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Gripping the blade, I put the tip on the table and begin walking, circling it. The tip scrapes alongside me, only lifting it when passing one of the four holding him down. My eyes take him in, still draped in his black robe with the gold embellishment on the breast. Black dress shoes cover his feet.
As I reach Elijah, I whisper to him while keeping my eyes on my father, “Tear it open.”
Leaning forward, E grips the middle of the robe on either side of the seam and rips it open. The buttons pop off and fly away. Throwing it open underneath, he is wearing matching black trousers and a shirt.
“Thank you.” I whisper to E while touching his arm, signaling for him to step back again, that I’ve got this.
“Your mother would be ashamed, embarrassed even. Turning on your family like this?” My father taunts.
It works.
I react.
Before I can even think, I am slamming my blade into his armpit, which is directly in my line of vision thanks to the people holding his arms up.
A loud howl of pain follows.
Pulling the blade out, blood begins to soak into his shirt.
Instead of scolding him for speaking ill of my mother, the strong female who raised me, nurtured me and loved me until her last breath, I continue around the table until I reach the foot of it. His legs are spread, just like mine were that day before Elijah saved me.
It’s time to show him how it feels.
Dragging my blade, I start just above his ankle on the inside of his leg. I apply enough pressure as I move it slowly up his leg to cut the fabric of his pants, which also leaves a shallow cut on his skin. It barely produces any blood.
Watching my movements, I am captivated. Going past his knee and up his thigh, I stop as I reach the pelvis area. Hovering the blade over his manhood, I outline a figure-eight pattern over it, skimming the thin fabric.
His hips try to shimmy to get me to stop and his breathing becomes louder. I can hear his brain racing, trying to think of what to say in order to make this stop.
Nothing will work.
His efforts would be futile.
Applying some pressure, his hips buck, “Please don’t.”
Slowly look up, my eyes move across his chest and reach his face, “Would you have stopped if I asked?”
Keeping eye contact, he doesn’t respond. Which speaks louder than words and it is exactly what I expected.
Continuing on, I push the blade into his other leg, this time harder, and he winces. The tip cuts through the fabric and this time as I move down, blood trickles alongside. I know there is a major artery in the thigh. I hope I have hit it, but I have my doubts as blood isn’t pouring out like I feel it would if I had. Which is fine, as it gives me more time to play.
As I finish with this leg, the tip of my blade is stained crimson red, and satisfaction washes over me instead of the remorse I thought I would be feeling right now.
Stepping out from between the two people holding his legs, I move around to the other side of the table.
Do I end this quickly or prolong his anguish?
Reaching the top of his head, I notice his hair is damp from where Elijah hit him with the bat, it’s blood. I smile with pride. He is getting exactly what he deserves.
Gripping the handle of my dagger with both hands, I lift it over my head, keeping my eyes on the spot where I want it to go. Taking a deep breath in, as I exhale my arms lower with all my force behind them. As it pierces through his chest and stabs into his beating heart, it appears effortless as I watch myself, my hands wrapped around the handle. Pulling the blade out, I don’t waste time slamming it back in, one after another, repeatedly.
Hearing the slice of the blade into his skin each time is calming. I feel so fucking alive.
Blood splatters from each stab decorate my face and white dress. It doesn’t stop me, I keep going back for more. Relief and satisfaction wash over me.
A light touch graces my shoulder, breaking me from my spell. I immediately let go of the dagger, the handle is sticking out of his chest. Looking down, blood is coming from his nose and mouth. I completely blocked everything out after the first stab.
If he screamed, I didn’t hear it.
