nail, watching the blood pool where I separated the nail from his skin.
It was mesmerizing, the way it bubbled and boiled, but all I could see was my nail and my finger.
My nails and my fingers. I couldn’t have that.
I had to erase what they did to me, so I shoved it in a little more and found his eyes, his screams music to my ears.
“Stop, stop, fucking stttoooopppp!” he begged, fighting hard against the restraints. “I don’t know anything! I swear to God, please. Just ask your fucking husband, I swear. I swear,” he whimpered.
I paused, if only to hear even a crumb of information on Azrael.
Thomas was panting, his eyes wide. “He already tortured us for information. I told him everything I knew, which was fucking nothing,” he spat angrily, causing me to frown.
“My idiot father never left me any of the passwords before he disappeared. I haven’t been in contact with the Elders, I don’t know where they are, L.J.
is running the museum while I’m running the church,” he sobbed, snot pouring down his nose.
“I have someone else handle that money. That’s it, I swear, that’s it. ”
I straightened, frowning. Well, that’s not optimal. My eyes found Havoc’s. I hadn’t thought about the museum. Who was handling that?
“We haven’t discussed how to handle the museum. It’s closed on Sundays, so our assumption is that the customers and the owners,” he nodded towards Thomas, “will all die on Sunday when we hit the churches. We can deal with the empty building after that.”
Okey dokie.
I turned back to Thomas and slid the pick between my teeth. “Your father is dead. He betrayed you before his brain was splattered all over the window above the sink.”
As Havoc repeated it, Thomas’s eyes widened. “Dead?” he shook his head. “No, I thought he ran. He was always too soft—” His eyes shot to mine. “What do you mean ‘betrayed’?”
I slapped him, clawing my nails as I did, leaving three lines across his slowly reddening cheek.
“She’ll ask the questions,” Havoc clarified.
Thomas snarled, finding my eyes again. “Fuck you,” he snapped.
“Blessing? You’ve been nothing but a fucking curse on our church since the second your bitch of a mother gave you to me.
You deserved being raped. You deserved having their cum drip from your lips.
You deserved every lashing, every slap, every fucking picture that was ever taken of you.
You deserved it all. I hope you realize that you’re still being raped,” he went on through his teeth as my smile grew painful.
“You will always be raped. From now until eternity. Every picture and video we’ve taken of you since the first second you stepped on that stage all those years ago, they’re still being shared.
Everybody is fucking their Favorites, their wives, their whores, thinking of you.
You will live in infamy until long after your black heart withers and dies. ”
I laughed and turned to Olivia, Emily, and Poppy who were still standing near Evie’s closed door. “Can one of you guard that door please?” I asked, gesturing to the door at the bottom of the steps. Not waiting for a response, I headed for the table and exchanged the pick for a pair of wire cutters.
I returned to Thomas, ignoring his ‘what are you doing’ ramblings, and cut the barbed wire pinning him to the chair.
I walked back to the table and exchanged the wire cutters for throwing knives and stars. Finally, I spun on him and gestured for him to go, my body vibrating with the rage and hatred I felt for him.
Havoc slapped him on the shoulder. “I think she wants you to run, bud.”
Thomas looked up at him before turning back to me. “You stuck a pick in my knee,” he said in disbelief. “I can’t run.”
Havoc grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him up before pushing him forward, forcing him to stumble and fall to his hands and knees.
Thomas cried out, immediately rolling onto his back, grabbing his knee, whimpering. “Fuck.”
“Figure it out,” Havoc ordered him.
I threw the first knife before even giving him a chance to recover, and it landed an inch away from his right ear, embedded into the dirt.
Thomas jerked away, cursing under his breath. “I can’t run!”
Havoc easily joined my side. “Then you die without a fight,” he said simply as I threw another one.
This one landed in his left shoulder.
“She’s giving you freebies,” he sang as Thomas screamed. “My doll never misses, especially when the target isn’t moving. I don’t know how many more you have before she sticks one in your heart.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath,” he panted, still making no move to get up.
I frowned and turned to Havoc, gesturing to Thomas in irritation. He wasn’t playing my game! I wanted to play a goddamn game!
His expression softened apologetically. “Some people are just too cowardly, doll. You can’t change that, trust me, I’ve tried.”
“Cowardly?” Thomas panted, forcing himself up onto one knee. “I know I’m going to die.”
“And you stopped fighting,” Havoc responded icily. “That’s cowardly.”
He snarled through his teeth and forced himself to a stand. “I’m not a fucking coward,” he snarled, ripping the knife out of his shoulder. He pulled his arm back and threw it with everything he could at me…
And missed severely.
I laughed and turned from the knife on the ground back to him. How pathetic. I threw another one at his feet, forcing him to shuffle back, snarling at the pain I knew he felt.
“You will never make it to Heaven, you fucking psychopath,” he roared, falling against the far wall, heavily relying on it and his one good leg to keep him upright.
I threw another one, getting him in the leg. Heaven? I didn’t want into their Heaven. I didn’t want anything to do with their religion. I would create my own religion if I had to, and in that religion, everyone was welcome except for rapists and pedophiles.
He cried out, moving along the wall to try and get out of my throwing range.