Page 82 of Black Hearts
But I think I had to. At least some of it.
Theo had his hands shoved in his pockets as he stood before my father. They stared at each other in silence for a bit. He took off his glasses and started to clean them on the bottom hem of his shirt, not saying a word. My father, on the other hand, sneered out, “Who are you supposed to be?”
Theo didn’t answer right away. He took his time in cleaning his glasses, and then he put them back on. “I am the family doctor. I’m mainly here for prescribing medication and looking over any physical injuries they might acquire while doing what they do, but lately I’ve found myself as a therapist, too.”
My father frowned, unimpressed.
“Now, let me warn you, Fred: no one here is going to save you. You’re going to die in here, and I can’t say I care one bit. In fact, I hope you experience a world of pain before you go—and I know you will, because each of them—” He pointed at us through the window. “—are going to come in here and hurt you, but they’re going to leave you alive for Markus. You know all about him, don’t you? Oh, what am I saying? Of course, you do.”
At his side, Theo stretched out his fingers, slow to curl them into a fist. “I used to pride myself as someone who never inflicted pain. I healed it. I helped. I stayed out of this messy business, but you—after hearing everything you did to Juliet, I think I understand the Scotts and what they do a lot better. Maybe that makes me just as terrible as they are, but I don’t care. There are people who deserve to die a painful death in this world, and you’re one of them. I’m going to take pleasure in watching you die, Fred, but first, it’s my turn.”
Theo didn’t hesitate. He brought his hand up, his fingers curled into a tight fist, and then he launched it right at my father’s face, at his nose. He must’ve known exactly where to punch him to dislocate his nose, because the blood was almost instant. He pulled his hand away, and a river of red began to ooze from my father’s nose.
“You’re lucky you’re only getting one from each of us,” Theo muttered, and then he walked out, rejoining us in the hall.
“Well, who wants to follow that?” Will deadpanned. “I can’t do a speech like that.”
Bennet huffed, “Me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his switchblade as he went inside the room. Theo moved to stand behind me, and together, we watched.
My father ran his tongue over his upper lip, catching some of the blood. He smiled at Bennet, but I could tell his confidence waned. Whether he knew what was coming or if Theo’s little speech had gotten to him, I couldn’t say, but he’d be stupid to think he was getting out of here.
Bennet handled the switchblade like he was born holding it, like it was an extension of his hand. At least the situation at hand made me temporarily forget about what else that switchblade had been used for.
I do hope he, uh, washed it off though.
He didn’t have a big speech planned, didn’t pace the room and lecture my father on what he’d done. Bennet became a blur, launching himself at my father, sticking him right in the gut with the sharp end. “This,” he hissed out, “is for Juliet, so you know exactly what she felt when you abandoned her to die, you fucking asshole.” And then he twisted the knife in his gut a bit.
My father couldn’t stop himself from crying out, and it was only after he verbally showed his pain that Bennet yanked out the switchblade and exited the room. I didn’t look at Bennet as he emerged into the hall, still staring at my father, at the blossoming wound on his stomach. He really did stab him right where I’d gotten stabbed, only the knife Bennet had used was a heck of a lot smaller than the one my father had used on me.
Bennet didn’t seem to care that my father’s blood was still on the knife; he closed it and put it back in his pocket as Jaxon went inside to have his turn.
It was like a revolving door, except before you came back out, you got to inflict some pain on the man inside. The old me would’ve been horrified, but here I stood, watching, unable to look away. A part of me needed to see him die, as wrong as it was.
Jaxon strolled over to the counter on the side, eyeing up all of the metal instruments. He picked up a small thing, a scalpel, I think it was, and slowly returned to my father, who watched him with hatred in his eyes all the while.
“I ain’t scared of any of you,” my father spat out. “You’re nothing to me. Nothing. You might have my daughter under your spell, but you won’t get me.” He said all this as his nose continued to bleed, as the wound in his abdomen stained his shirt more and more.
Jaxon asked, his voice a deadly timbre I didn’t think I’d ever heard before: “Are you sure about that?” Though his back was to us, I could swear I heard the smile in his voice. I’d never seen Jaxon down here before, but I knew he had to enjoy it, at least a little. He hid his darkness better than the others.
Jaxon reached for the neck strap, wrapping it around my father’s throat tightly, buckling him in while ignoring the death glare my father gave him. I didn’t know what he planned on doing, but it had to be something with his head, something he didn’t want my father to squirm too much during.
“I’d tell you to say goodbye to that smile of yours, but it’s not that good of a smile to begin with, so…” Jaxon shrugged, his sarcasm not quite overshadowing whatever he planned on doing, and it only got my father to bare his teeth at him.
“Do your worst, pretty boy,” my father hissed out.
And so he did. Jaxon took the sharp edge of the scalpel to the right side of my father’s mouth. My father didn’t have to open his mouth, for the steel poked right through his lips. Jaxon said not another word as he got to work, dragging that scalpel through the corner of my father’s mouth, bit by bit through his cheek until the entire thing was separated and bloody.
My father cried out, tried to move, but that neck strap made it next to impossible. When Jaxon pulled the scalpel away, the bottom bit of his cheek hung down, exposing the bottom row of his teeth and his bloody gums.
Jaxon dropped the scalpel, satisfied with his work, and he returned to us in the hall. I had to tear my gaze off my father—it was getting a little gory for me—and look at him. He seemed unbothered by what he’d done to my father, and I knew if Markus would let him, he’d do more.
Markus barked out, “Will, you’re up. Unless you don’t want to take a piece of him for yourself, in which case—”
“No, no,” Will interrupted, practically skipping to the door. “I’m taking my turn, damn it.” He flung himself in the room, grinning ear to ear as he met my father’s stare. “Hey, there. I’m another one of the dudes sticking it in your daughter. Can I just say, I can’t believe someone like her came from someone like you. It just doesn’t make sense.”
My father could only scoff. It was clear he was losing energy… and a lot of blood.
Will picked up something that looked more like a tool than a cutting instrument, and he moved to stand before my father, blocking our view—which was probably for the best. “To build off my new best friend’s work—” He tossed a glimpse at us, at Jaxon. “—I’m going to give you an even better smile.” And then he took the tool he’d grabbed and brought it to my father’s mouth.
