Текст книги "Stain"
Автор книги: Francette Phal
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
“Max…”
I grin, thumbing at her lip, “You should call me that more often. I like the way it sounds coming from your mouth. Now,” my eyes trail down her button nose and land on her plump pout. “Lick. Your. Lips.”
My dick throbs when she slips her tongue out to lick her bottom lip and it strokes along my thumb. She pulls it between her lips, and the heat from her mouth and the erotic slide of her tongue has me on her in a flash. I take her face between my hands, mold my mouth to hers, and taste the sweetness of her mouth. I’m ready to be inside her heat again when the loud call of, “MADDOX!” brings me back to the goddamn cock-blocker, Willkie.
“I’m coming back and we’re continuing this.” With one last kiss, I reluctantly turn my back to her to answer the door. Piece of shit better have a good reason for why he’s at my place right now.
“Yeah, yeah, hold the fuck up,” I grumble when he knocks again.
Opening the door, I’m ready to ask him what the fuck is up when he barges past me. “Dro got taken in, man. His garage got raided, it’s swarming with cops. I wasn’t there but Baz was. He called me half an hour ago, said shit was bad.” Everything falls to the wayside as I jump into action.
“Where is he now?”
“Downtown. Haven’t heard anything from Baz since it went down.”
Heading back to my room, I tell him over my shoulder, “Let me grab a few things and we’ll head out.” In my bedroom I find Aylee on the bed just how I left her minutes ago. She looks at me expectantly, trustingly, with love so blindingly beautiful that all I want to do is dive into its brilliance and swim its purity. It quickly becomes clear to me that my priorities are shifting when my first thought is not Dro but her and her safety. I want to keep her here but it’s not safe. Instinct tells me it’s only a matter of time before the cops come, swarming this place. Only four people know that the garage is where Dro keeps most of his products and launders his drug money through the car shop front. If the cops know about the garage then that means we have a rat. Someone fucking snitched to the 5-0, and whatever deal the son of a bitch made he better make damn sure he’s going to get some deep witness protection because we’re going to drop his ass once we find him.
There’s no way I’m taking a fucking chance on the cops coming here and finding Aylee. It suddenly hits me that her old man is a cop and with my mind racing from one point to another, I’m thinking he had a hand in the raid.
Jesus, fuck.
“Everything all right?”
I nod. “My foster dad’s garage was raided. Cops took him in.” Funny how rather than lie or omitting details, I find myself telling her the truth.
A small frown of genuine concern brings her brows together. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you know what happened? How serious is it?”
Heading over to my dresser, I grab my phone that I muted earlier and look down at the screen to find twenty messages and ten missed calls. Fuck. Most of the texts are from Wynn. They’re all coded. To anyone else reading them they wouldn’t make much sense but she’s freaking out about the rest of the stash in the apartment. “I don’t have all the details. But I plan on finding out.”
Replying to her text in code, I let her know I’ll take care of the products and cash we have stashed in various places around the apartment before putting my phone in my back pocket.
“Aylee, I hate to do this…”
She holds up a hand and smiles. “You don’t need to explain, I totally get it.” She comes to her feet and searches around for her clothes. “I understand he needs you right now.”
I help her slip her shirt back on and can’t help dropping a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. “You don’t know how badly I want to keep you.”
Setting her hands on my shoulders, she rises to her toes. “I’m yours,” she whispers with a kiss. “Keep me, Max.”
Yeah, so damned fucked. And the most terrifying thing is I don’t mind it at all.
***
Aylee
It’s nearing eight pm when he drops me off about a block away from my house. From his idling truck he asks for my phone, and as soon as I’m done rummaging through my bag to find it I put it in his hand. Peering over, I see him pull up the keypad, he enters a number before inserting his contact simply under the letter M. Handing the phone back, he silently hops out of the truck, coming around to stand with me on the sidewalk. I don’t want him to leave but I remember that his foster father needs him, and I curb my selfishness. He closes the space between us in one long stride. Cupping my face between his hands, he leans in to kiss me ever so slowly. Then he pulls away but keeps his forehead against mine.
“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.”
I sigh, the action of walking away is brutally painful. “I won’t. I hope your foster father is okay.”
My only sliver of comfort is that he doesn’t seem like he wants to leave either. “I’ll text you, let you know what’s happening. Try to head to your room and lock the door. I’ll come back for you—”
There’s a long honk from the black Accord that pulls up behind where Maddox’s truck is parked followed by, “Yo, Maddox, let’s go!”
