Page 51 of Beneath Her Skin

“Fucking disgusting,” I hiss, flinging the tongs across the room. Wiping both of my hands on the clean fabric of his pants, I spit one last time in my mother’s direction, narrowly missing her foot. Cutting the loud music abruptly, I shroud them in darkness before whispering hoarsely, “Goodnight.”

4

TIANA

After leaving those two fuckwads to stew in their predicament, I threw up again in the kitchen. Emotionlessly, almost like a robot, I cleaned the kitchen to perfection, brushed my teeth twice, then scrubbed my body in the shower until the water ran cold. My phone had a random video playing that periodically played laughter and faint crying in the basement to keep them company.

I’ve been lying naked in my bed, staring at the ceiling ever since I got out of the shower, wondering why I don’t feel worse about what I did. There’s a sick exhilaration that I get out of toying with them like my own voodoo dolls. My hand snakes between my thighs to find myself still dripping despite the small orgasm I gave myself in the shower, the lingering bloodlust pulsing under my skin. To try for a second one would be useless.

Taking my time in the eerily vacant house, I lay my outfit out before moisturizing my body. My skin glows, a rich, warm bronze, like I’ve been kissed by summer and never let it go. Despite knowing I’ll likely have to do this all over again, the routine fuels my anticipation. This is all a twisted game to me. Zipping my sports bra up, I throw on an all-black shirt withmatching cargo pants and slip into my favorite boots. My hair has a mind of its own, thick spirals spilling over my shoulders, refusing to be tamed. As I pull it back into a loose ponytail, I feel ready for anything. For the finishing touch, I loop my mother’s favorite leather belt through the straps—the one with the heavy, metal belt buckle.

This was just the reset I needed before round two. My boots stomp on the hardwood floor. For once, I don’t have to tiptoe around this house. Seeing the fresh arrangement of fruit on the counter makes my stomach talk to me, so I answer with a green apple that makes my eyes roll back. Grabbing a banana, too, I check the live feed on my laptop. They’re both out cold. I expected as much since it’s almost been two hours since I graced them with my presence.

Stacking two of our biggest pans over each other, then a funnel, some thick kitchen gloves, and the bowl of rotten milk, I carry everything into the basement. The room brightens up with every switch I flick on, but they remain asleep. Banging either end of the pans against each other vigorously, I walk around Elias and Bianca.

“Time to wake up!” I shout. They both startle awake, their breathing picking up as they find what woke them. “We’re not done here. Don’t you remember when you woke me up like this in the mornings,Mami?” I pout, before returning to Elias, banging them louder. “Well, welcome to the family Elias. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Tiana…Stop this,” Elias rasps weakly.

I halt my actions to act pensive, the room falling silent instantly. If hope is all he has left, I’ll dangle it in his face. “Maybe I am taking things too far. Fine…All I want you to do is admit what you’ve done wrong and all will be forgiven. Then, If you’re a good boy, I’ll give you two choices.”

A spark of hope grows in his eyes. “Anything. I’ll do anything for you. I know I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I was wrong for fucking around, I will never cheat on you again. Please, baby.”

For a man with his life on the line, that was the most pathetic excuse for an apology I have ever heard. Cheating was the last straw, but is he seriously convinced he hasn’t done anything else wrong? As if I would ever forgive him based on his meaningless words, much less let him live. Yet, he still disappointed me.

My humorless laugh echoes throughout the room. “Your jaw or your kneecaps,” I say, turning my back to him.

“What?”

“Pick.” I grab my weapon of choice, gliding my fingers alongside the metal’s cool edge. His eyes never leave the hammer when I prowl toward him, circling behind him out of sight.

“I- I don’t know what you’re asking of me,” Elias says with a shaky voice.

Twisting his middle finger to his knuckle until I hear a sickening pop, I shout over his screams. “It will be both if you don’t make a decision.” His finger hangs limply as he writhes in pain, unable to move.

“Ah! T- Th- The…knee,” he whimpers.

Bianca mumbles a rapid prayer in the background, as if anyone could save her now. The one man who has never shown anything but unshakable confidence and intimidation now cowers before me in a blubbering, bloody mess. I love it.

“Bummer,” I say, releasing his hand. Rounding to face him, I commit his features to memory.

This is the Elias I want to remember, not the one who towered over me and hurt me. An image of him forcing me under him invades my thoughts unbidden and it’s all I need to crash down on the first kneecap with all my force. His bone shatters with a painful crunch.

“I fucking hate you,” I choke out.

My voice cracks under the weight of my emotions. I’m supposed to stand strong and tall right now. I can’t let them see me break anymore. The hammer pounds into the same kneecap before going down harder on the other.

“Do you see me now? You willneverhurt me again!” I scream.

I don’t stop there. Bianca’s pleas only spur me on the louder they grow. His ankles, his thighs, his pelvis, all of it gets beaten until my arms give out. Blood spurts in violent arcs, soaking through my shirt and onto my skin. It’s only then that I notice I collapsed to my knees. It’s then that I realize Elias is bleeding out so badly that he’s hardly conscious anymore.

Cracking my neck on either side, I twist almost unnaturally to look at Bianca. “You,” I snarl. She clamps her mouth shut as I take a minute by the table to compose myself. I welcome the silence while I pull gloves on my shaky hands. They’re already stained with fresh blood, but I can’t be too careful with all the fluids flying around.

Bianca’s eyes are blown wide, fresh tears streaming down her face as she shakes her head in denial. She knows why I’m doing this. She must remember all the times she force-fed me rotten milk and food, only to turn around and complain about the eating disorder that I have because of her. Bianca was no mother to me.

“Open your mouth,” I grit through my teeth.

“Listen, you can’t-”

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