Page 80 of Pretty Little Fears

Ashe pulls out his phone, he replies, “No, not yet.”

Closingmy eyes,Itake a deep breath.UntilIfindOscar,Iwon’t findBlair.Thethought sends a new wave of rage through me.Myeyes shoot back open and lock ontoMr.Ortizsitting across from whereIstand.Ican feelRoy’seyes burning a hole into the side of my head to the left of me, butIrefuse to look his way.He’llget what’s coming to him, butIneed to make him sweat.Mr.Ortizwhimpers and bargains for his life, spewing apologies at me, butIdon’t want to hear it.He'smany years too late.Notto mention,Grimmbelieves he’s referring toBlairandI’dlike to keep it that way.

“I’mso sorry.Whatwe did was wrong,Mr.Blackwood.Please, don’t do this,”Mr.Ortizbegins to beg, “Whatwould your father think?”

Istalk over to his side of the table and pistol-whip him over the head. “Jameswas not my father, not to mention he’s fucking dead,”Ilaugh.

Iwatch as he looks up in horror, his eyes widen and scan my blood-coated face and teeth.I'mquickly slicing his neck open, the cut going from ear to ear.Hegurgles on his own blood while it bubbles and pools out from his neck.Liftingmy eyes from his open gash,Ifinally look over toRoy.Whenmy eyes meet his, the feelings of disgust and pain run throughout my body.

It'sas if thousands of miniature shards of glass are being impaled deep into my skin.Thosepieces that were recently reconnected whenI’dendedMr.Silva’slife now come crumbling apart once again.Ifeel bile rise up my throat as the memories of the horrendous acts he committed toward me appear in front of my eyes.Swallowingthe bile back down,Ifocus on dragging out his death and getting some fucking relief.

Helaughs while looking at me.Hiseyes flick to my lips as he licks his own, building my rage. “Didyou miss me,Emmett?Isthat why you’re going through all this trouble?Youknow, you could have just called me.Iwould’ve come.”Hesays letting out a small chuckle with his innuendo, attempting to hide the fear in his voice, but it's there.

Thevoice in my head booms and shouts, he needs to die.

KILL.

Ilook down at the dead body in front of me and without hesitation,I'munzipping his pants and pulling out his limp appendage.Grimmremains silent behind me asIcut out a piece of fabric from his pants and grab the disgusting flesh.There’sno wayI’mtouching that shit ever again.

Istart to cut through it, the skin and muscles easily tear under my blade.Onceremoved,Itoss the bloodied meat onto the table and repeat the action with the other piece of shit. “That’sfucking brutal, but brilliant.”Grimmchuckles, covering his own junk like it's in danger.

Lookingback atRoy,Ipick up the severed meat and head his way. “Whatare you doing?” he asks, confusion and fear lacing his voice.Makingeye contact withGrimm,Inod towardsMr.Loganand he automatically knows whatI’masking for.Hesteps behindRoyand grabs his arms, wrapping them around the back of the chair.Royscreams out in pain, butGrimmkeeps him in place.

“Becauseyou like limp dicks so much,Ithought it’d be fitting if that's how you die.”Isnarl.Heopens his mouth to protest, giving me the opportunity to shove the dicks down his throat.Islap my hand over his mouth while he chokes and tries to spit the appendages out.

“What’sthe matter?Youonly like dicks in your mouth when they’re attached to little boys, you sick fuck?!”Iyell.

Withmy knife still in hand,Iram it forward, stabbing him directly in the heart.Irepeatedly stab him.Bloodcovers my body, and fills my senses.

Crimsonis slowly becoming my favorite color.

Withevery single insertion of the knife into his skin,Ifeel another piece of my long-lasting pain fade away.Iknow it won't erase what has been done, the damage can never be reversed, but damn does it feel fucking good.

Despitethe fact that he’s already dead,Idon’t let up.Islice his skin open long after he choked on the severed dicks lodged in his throat.Myarm burns with the exertion of my efforts.Amanic laugh bubbles in my throat and slips out.Idon't know how longI'vebeen at it untilGrimmis grabbing my arm and pulling me back.

“AlrightEmmett, he’s dead.Comeon, let’s go.”Hesays, leading me to the exit.

Ipull back and assess the damageI'veinflicted.Theirblood drips to the floor and blends into the crimson-colored carpet.Thewarm liquid coats my hands and face, my splattered shirt beautifully decorated.

Sincethis is aVIPsection for those who have wealth and power, there is no shock from the workers as they come in and begin to dispose of the bodies.It’sa frequent occurrence in this business, in this world.Onethey don’t question, as long as it’s accompanied by dollar bills.

Igrab a nearby towel on our way out and wipe my hands and face.Idon't bother trying to clean off my shirt or under my nails.Ineed a fucking shower butIneed my obsession more.Tossingthe towel aside,Igather up my belongings, shoot a look over toGrimm, and storm out the door.

Myfury swims through my body as the days drag on.Iwould’ve savedBlairbefore killing all these fucks ifIknew where she was.Jamesgave me the names of everyone involved yet the one fucker that’s the most imperative to find, has been the hardest to track down.Thehandler that moved her to the prick that bought her has been off the grid and impossible to locate.He’sthe only person who knows where she is.Buthe can only hide from me for so long.Likea shark following the scent of blood,Iwill find him and make him beg for death.

Weexit the casino doors and head over towards our bikes again.Startingthem up, we make our way to the address that was given to us byEliforHaroldClark.

I'vebeen thinking about this for days.OnemomentIfound outBlairwas pregnant, and the next,Ifound out that my baby had been killed.Iwould never get to meet them, hold them, love them.I'dnever get to give them the lifeIwasn’t privy to.Nowords were able to be strung together to express the depth of my fury when the realization struck.

Thedeath coating my hands will seem like child's play compared to whatIhave in store forHaroldClark.Thename alone causes vomit to rise in my throat and wrath to squeeze at my heart.I’vehad some time to construct the perfect method of torture.Notonly did he hurtBlair, he killed my child.Hemessed with the most important people in my life.

Whenwe arrive at the house, we make quick work of breaking in and making our way through his home to find him.Wekeep our steps light to not alert him of the intrusion.Comingtowards a room with the door slightly ajar,Ihear the faint sounds of conversation coming from beyond the barrier.Onlyhearing one voice,Iassume he’s on the phone.Apleasant distraction.

Hestands at the window, facing away from the doorway.Grimmsignals for me to stand guard while he slips inside the room.Throughthe crack,Isee him tiptoe towardHaroldand once he hangs up the phone,Grimmis on him.Hewraps his left arm aroundHarold’sfront and his right comes up, wrapping aroundHarold’sthroat.

“Don’tfight orIwill snap your neck.”Grimmthreatens.He’sbluffing because he knows thatI’llbe the one to endHarold'slife.Withina few seconds,Haroldis unconscious andGrimmdrops him to the floor with a thud.Iwalk into the room, throwingGrimma compliment for his job well done, and grab his ankles.Grimmwraps his arms underneathHarold’sarmpits, making it easier to distribute his weight and carry him out of the room and to the kitchen.

WeliftClarkonto his kitchen table, placing him on his stomach.Takinghis hands, we tie them together using ropes then secure his bound hands to a nearby table leg.Repeatingthe same process with his feet,Ijerk on the limbs, making sure he’s unable to move.Hewon’t be granted the slightest inch of freedom.

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