“Go, I’ll be okay.” I put a hand on his chest to push him away but he doesn’t budge. I glance up curiously. “Max?”
He lets me go only to unhook the sterling chain bracelet from his wrist. Taking my hand, he double wraps it around my left wrist before closing the clasp. “Stay safe for me, all right?” he asks softly after he kisses me.
“I will. I…” Love you gets stuck in my throat. “I will. Go, or your friend is going to have an aneurysm.”
He chuckles and presses one last kiss to my forehead before running to hop in the driver’s seat and takes off. I don’t start walking until I see the taillights of his truck disappear around the corner.
I hitch my backpack further up my shoulders as I steadily make my way to the house. I dread every single step. Even though I went through that earlier process of telling Rachel I’d spend the night at Mallory’s, I’m sure she won’t complain if I tell her I changed my mind and decided to come home instead. Roughly five minutes later, I’m walking up to the front door. I frown at the sight of the very familiar white Mercedes parked next to the Durango in the driveway, occupying the space where Rachel’s Acura is usually parked. I can only assume Rachel isn’t home. But what brings on the intense wave of panic is the thought that Mallory is at my house. Am I about to be busted for lying?
Why is she here? She told me she’d cover for me in her earlier text, so what the hell is she doing here?
Once inside, I just need to make it upstairs without anyone noticing me. And I’m praying she has a good excuse as to why she’s here and hope she isn’t trying to get me in trouble. I know she doesn’t care for Maddox but this is ridiculous. I’m also hoping that Rachel won’t tell Tim of my plans. But deep down I know that’s not the case, because Rachel tells Tim everything. I’m praying so hard that this time she won’t. I pray wherever she is now, it’s preventing her from calling him. The weight of lead is in my next footsteps as I open the door and silently head inside, closing it behind me. The foyer is dark but there are lights on in the kitchen. Leaving my bag at the door, I search the far left wall for the nearest light switch. I jiggle it up and down but nothing happens. The bulb must’ve burnt out, I muse mindlessly.
Turning to my right, I come to a stop just below the staircase and listen to the almost eerie quietness of the house. It’s never this quiet. Rachel or Sarah can be trusted to always make noises. And I know Rachel isn’t home, but I’m hoping Sarah is here. I head upstairs, cringing when the stairs creak. I’m holding my breath, praying I make it to my room before Tim creeps out of the shadows somewhere. And then I hear it. A succession of breathy giggles that come before the familiar alto of Mallory’s voice. It’s coming from down the hall. It’s coming from inside Rachel and Tim’s bedroom.
Chapter 23
Aylee
Going against my better judgement, I tentatively make my way down the hall.
The sound of Mallory’s voice speaking to Tim so casually turns my stomach. “This is pretty ballsy of you, inviting me to come over when Rachel could come home any time now.”
“She won’t be,” he replies cockily. “I arranged a last-minute spa weekend for her and Sarah. They’re not coming back until Sunday.”
The sounds of my footsteps are consumed by the carpet and I’m grateful that it muffles the creaky floorboards. I come to their door that’s been left slightly ajar, and another one of Mallory’s giggles deepens my frown. She only giggles like that when she’s high. “So that gives us a few hours before I have to go get Aylee.”
“And where exactly did you say she was again?”
“Working on an art project for her portfolio at school.”
At the sound of rustling, I give into morbid curiosity and look inside.
“You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”
With my eyes wide, I take in the scene in the bedroom, and utter shock instantly turns to hot, bitter disgust that pushes up from the floor of my stomach to burn my throat. Tim is on the bed, Mallory is completely naked sitting between his legs. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Daddy. I’m your good little girl, always have been.”
“Hmm, you were my good little girl. Now you’re just a filthy little slut who’ll fuck anything for a high.”
“That’s not true. I’m just as pure as the night you first fucked me. I’m just a little more experienced, but I’m still your good girl. I’m way better than Aylee...”
He rears his hand back and slams it across her cheek at the same moment that he roars, “Shut the fuck up!” I wince and cringe as if he’d struck me, remembering all too clearly the pain of my own abuse at this man’s hands.
“You don’t talk about her with your filthy whore mouth!”
With the blow knocking her to one side of the floor, Mallory rights herself as though nothing happened, running her hands up and down his thighs. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Let me ride you and show you how sorry I am.”
