Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
He tries to look away, which only infuriates me more, and I press my forearm deeper against his throat so he will look. He doesn’t get to look away from her. He never showed her any respect the night he raped and murdered her. But he will fucking show it to her now.
He’s terrified, but even in death, his depravity gets the better of him. A darkness known only by the truly depraved enters his eyes. “Oh yeah, her… that ripe piece of pussy in Jacksonville.”
Rage flies through me. I shove Belle’s picture back into my pocket and slide my knife from the sheath on my hip.
It was his semen found inside Belle.
It was his semen found in her mouth.
Not that the court ever heard about it.
“You will not disrespect her again. Do you fucking understand me?” I push harder on his throat and slide the blade of my knife down his cheek. “Now before I lose my patience, I want to hear you say that you’re sorry.”
His eyes widen with fear. “W-what?”
“Don’t make me tell you twice, motherfucker. I want to hear you say, I am sorry for raping and killing that innocent seventeen-year-old girl back in Jacksonville all those years ago.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries.
Of course, he’s not sorry for what he did. The only thing he’s sorry about is me knowing it was him and his two buddies who stumbled across Belle and me shortly after we’d left the abandoned theater.
How I know… they hit me from behind with an iron bar, knocking me out instantly.
That I know… every graphic detail of what they did to her as I lay unconscious on the roadside, useless and out cold.
That it was him who snapped her neck after they’d had their fun.
I dig the tip of the blade into his cheek, drawing first blood, and he winces.
“I said I was sorry,” he blubbers. “What… what do you w-want from m-me?”
“I want you to beg,” I growl. “Just like she would’ve begged for her life when you were violating her.”
His eyes cloud with panic. “Let me go, and I’ll make it worth your while. I’ve got money. Back at the trailer. It’s yours, all yours. Just don’t fucking kill me.”
“Go on.”
“I can get you whatever you need. You name it. My name means something around here.” It doesn’t. “You want grade-A pussy or cock? Money? Blow? Tell me. I’ll get you anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Yes. Anything. Just, please don’t kill me.”
I ease my hold on him a little. “Fine. I want you to say I am a raping son of bitch, and I deserve to go to hell for what I did.”
“W-what?”
I grit my teeth. “Say it.”
“Okay… okay… I’m a raping son of a bitch, and I deserve to go to hell for what I did.”
“Again.”
“W-what?”
“Say it again, asshole.” I drag my knife down his cheek.
“I’m a raping son of a bitch, and I deserve to go to hell for what I did.” He’s shaking. “There, I said it. I did what you asked, man.”
“I haven’t finished. Now, I want you to beg for your life.”
“Please don’t kill me. I’m sorry. I am. I was just a kid, man. We didn’t know any better.”
I sigh. “You’re not very good at the whole begging thing, are you? I want tears, loser. I want to see you ugly cry.” I dig the blade into his cheek, nothing deep, just enough to draw blood and cause pain. “I want to hear you beg.”
He starts to sob. And ugly cry. And I mean real ugly.
But I get bored.
“Yeah, I’m just toying with you, asshole. No amount of begging is going to save you. I just wanted to make you beg for life a little while.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You got fucking problems, man.”
“Not from where I’m standing. I’m not the one with the knife to my throat, asshole.”
I’ve been doing this a long time and what I’ve learned is that there is this one moment when the mark realizes he’s totally fucked, so he might as well go out with a bang. He’ll challenge your manhood, your toughness, your prowess, or he’ll sink low and defame your mom, or your sister, or your loved one. It’s one last insult for the road. Not all marks do it, but it’s surprising how many do.
This human stain is one of those.
He knows he’s leaving for Hell any minute and figures he might as well end his time on earth with some good old-fashioned torment.
His body relaxes, and a defiant gleam enters his eyes as they lock onto mine. “You know what? Yeah, I remember that night. And I remember her. I remember her real well. That tight little pussy. Her hot little mouth wrapped around my—” His eyes bulge as my knife enters his chest. The wound isn’t enough kill him, not right away, but it’s enough to hurt like a motherfucker.