Page 120 of Twisted Heathens

“All I’ve ever done is love you,” Vic responds in my ear, breath hot and sticky. “This is all your fault, Brooke. You’re making me do this.”

“It’s over! Just stop! Stop it now!”

“No! It’s not over. You’ll learn your fucking lesson and give me Brooklyn back. Not this screwed up whore that’s taken over recently,” he demands. “Love me back!”

I can’t protest anymore, tears flowing down my cheeks as his jeans rustle, belt clicking open. Every second feels like its own individual death, repeated on an endless, hellish loop. It’s like paralysis has taken over, imprisoning me in this nightmare. I bite my tongue and hold back the sob of pain when he roughly shoves his dick inside me, agony ripping through my insides.

“That’s it, remember who loves you,” Vic goads, fingers digging into my hips.

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

An angry mob of voices fill my head, combining all the different monsters until they blur into a tsunami of murderous rage. I open my teary eyes to watch the shadows leaking down the walls like black tar. Crawling ever closer, promising temptation and sin along the way.

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

Vic grunts his release and pushes me aside. I collapse bonelessly on the floor, curling inwards for protection and hugging my knees. Warmth seeps between my legs, blood mixing with his semen. I’m suddenly overcome with memories of the past and the last man that assaulted me, four long years ago. All while the person I loved most in the world watched.

Hudson. My first love.

He wasn’t an abuser like Vic. That flawed, blue-eyed fool was trapped against the wall by the drug lord’s thug, forced to watch as the tears streamed down his face. What happened broke him as much as it did me. I’ve never loved anyone since, the hurt ran too deep. Opened a chasm in my chest that paved the way for every moment of agony since. It’s all come down to this moment, every sin and secret creating a monster of its own.

Me. I’m the product of evil, and I’m ready to inflict some pain of my own.

Vic goes to the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer. “We’re moving. I don’t care where, any place. Pack up your shit and hand your notice in. That’s a fucking order, Brooklyn.”

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

“No,” I croak, but the word is nothing more than a whisper.

The voices will protect me. They know what’s best, I’ve just got to do as I’m told. Getting my legs beneath me is an impossible task, but I force my broken body to move. Vic spares me a disgusted look and heads to the sofa, putting on football like nothing just happened between us.

Don’t let him get away with it.

Punish him. Bathe in his blood.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, this time a little more forcefully. I reach for the knife block in the kitchen and grab the cleaver. It’s heavy in my hand, but feels terrifyingly good.

“You’re talking nonsense again. Go start packing.”

His eyes are on the TV, completely distracted while he simply orders me around. My entire body trembles and shakes as I walk over, weapon clutched behind my back. Lucifer himself rests on my shoulder and beckons me onwards with his unholy demands.

Go for the neck first.

It’s soft, tender, vulnerable. Then finish the job.

“And shower as well while you’re there, I can’t stand the smell of that diner on you.” Vic snorts, downing the rest of his drink. “Scrub your filthy cunt too, get whatever asshole has been screwing you erased. We’ll never discuss it again.”

I pause directly behind him, close enough to smell the earthy beer. One move and this will all end. Just do as the voices say, I remind myself. The rest will take care of itself. My heart is pounding, chest thumping as sweat runs down my face. The seconds crawl by unintelligibly and I raise the blade, a triumphant smile escaping.

That’s it, good girl.

Give him what he deserves for hurting you.

I slash and stab, screaming like an animal. Vic fights back at first, eyes blown wide with delicious fear, but I have the element of surprise. The wickedly sharp blade parts flesh and he slumps to the ground, beer bottle shattering. Blood gurgles from his mouth, spurting and pouring from exposed arteries in his neck. Vic slowly chokes, clutching at the air for help that will never come.

I smile sweetly. “I’m sorry, babe. I do love you really.”

The blade slips into his torso and pierces his organs as I viciously attack, leaving no part untouched. By the time I’m done and my thirst for revenge is sated, his eyes are empty. Nothing but a butchered carcass remains, soaking my cream carpet with a crimson river.

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