Page 74 of Graves

The sticky blackness of my trauma begins seeping inside me, the safely guarded box it was trapped in has been busted open, and there is nowhere for it to go but everywhere. I’ve been trying to prevent this feeling for years, something I thought I had overcome once and for all. Oh, how wrong I was. Zayden’s right, though. I need this to heal, to move on, and maybe to cause a little hurt in my wake.

I try to straighten out his fingers, but he curls them into a ball, squeezing and fighting against the restraints Zayden put in place. I try to peel them away from his fist, but he’s too strong. I huff in frustration before I see Zayden raise his hand like an eager child in class.

I furrow my brows at him and nod.

“Can I help you, angel?”

“That would be great, why did you raise your hand, though?” I ask as he walks around Jim.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your fun.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. God, he’s fucked up, isn’t he? Like really fucked up. Why am I liking him more and more by the minute, though?

Zayden grips Jim’s left wrist tightly with one hand, forcing his fingers out with the other. I give him a grateful smile, and he winks at me. A wink that, for some fucked-up reason, sends my stomach flipping. This shouldn’t be a cute moment. I shouldn’t be getting all flirty and giddy as my stalker helps me torture my abuser. Apparently Zayden and I are just built differently, though, because it most certainly is.

I slide Jim’s first finger through the cutter, wasting no time before I apply pressure and the digit slices clean off. He screams an agonizing sound of pain as I work one by one through each finger. The ring finger bled more than the others, which I thought was ironic seeing as his wedding band was still attached to it. His wife knew, she always knew, she just pretended not to, and so I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for making her a widow by the end of the day.

Once we finish with the other hand, he’s sobbing and moaning as blood is pouring out of his hands and creating two round puddles beneath them. The concrete floor has a type of epoxy coating that seems like it will be easy to clean up when we are done with him, so that’s convenient.

“What next?” I ask Zayden.

He sweeps his hands out and smiles.

“This is your rodeo, sweetheart. I’m just enjoying the view.”

I smirk at that, walking over to Zayden’s tools of torture before grabbing one of the knives and bending down in front ofJim once more.

“The Achilles hurts really bad, right?” I ask Zayden.

He makes a sour face and nods.

“Like nothing you’ve ever felt.”

“Perfect,” I say before taking the knife and slicing horizontally across both his Achilles tendons. Blood shoots out of the back of his ankles as he bucks and jerks against his bindings, forcing him to the floor once more.

Slit by slit, I tear him apart. Zayden even steps in for a bit and pulls out each of his teeth with the pliers. He says it makes disposal that much more seamless, and hey, he’s the expert. We also figure why not cut off his toes, it’s not like he’ll need them where he’s going.

Zayden grabbed some rusty barbed wire from a cabinet and coiled it around Jim’s shoulders, pulling it tighter and tighter until he had no choice but to stay as still as possible or risk bleeding out faster.

Jim’s eyes are surprisingly wide and panicked for the state he’s in. I would have thought he’d pass out from blood loss by now, but I guess it pays to be a fat piece of shit. They’re fixed on me currently and are practically begging me to let him go, to stop all of this. Zayden doesn’t seem to like that much.

A low growl emanates from his chest as he grabs a knife and plunges it into his right eye without hesitation, twisting and pulling it clean out, still staked on the knife as he tosses it to the ground and grabs another.

“You will never set eyes on her again!” Zayden snarls before giving the other eye the same treatment.

Jim’s screams are bloodcurdling as he struggles against the barbed wire, his once-white wife beater is now almost completely crimson. My hands are stained with his blood, as are Zayden’s, with blood splattered across his chest from the eyes, but I’ve never been so completely unbothered in my life.

“Take the tape off,” I tell Zayden, who does as I say without a second of hesitation.

Jim begins babbling profusely, his head whipping in either direction, as he tries to make sense of where we are due to his newly blinded state. Blood is still pouring from his empty eye sockets, and it’s truly a grotesque sight as he begs, “Please! Please! Blake, don’t kill me. Please. I loved you so much. I still do. I think about you all the time. I’m sorry. I love you!” he wails, his words coming out distorted due to the lack of teeth.

Zayden sends a punch to his gut that sends him wheezing as I grab the scalpel.

“Tongue,” I command shortly.

Zayden delivers another punch to Jim’s jaw, and with the sickening crunch that sounds next, I know for sure it’s broken. I suppose that was the intent because, in the next moment, Zayden easily pushes the rest of his jaw open, allowing his hand inside his mouth before his fingers grip his blood-soaked tongue.

I don’t waste any time slicing through the thick muscle as I speak.

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