He yanks her up to her feet. “Get on this fat dick then. Ride until I come inside you.”
She turns around and my whole world stops. In the muting darkness of the hallway, I know she can’t see me, and yet, when she lowers herself slowly onto Tim’s erection, her kohl-rimmed blue eyes perforate through the slice of the open door and impales me with her stare. Her crimson red mouth pulls up at the corners into an evil, smug grin, and I know in that instant that I’ve never had a best friend.
“Aylee!” She feigns surprise, jumping to her feet to grab a blanket and covering her body. “It’s not what it looks like.” She races to the door with Tim only seconds behind her.
With blood running cold, I take off down the hallway that suddenly feels so endless. Tim’s barreling footsteps echo in my bones.
“AYLEE!”
The boom of his voice rattles my nerves and shakes my heart. Panic sets in and mingles with the pervasive storm of fear churning in my body. If I stop now, I know he’ll catch and hurt me. And suddenly the idea of suffering one more minute under his hand brings on a surge of such utter contempt that I’m bowling over by its force. I refuse to play his victim. I won’t let him hurt me. Not without a fight.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I hitch my skirt farther up my legs and lengthen my strides. The staircase is just a few feet away but I dash inside my room instead knowing if I can close and lock the door it’ll buy me time to escape out of my bedroom window. It’s a hasty plan, not thought out properly, but I hope it works. Scurrying to swing the door shut, I’m stunned when one hard shove of his shoulder into the door sends me flying backward.
I land on my butt, my legs in front of me, and my hands behind me break my fall. In the doorway, he stands breathing hard, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“Aylee…?” My eyes shift for a millisecond to Mallory who’s standing just behind Tim’s left shoulder. “Sweetie, what are you doing here? I thought I was picking you up from Maddox’s apartment?”
My blood chills to arctic degrees and my heart sinks heavily to the floor. My eyes dart back to Tim’s face to find it contorting into a dark, sinister mask of pure fury. He only takes the time to slam close and lock my bedroom door behind him, leaving Mallory in the hall, before he trudges toward me. “Hey,” she whines, pounding on the door.
Surging to my feet, I race toward my bathroom…but I don’t make it. Crying out as he snatches me by the hair, I’m left grappling with my fear once again when he yanks me back and tosses me on my bed. I bounce, the wind knocks out of me, my scalp burning as I try to get up, try to scramble off the bed, but he leaps and lands on me like a rabid jungle cat. Mallory screams from behind the door, but he continues.
“Tell me you didn’t let that piece of shit touch you!” Spittle splashes across my face as he yanks my head off the bed, “You’re still a virgin! Tell me you’re still my little flower!” Cruelly, he twists a hand in my hair, gripping so tightly my scalp burns. “Tell me you didn’t give him what’s mine! TELL ME!” he roars, and fear like I’ve never known before suffocates every inch of me.
He looks so frightening. Imbalance, crazy, very nearly maniacal, and I know I won’t escape his clutches without permanent damage. Looking into the abyss of his dark, dark eyes, I face my mortality. He won’t let me live. And I no longer care.
“I gave him every inch of me. I let him lick and eat every part of my pussy until I came and came and came all over his tongue. And then I spread my legs and begged him to take my virginity. He fucked me hard and slow and so deep that I never wanted him to stop. And not once, not even a fucking millisecond did I think about you. You are a nonfactor. You do not exist. He erased your sickening, revolting touch from my soul and tattooed love there. You no longer matter. What you did no longer matters. I look at you and all you are is a sad, pathetic waste of humanity.”
The punch comes down like a battering ram against the side of my face. I can’t describe the stunning pain, but it pushes the air from my lungs and blinds me. But there’s only instinct, and while I fight and twist and kick to get away, his strength is so much more than mine. The weight of his fury drops down on me like a cart filled with anvils, each one of his raining punches depleting me of everything. I can’t think. I can’t cry. All that occurs is the staggering wave upon wave of brutal agony.
And then he hurts me in another way. He shoves up my skirt, rips my underwear, wrenches my thighs wide open, and rends me in two as he impales himself with one brutal thrust. He rips my shirt, yanking like a madman, rips my bra, and then attacks my chest. Squeezing my breasts painfully, sucking so hard at my nipples, and clamping his teeth down on my flesh with such cruelty that he draws blood.
