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“Scream for me, Roger,” I purr, “just like you used to tell me to do.”
I cut again and again, slicing pieces away. A sliver here. An ear there. A finger when he points it at me. The sound of my knife cutting through skin is one I’ll never forget. I take pieces off his body as if I’m preparing jerky. Each time, I toss the pieces over to Freedom, and she tears into them, much to Roger’s horror. He tries to scramble away and cut me at the same time, but with each slice of my blade, he loses more strength. Blood covers the floor, making him slip and slide. At some point, he stops coming for me and focuses only on getting away.
“What’s the matter, dear husband?” I coo. “I thought you were going to teach me a lesson?”
“You’re a crazy bitch,” he spits, but it lacks his usual venom when he moans in pain. Cards stick out of his skin all over his body, buried deeply. He’s bleeding everywhere. Soon, he’ll pass out from blood loss, but I want it to hurt badly first.
I flick my fingers, and a queen card appears between them. “That’s not very nice,” I tell him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you gentlemen don’t call ladies a bitch?” I tilt my head. “Of course, you’re not supposed to hit a lady either, but here we are.”
I shoot the queen card at his face, grinning when it hits his eye and digs in. He screams, the sound shrill and desperate.
“You don’t want to do this,” he implores. “I’m your husband, Ember!”
I laugh. “You aren’t my husband. You’re just a bug that needs to be squashed.”
Freedom paces around the room, eager to join in. As if realizing I’ve been keeping all the fun for myself, I straighten and look over at her. Our eyes meet, and she stalks forward, rubbing her face against my thigh.
Looking down at him, I say, “I used to be weak, but I’m not anymore. Now I save people from monsters like you. I hunt the demons down and make them pay.” I squat. “And I really, really enjoy killing them. They deserve every bit of pain they get, just like you do.”
He starts to sob, but I feel nothing except satisfaction. “Please, don’t,” he croaks. “Please.”
“You had your chance to leave me alone,” I say, watching him. “You could have lived if you just stayed away, but now, my mercy has run out. It was misplaced. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve my kindness. You certainly don’t deserve life,” I sneer before slamming my knife into his kneecap.
He screams, sheer terror in the sound.
I’m done now. I’ve done what I came here to do. The thing is, I meant what I said. Roger Campbell doesn’t deserve to live. I won’t let this monster walk free so he can harm someone else. I’m doing the world a service. I should get an award or something.
“Freedom,” I say as I straighten. She looks up at me. “Your turn.”
She roars and lunges forward. Roger screams as she buries her teeth in his stomach. The crunch is deafening as she pulls away. His skin stretches and tears, revealing his insides. He looks down at the wound with wide eyes. His cry is strangled, and as if Freedom finds it annoying, she lunges for his neck and chomps down. The sound cuts off, turning to a wet gurgle as she tears out his esophagus. He finally stops moving.
There’s no coming back from that.
“Good girl,” I tell her, smiling brightly at the mess that used to be my husband.
Clapping and whistling comes abruptly from behind me, and I turn, surprised to find Heart, Diamond, Club, and Spade there, their eyes alight with fire. They cheer me on as if I’m an actor putting on a show. I never even heard them enter. I wonder how long they’ve been there, how long they watched, but judging from their expressions, they saw pretty much everything.
Grinning, I take a bow, making them cheer louder.
I pick up my knife as Freedom munches on Roger’s lifeless body and lean down.
“Excuse me, girl,” I tell her. “I have a gift to give.”
I press the blade into his chest cavity, carving into his ribcage until I can reach in and wrap my fingers around his heart. With violence that I taste in my bones, I yank it out. It’s still warm in my hand as I turn and walk up to my men, stopping before Heart.
“A gift,” I tell him as I hold out the bleeding organ. “A heart for Heart to make up for your injury.”
He squeals and claps his hands to his cheeks. “Ah! You shouldn’t have!” He takes the heart and holds it up like a trophy for the others to see. “My queen gave me her husband’s heart!”
The others laugh and cheer, and I can’t help but join in.
All the while, Freedom feasts behind us.
Offering them my bloody hands, I grin widely. “Let’s go home.”
It’s done.
It’s finally over.
