Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
What have I done…
Chapter 14
Twelve is not your number.
Grayson
I must be missing an emotional part of my brain. The part where remorse is housed. I mean, it has to be, right?
To do what I do and feel no remorse.
Something has to be wrong with me, right?
I observe him as he gets out of his car, locks it, and walks into his house.
He is dressed in the same clothes he had on at the restaurant. Except now he has a weird gait, most likely because he’s drunk.
I sit there, watching him.
Usually, I like to wait until they are asleep, but this man, he deserves to see every second of me.
I walk up behind him as he fumbles with the door. As soon as the lock clicks and he pushes it open, my hand covers his mouth. I push him inside and kick the door shut behind us.
He really did pick the wrong woman.
Or maybe I did?
I’m not sure which.
He tries to bite me, and I quickly pull my leather-gloved hand away as I kick him down to his knees.
“You,” he says when he sees me.
“Me.” I smile at him. “I would suggest you don’t scream. Each scream will require me to take a body part from you and I must say, it’s not quite my specialty. Mine is ending you when you sleep. But don’t worry, we still have time for that later on.” I lock the door and push a chair against it. He sprints for the kitchen, but I kick out my leg and he falls face-first to the floor, too intoxicated to catch himself. His nose catches the brunt of it, and blood soaks the front of him as he starts to cry, and lets out a soft scream when he does..
“You really don’t listen, do you?” I shake my head and bend down. “How many women have you raped? Give me the wrong answer and I’ll remove a finger.”
“None.”
“Wrong.” I smile, reach for my knife, and before he can pull away or even think of another thing to say, I slice off the tip of his pinkie.
This knife is sharp. I guess I’ll have to thank the Hunters later for lending it to me.
He opens his mouth to scream, and I clamp my hand over his mouth again. His nostrils flare open and shut as his adrenaline spikes and he fights off the hysteria. “I’m going to remove my hand but you’re going to have to be really quiet. We’re making quite a mess here and cleaning this all up is going to put me in a mood. One you don’t want to be on the receiving end of. Do you understand?”
The fucker nods his head frantically as he sucks at the air, desperately trying to fill his panicked lungs. I slowly remove my hand. “Fuck, how could you?” His other hand clutches his fingers as he looks down at his pinkie on the ground.
“How many women have you raped?” I ask again, ignoring his question. People like him keep count. I know they do.
He keeps sniveling and staring at his finger like it’s the worst thing that’s happened to him. This fucker doesn’t have a clue what pain is. I wipe the blood on his pants, real close to his groin. His eyes widen and instead of looking at his missing digit he stares at the silhouette of the knife dangerously close to his junk. To prove my point, I press the knife through his pants and into the soft flesh of his dick. I’m moments away from making this loser pee sitting down for the rest of his life. Which to be fair isn’t going to be very long. “I’m not going to ask again.”
“Twelve. Twelve, it’s twelve” he says, and now I believe him.
I stand and leave him on the floor in his own blood as I explore his home. He doesn’t move this time, knowing better. I walk into his kitchen which is neat with not a plate out of place.
Pulling open the drawers, I take note of everything. Each space is just as organized.
Walking back to him, I look down at his pathetic body.
“Get up.” He does, albeit reluctantly, and follows me. I lead him to his room. “You can get in your bed.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt her,” he blubbers, sitting on the edge of the mattress. I head into his closet and pull things out. When I get to the stash, I smile. Walking back over to him, I place the drugs next to him.
“Take them,” I order. He reaches for them, holding the bag in his good hand. I shake my head. “You misunderstood. Take them.”
His terror-filled eyes search mine.
I nod my head.
“I can’t. It’ll kill me,” he says on a sob.
“Take them or lose another finger.” He pulls one from the bag and places it in his mouth. “Swallow.” I watch as he gulps it down. “Another,” He reaches for another pill his hand shaking so hard he drops it twice before he’s able to bring it to his lips. It takes him some time to swallow, I guess if I was a better man I could offer him some water to help them go down. Too bad I’m not. “Now, one more for good luck,” I order, my voice deathly calm.