Tears trickle down the sides of my beaten face from eyes that are now swollen shut as I scream until my vocal cords tear. He rots on top of me like a dying animal. His hot breath wafts across my wet face.
“That’s right, you fucking little whore, scream for me. This is me inside you now, bitch. I should’ve popped your fucking cherry years ago. I had to settle for Mallory instead. But she was hungry for it. Do you know how old she was when she gave it to me, baby girl? Hmm?” He slithers his tongue up my neck. “Ripe little thirteen. Just when you met her.” And he breathes hard in my ear. Mallory’s beating fists continue to echo in my ears, but soon her knocks disappear, and his grunts are the only sounds I hear. I turn my head away as sickness jumps to my throat. Three hard swallows sends the acid wash of bile back down. My head hangs limply as I start to die inside.
Every part of me is grateful that Maddox took my virginity. That he showed me how sweet and tender and beautiful it could be. Because what Tim is doing is beyond savage. My head jerks up and crashes back down as he flips me on my stomach, spreads my butt cheeks, and viciously tears through the tight ring of my anus. A sob escapes my lips. It’s too much. Too damn much. The excruciating torture is unbearable and yet my body won’t shut down. Make it end, God, please make it stop. My thoughts become hazy before my mind snaps. He shoves the side of my face into my pastel pink, peony blanket, and I breathe in shallow, hot air as I stare through narrowing, heavy eyes at the glinting sterling bracelet double wrapped around my wrist.
Maddox. My mind wraps his name around me like a blanket, sheltering me from my cryptic thoughts. Maddox. Max. It mewls at first. I’m not here in this bedroom. I’m on that cargo container, high in the air, in the massive parking lot, and Max is there. He’s lying next to me. Side by side, arms touching, hands interlacing between out warm bodies, and we stare up at the black sky that’s twinkling with stars. It’s a perfect, perfect moment.
“Aylee.” He comes into view, my own beautiful falling star, and sends my heart fluttering when he grins with that roguish charm. “I love you.” In my mind, he says the words he can’t say in reality, and they’re so sweet. So tender that when he kisses me, I come undone by the sheer force of his love for me. My body experiences the brutality of my present, but in my mind I’m soaking in love, and it’s where I will stay.
***
Mallory
Listening to the awful sounds of Aylee’s screams and the personal knowledge of just how violent Tim can be, I don’t realize what I’ve just done until Tim slams the door in my face. Currently shaking with absolute terror, I stand in front of my best friend’s bedroom door listening while her foster father rapes her. I’ve pushed too far. I didn’t mean to—
The shakes get worse. They intensify with each second that passes. And I don’t know if it’s the drugs or my nerves, but I need to do something. Anything. Jumping into action, I run down the stairs and nearly trip over Aylee’s backpack. Bending down and rummaging through it, I find what I’m looking for. There’s a text on the screen of her phone.
Checking to see if you’re okay.
Let me know.
The text is from a contact marked only as M. But I know who it is. I ponder simply texting him, but change my mind at the last minute.
He picks up on the first ring.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greets, like that’s her name, and sudden envy at the affection in his voice causes me to grow silent. Too silent.
“Aylee?” he questions. And I snap out of it.
“Maddox.”
“Who the fuck is this?”
Well, at least he knows Aylee’s voice. “It’s Mallory—”
“Where is she?” There’s no mistaking the frost in his voice through the phone line, and instantly I shudder. Maddox Moore is not someone you fuck with—not even a little.
“You need to come…her dad…just hurry and get here.”
With trembling hands, I hang up on Maddox and dial 9-1-1. Everything after that passes by in a flash. I stick around long enough to give the operator the address of the emergency before hurrying upstairs to put my clothes on, grab my bag and keys, and run as fast as I can out of the house. My high is wearing off. I can’t be here. And the need to go score something strong enough to make me forget my part in all of this takes over. Once I’m in my Mercedes, I send up a brief prayer that Aylee survives this. But I know better. God forsook me a very long time ago. So my prayer is really to no one at all.
Chapter 24
Maddox
I don’t know why the bitch has Aylee’s phone, and for a second there I’m ready to tell her off, but then her words bring my world to a screeching stop. I’m outside the precinct grabbing a smoke with Willkie. Just as we expected, they wouldn’t tell us shit about Dro. So we’ve been here for the last hour waiting. But then the call changes everything. I can’t move fast enough. Flicking my cigarette away, I make a run for my truck.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Willkie yells after me.
