He shakes his head and blubbers, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Breathing in and out, slowly I regain control. I nod, accepting that response for what it is. We both know there is absolutely nothing he can say to atone for what he’s done.
“All it would’ve taken was a little research, my guy. Even if you were
hotheaded enough to threaten me directly—that actually would’ve saved your
life.”
And my soul.
He snivels, having nothing to say. So, I pick up the mini saw and flip it on.
His nearly black eyes blow wide, dilated with terror.
I’ve sliced up his face pretty good, but I find there’s a much better use for it.
“Do you know what’s possibly being done to Addie as we speak?” I question,
the buckle of his belt clanging beneath the soft whirring of the blade.
He squeezes his eyes shut again as I unfasten his pants and yank them down. I
wrinkle my nose. He pissed himself.
“P-please, man,” he cries, sobs racking his throat. Snot leaks from his nose and into his mouth, and all I see is a man who’s only sorry he got caught. A man who was too arrogant and too stupid to think he wouldn’t suffer the
consequences for his actions. “Don’t do this.”
The cavern in my chest widens, devouring what was left of my conscience.
My soul has no place inside a monster.
So, I got rid of it.
“She’s being raped,” I tell him, my voice deepening with unbridled fury.
Those images haunt me. “Can you imagine by how many men?”
He shakes his head, his legs trembling as I yank down his boxers, glad that I’m wearing thick nylon gloves.
“It’s all I can think about,” I choke out on a whisper. “I’m plagued by the torture she must be suffering through. The pain and how she probably wants to die.”
And how I want to die.
I grab him between the legs, seeing nothing but a slideshow of Addie’s
torment on repeat. I could saw off my own fingers, and I’d hardly notice.
They’re hurting her. Scaring her. Making her cry.
The blade cuts through skin and muscle, eliciting a scream that horror movies
can’t imitate. That sound can only be born from the type of horror very few humans actually experience.
It sounds like music.
Is it the same sound Addie is making?
Blood spurts, painting Max and me in crimson. He sucks in a deep breath, preparing to let loose another scream no one else will ever hear, but then he passes out.
Pussy.
Quite literally now.
I switch the blade off, curl my fingers in his bottom teeth and yank it down,
and drop the now detached piece of skin down his throat. Then I work to cauterize the wound, preventing him from bleeding out while I’m gone.
I’m not quite done with him yet.
It wasn’t hard to track down where Luke lives. The imbecile posts his entire
life on social media anyway. Except for the fact that he’s keeping a girl hostage
in his house. They always seem to forget those details.
Indiscernible screaming can be heard through the doors of his home. A loud
crash follows, and I smile, already knowing I’m going to walk in on Daya giving
this guy hell.
I slide my pin into the keyhole and jam it, breaking the lock. And then I walk
into his house as if I’m walking into my favorite burger joint.
“Why do you always have to move?” Luke shouts from down the hallway. I
slide out my gun and start spinning the silencer on as I make my way towards the ruckus. “I’m trying to take care of you!”
When I round the corner, I stop short.
Daya is tied to a chair, tipped over on the side, with her arms trapped uncomfortably beneath her weight. She’s screaming through the tape stuck to her mouth, death radiating in her glare. When she spots me, her eyes widen, and then
she starts wriggling fiercely as if she’s trying to make her presence known.
Can’t really see her any clearer when she’s right in my face.
Noticing Daya’s reaction, Luke turns his head, and his own eyes pop open before he scrambles for his gun. I shoot the back of his knee before he makes it a step, feeling nothing even as he falls to the ground with an agonized shout.
“Simmer down, Daya,” I say, walking over to her. “I can see you. Wiggling
like a worm on a hook is only going to rub your skin even rawer.”
She huffs, impatiently waiting as I lift both her and the chair up as one, untie
her from the ropes, and help her up. She takes one look at me, noting the dark
circles under my eyes and the hollowness in my gaze, and wraps herself around
me.
I blink, freezing for a moment before I sling an arm around her. Immediately,
she breaks out into a fit of tears, her sobs vibrating my chest. I place a hand on
the back of her neck and squeeze reassuringly. It’s the only thing I can think to
do to let her know that I’m here and that she’s safe.
My throat is too tight to speak because as relieved as I am that Daya is okay,
I’m incapable of actually feeling it.
“Please tell me you know where she is,” she begs, clenching my hoodie in her
grip.
I sigh, grab her by the arms, and gently pull her away. She looks no better than I do. Her sage green eyes are bloodshot from crying, black, straight hair disheveled, and bruises mar her deep brown skin.
“Not yet,” I whisper, unable to speak the disappointing words any louder. Her
eyes close in defeat, but she nods her head.
“We’ll find her. We will.”
“What did he do to you?” I ask, bringing the conversation back to the parasite
dragging himself on the floor towards his gun. It’s resting on a coffee table ten
feet away from him. I turn and shoot the gun, sending it skidding across the floor
and under his white couch.
I bet not a single ass has ever sat on that thing.
“Nothing that I haven’t let him do before,” she mumbles.
I cock my head. “We both know this time around wasn’t consensual.”
She looks away, appearing embarrassed.
“You know you didn’t ask for any of this, right?” I remind her, shaking her just enough to emphasize my point. She nods her head, though she doesn’t look entirely convinced.
“Max is at my place. Let’s take care of Luke here. You can even release some
pent-up anger if you want.”