Page 41 of Sin Like the Devil

“Still wanna laugh at me, bitch?” he shouts.

Rick takes advantage of my momentary surprise and goes for another hit. This one connects with my left cheekbone. My head whips to the side, a delicious sizzle of agony racing through my extremities.

But there’s no satisfaction to give him.

Pain doesn’t shut me down.

It wakes me up like a lightning bolt to the heart, reminding me why I’ve spent years fighting to survive in the first place. To hurt. To feel pain. To be unequivocally alive. I’m living for Holly too, and every ounce of agony I can secure further repays my debt to her ghost.

It’s no less than I deserve. A life of immeasurable pain and suffering. Perhaps then, when I ascend the steep slopes into the devil’s lair, he’ll take pity on me and send me straight back up. Doesn’t seem likely though, does it?

“You walk around this place like you own it, but I see through you,” Rick hisses, his spit flying. “You’re worthless.”

Shaking the dizziness from my head, I glare up at him. “You’re right. I’m nothing.”

“Too right!”

“But you know what?” My feet spread into an even stance. “That also means I have nothing to lose.”

When I lunge, Rick tracks the move and attempts to block the blow. Exactly as I knew he would. I pivot at the last second, my Converse-covered feet sliding on the lawn as I land a low punch to his kidney instead.

The air whooshes out of him, choked off by a second punch to his ribcage. As he attempts to cover himself, I switch stances and hit upwards, clipping him straight in his square jaw.

Pain cracks across my knuckles, but he stumbles backwards, a second from falling flat on his backside. I take a moment to enjoy the show. Watching him flail about is fucking hilarious after all his bravado.

“You asked for this!” he bellows.

I shrug nonchalantly. “Do your worst, hot shot.”

With an angry scream, he barrels towards me. I won’t tackle him like I did Lennox. That would be too easy. I want to enjoy this oh-so sweet victory before I bury this son of a bitch once and for all.

Down we go.

Twisting, punching, we’re a violent tangle of limbs. Rick’s legs find my waist, and as I make impact with the ground, he manoeuvres himself on top to straddle me. His triumphant grin only makes me even more giddy.

I feel a hot slick of blood trailing from my mouth, the ache sharpening my awareness. His eyes latch on to the sticky ribbon. As he inspects his handiwork, I fight the urge to buck him off.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he leers. “Whores like you belong on their backs.”

“I suppose this is the only way you can get a girl to touch you, huh?”

Fingertips sliding over cold grass, I inch my hand down my oversized tee and into my waistband. He’s far too distracted by peacocking his fragile masculinity to pay any attention to my movements.

“Believe me, I’d need a hell of an incentive to touch you.” He looks over my face with exaggerated disgust. “Who could ever want you?”

“Is that supposed to hurt my precious, girly feelings? Fuck off, Rick.”

He grips my biceps, keeping me pinned. “Not until you learn some damn respect!”

As I’m wrapping my fingers around the handle of my switchblade with full intent to stab him in the liver and be done with this already, the weight pressing into me instantly vanishes.

“Argh!” Rick screeches.

He’s tossed aside like little more than a sack of potatoes, tumbling before landing on the ground with a pained curse. In his place, a slim but wiry shadow blots out the winter sun beaming through snow-filled clouds.

The shadow crouches, bringing his midnight-blue, almost black gaze level with mine. His appearance steals the oxygen from my lungs. Such devilishly familiar eyes. A frozen wasteland, bereft of all human emotion and empathy. Nothing but cruelty stares back at me.

I’m sucked into that desolate black hole without warning, despite the years since I first found myself caught in his spider’s web. I couldn’t help it back then; his savagery intrigued me. But now, I know what kind of monster I’m up against.

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