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The horrible pain that shocks me awake as my anus is forced and torn.
The sharp sting of a blade making shallow cuts in my skin anytime I scream.
I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming in the middle of Libidine as someone bumps into me as they pass by.
“Oh, sorry, Jules.” It’s just Theo. I recognize his voice without having to see his face. That sweet voice gave me back so much power and autonomy in this place that has become my safe haven. Had. It’s not safe anymore. Not with him here. Here.
I fear I’m going to be stuck here all night, frozen and unable to move. Something as simple as putting one foot in front of the other to walk away feels like an impossible feat.
Until I see Stella try to stand.
Her legs quake and she misses the tabletop when she tries to set her drink down. The glass crashes to the floor, shattering, but the music and crowd buffer the sound. I recognize the glassed-over look in her eyes as sharply as the memories I can’t shake.
He’s drugged her just like he drugged me.
As soon as he wraps his arm around her waist to support her toppling frame, my feet move of their own accord. There’s not a single part of me, no matter how scared and traumatized I might be, that will let what happened to me happen to her.
I catch up with them and drape Stella’s arm over my shoulders so she’s sandwiched between us. “Stella, I can’t believe you were going to play without inviting me.” The words are straight acid on my tongue, burning and making me want to gag.
“You don’t mind if I join, do you?” I ask the monster.
His cold laugh in response threatens my resolve. “Not at all.”
I use my card to let us into the closest room, and as I see the St. Andrew’s cross in the middle, an idea begins to take root—and what twisted, gnarly roots they are.
I lead Stella to a bed in the corner and she flops onto it as if she’s spineless. Then, I turn my attention to him.
I don’t know what I say to get him strapped to the cross, it’s as if someone else is calling the shots, but I do know it was too easy. Pigs led around by their dicks deserve to die by their dicks.
I shove his monogrammed handkerchief in his mouth because I’d rather cut off my own ears with a rusty saw than hear one more word out of his mouth.
I take a moment to stand in front of him, bound and gagged and completely at my mercy. Part of me wants to rip off my mask and demand he remember me. Force him to face his horrid crimes. But a larger part of me doesn’t give a shit what he has to say. What could he possibly say?
I wouldn’t believe any apology, not when he’s clearly still up to his old, sick tricks. I don’t need his confession to know that my nightmares are real. The scars on my chest remind me they are every day.
There’s nothing I want from him.
Except to maybe experience a little of what I suffered at his hands.
An inhuman rush comes over me as I reach for the knife I always carry with me now. Or maybe it’s not inhuman at all. Revenge, retribution, vengeance . . . what could be more human?
The rooms are soundproof, so right before I start cutting his dick, I pull out the handkerchief to hear his screams. It doesn’t make up for all the nights I woke up screaming and covered in cold sweat, but it is some small consolation hearing the wretched pain in them.
Once it’s been completely severed, I shove the same cock he forced into my mouth into his.
He’s lost a lot of blood, and I’m not sure how conscious he even is, but when his eyes fly open as he gags, unable to breathe, I am satisfied he’s aware of what is happening.
I stand still now. Not frozen or paralyzed but in appreciation. Appreciation that his last moments will be filled with the same suffering he so callously inflicted.
When I go to wake up Stella, she struggles to sit up, startled and dazed. When she sees the scene before her, she screams. Disoriented and no doubt terrified, she stumbles off the bed.
I try to calm her down, but she shoves forward. Not knowing the kind of man he is, not knowing he got the least that he deserved, she tries to come to his aid. Tripping over herself, she falls on top of him. It only takes a few seconds for me to collect her but in that short time, she’s gotten blood all over her.
I curse, horrified as I realize what I’ve implicated her in.
The gravity of the situation and reality of what I’ve just done comes crashing over me as if broken out of some revenge-fueled haze.
In my panic, the only thing I can think to do is get her out of here.