“Something’s come up. I gotta handle this,” I reply back from the middle of the parking lot.
“What about Dro?”
“It’s my girl,” I say, without hesitation. It’s always going to be Aylee first now. “I gotta go. Keep me posted.”
I drive like I’m on something. My truck is shit when it comes to speed, but I break every traffic law to get to the other side of town in half the time it would normally take me. I turn on her street and my blood runs cold at the sight of the ambulance, fire truck, and police cruisers stationed in front of her house. I park about a block away, almost exactly where I dropped her off earlier, and gun down the street like an Olympic sprinter.
There’s a crowd of her neighbors gathered, and I shove and shoulder through them to make it to the other side just in time to see them hoist her in the back of the ambulance and slam the doors shut.
“She’s always been such a sweet girl, I can’t believe what happened to her.”
“Anyone know what happened?”
“Someone said she got beat up pretty badly.”
“Yeah, I just overheard her dad give a statement to the police. Apparently she has a boyfriend who’s been abusing her. He said he walked in on the guy raping her.”
“God, that’s terrible! Can you imagine seeing that happening to your daughter?”
“I know…it’s awful. Poor girl.”
Beat up. Rape. Beat up. Rape. Rape. Rape. I only pick out those words and they play on a loop inside my head, feeding the flames of white-hot rage thrashing inside of me. I know without a doubt I’m going to castrate her old man. That’s a promise I intend to keep to myself. But first I need to see her. I have to know she’ll be okay. I have to touch her. I follow behind the ambulance and it’s not until I get to the ER’s front desk that I realize they’re not going to let me see her. I have no familial connection to her. Hours and hours pass. I lurk in the halls, dodging her old man. Her foster mother eventually shows up with a little girl that looks exactly like her. Teary-eyed, they all wait on news from the doctor.
I come and go, but I never leave the hospital parking lot.
Let her be okay. Let her be okay. Goddamn it, let her be okay.
“If you’re listening up there, I don’t believe in this shit. But she’s too damn important to leave it all up to fate. So I’m asking. If you’re up there, don’t let her die. You gave her to me. You put her in my life, you can’t just take her away now. Don’t fucking take her away from me. I need her too damn much.” I rear my fist back and slam it into the steering wheel. Nobody is listening, and I feel like a fucking idiot for thinking so.
The driver’s seat of my truck becomes my mattress, but I don’t sleep. I have my eyes closed, my arms folded across my chest, and I’m planning. Plotting. My mind races. It’s around five a.m. that I head back inside again. Her family is gone. Taking my chances with a new set of nurses, I luck out when one of them gives me the okay to head to her room.
“Five minutes.”
That’s all she gives me. But it’s five minutes more than I’ve gotten since they brought her here. I plan on taking advantage of every second.
My emotions nosedive when I see her. So damn small on that hospital bed. Fragile, broken, wires and tubes coming out of her body. All I want to do is pull her free and hold her to me. But I know if I do I’ll only hurt her more. It’s a physical ache seeing her like this. I feel the wound deep inside my chest. I walk to her side and blink fast, breathe faster, and swallow around the lump forming in my throat. She’s all banged up. Covered in so many bruises. My hand shakes so fucking badly when I reach for hers.
“Hey…” This is one of my worst fears. Failing to protect her like I said I would. If I’d kept her with me…followed my instinct, and told her to stay rather than do what was right and drop her off, that coward wouldn’t have done this. But then it hits me how stupid that logic is. If he hadn’t done it today, he would’ve done it another day, another time, or whenever the hell he felt like it. Abusers aren’t dictated by time.
“Open your beautiful eyes and look at me, Aylee.” I lean down to gently kiss both her swollen eyes, and that physical ache, that wound, rips further open, stretching wide to show the raw meat of torment I feel for her. Nothing and no one has ever broken through the wall of anger and numbness inside of me.
