“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped. I pointed my blade at his face. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up!”
His dark eyes watched me. Then pointing my knife at his face, I growled, “You put me in that fucking cellar.” I pointed to the cellar’s hatch I knew was there. “You cut me with a blade, night after night, for fuck knows how long. You starved me. You left me in the fucking freezing cold.” Then my body tensed as I forced myself to say, “You raped me. You fucking raped me. You sick fucking cunt." I paused to gulp in more air, then continued in a deliberate voice. "Mama, Isaiah… you fucking ruined them. They died because of what you did to us all. You and that fucking church.”
This time he said shit back to me. He just stared. Stared at me with those fucking dead eyes. It incensed me. My body heated and the fucking blades in my hands felt heavy. I looked up to Viking, who had gone as still as a fucking stone, and commanded, "Keep his arms held down.”
Viking forced my poppa’s arms down. Standing above him, I turned the blade in my hands, then sliced down his arm. “One,” I growled, seeing blood pour from his wound as he sucked in a sharp breath. I sliced again, “Two,” and hissed when his teeth gritted together at the pain. I sliced again and again and again, my cock hardening at the sight of every spray of blood that hit my face. “Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten…” I slowly counted. The cunt’s arms were ripped to shreds, blood flowing to the floor. Then, with my pulse slamming in my neck, I slashed the blade over his thigh, and roared, “Eleven!”
My old man sagged on the table, eyes dazed.
Then, fighting sickness, I moved in closer and asked, “Why the fuck did you rape me?”
My poppa froze on the table. I pressed my blade to his cheek, and repeated, “Why the fuck did you rape me?”
My blade pressed further into crepe-thin skin the longer he was silent. Then he suddenly said, “To rid your flesh completely of sin. To punish you for taking your mama away from me.”
I stayed still, my blade pushed into his cheek, then I moved back. He was a sick fuck whose time was up.
I looked to the back of the room. I pointed to the hatch and ordered, “Vike, drag him over there.”
I stormed forward, then came to a complete fucking stop. I stared at that fucking hatch and, as I did, I couldn’t move a damn inch. The wood was scratched and worn through years of use. The lock was rusted, but still tight.
“Fuck, man,” Viking said beside me. “What kinda fucked up shit did you go through down there? I’m already wanting to snap this pedo’s neck. This cellar shit’s gonna tip me over the edge. ”
Not answering, I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Bending down, I forced myself to unbolt the lock and ripped the fucking door open on a snarl, its old rotting wood easily coming off at the hinges.
The cellar’s familiar stagnant smell of blood and cum immediately hit my nose. I had to fight back from puking at the stench. Just as I was about to order Viking to throw my poppa in there, head first, a movement from below caught my eye.
My heart stilled in my chest, then set off like a fucking bat out of hell when I saw a pair of sunken dark eyes looking back up at me. I blinked, I was sure I was fucking seeing things, but then a pale face slowly emerged into the light. I launched back against the wall, chest panting in shock.
AK rushed to my side. “What the fuck’s wrong?” he asked. Viking dropped my old man’s cut, alcoholic body to the floor behind him, and joined us.
I shook my head, then said, “Someone’s in there... Someone’s fucking in there!”
Viking and AK moved to the hatch and looked down. My stomach dropped as Viking shouted, “Fuck! Fuck, man, there’s a fucking kid down here!”
I watched, fucking frozen against the wall as Viking and AK bent down. AK turned round. “Fuck, Flame. Get here now.”