I can’t even remember the last time I cried for myself or anyone else. I don’t remember crying when my mother blew her head off and even before that while suffering the fucker’s abuse. I am not the one who cried. Noah cried. I raged. But my anger bows in the face of Aylee’s injuries. Anger I know. I can handle it. I can use it. I don’t know what to do with this sadness. It makes me feel weak, powerless, and fucking I hate it. “Aylee?” I whisper her name like it’s my own little prayer, my forehead pressing to hers, and I interlock our fingers and grip her tight because…she’s my lifeline. “You need to wake up and give me purpose again. I didn’t know I was missing something until you came and filled me with you. You’re curled up inside of me now. I’m no good at this shit, Aylee. But I need you to know I’m living for you now. So I need you to wake up and give me a future. Because you’re it.” My eyes slam shut but it’s not enough to keep my tears from falling. I grit my teeth against the sorrow, fight it like it’s an enemy. But it wins. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, lips to lips, I let the tears come. I feel no shame. With her, there’s no shame. I breathe her in. Breathe for her. Breathe for me. Because there’s no me without her. “I love you.” I breathe it against her lips. “I love you so damn much, Aylee.” When I feel the smallest twitch of her fingers trying to squeeze mine, I know she hears me. Keeping our fingers interlocking tightly, I bring hers to my lips and press a kiss to her knuckles.
Her eyes don’t open. She doesn’t wake up. But I know she knows I’m here. I can feel it, down to my bones. The nurse comes in five minutes later, and it takes everything I have in me to drag myself away from her bedside. Before I do, I take her in, memorize every single bruise and swollen part of her body. I imagine the sort of agony she went through, imagine the terror she felt when he held her down, the tears she cried when he violated her body. I take it all in and lock it away. Reference for later.
When I leave her side, it’s with the acid fuel of vengeance coursing through my veins.
I’ve got Willkie and Wynn both texting me. The former wants to know where the hell I am, and the latter is asking questions she should already have answers to. But neither of them are my priority. I’ve got a plan, a one-track mind, and the cop is in my tunnel vision. I won’t focus on anything else until I do what I need to. I peel out of the hospital parking lot, making my way to their house, and park my truck a few blocks away. They have a shed out in the back of their house. I make myself comfortable. No food. Just a bottle of water I use to keep hydrated. An entire day passes, night falls, and I wait until the very last possible second before I come out of the shed with my sledgehammer dangling at my side and other tools in my jean pockets. Heading to the electric box cover hanging on the back panel wall of the house and digging into my pocket, I use the pliers in my hand to break through the lock before slipping them back inside my back pocket. I give it a brief once-over. Opening the box, I pull at all the wires until I’m sure I’ve got them all. There won’t be any light when I get inside. Aylee’s foster mother and sister are at the hospital. I saw them leave a bit ago and they haven’t come back. It doesn’t really matter, because I’m not planning on staying too long. I know the cop is home and he’s all I want anyway.
Jimmying the back door lock isn’t a problem. I’m inside. I should be a little nervous entering the house of a cop, but I’m pretty fucking calm. I hear footsteps and I duck around the kitchen wall. He’s getting closer...closer…probably coming to check on the circuit box. I wait for him, my grip around my sledgehammer strong and tight. He walks past me and I come out behind him swinging, aiming for the back of his right knee. He falls down with a roar and it’s a sound I plan on making last.
“People like you shouldn’t be allowed to exist,” I utter quietly while pulling my phone out from the other back pocket. A quick search in my apps and I find what I’m looking for. The kitchen is suddenly flooding with pure, bright white light from the flashlight app. I set my phone down on the kitchen table before returning my attention to Tim. “You think you can hurt innocent people, children, and just get away with it? And you probably did for a while. This whole time you probably thought you fucked with Aylee’s mind so much that she would never tell anyone about what you did.” The asshole starts to move. He’s trying to crawl away. But I’m not close to being done with him yet. I raise the hammer and slam it down with full force on his kneecap, more than likely shattering the bones from the way he screams. “But you underestimated her, Timmy Boy. She told me everything.” I watch him fall back onto the tile floor, taking in gasping breaths, his face scrunching up in pain.
“Wha…what the fuck…do you…want?” I can barely make out the hiccupping words, but I get the gist of it.
“I want you to know that you’re not getting out of here alive. If you do, you’re gonna wish you were dead.” I approach him, and he still has a voice to scream when I kick at his feet, spreading them in opposite directions. I bring the hammer between his legs, right up against his dick and nut sac, and I press down with all my might. “I want you to feel every single bit of pain she felt, you fucking bastard.”
I go for his arms and hands next. Crushing elbows joints and all ten beefy fingers like I’m tenderizing meat.
He can’t move now. Sure, he’s twitching, flopping around like a fish out of water, but he’s not going anywhere. A close look at his limbs shows just how badly they’re all mangled, and shattered to pieces. There’s only screaming, cursing, and blubbering.
