Page 25 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

Getting out of the Range, Thomas nervously questions, “Boss. What are we doing here?”

“Ah, Tommy boy! What a beautiful day to be alive, isn’t it?” I say sarcastically. And I hope to fuck he doesn’t answer.

His eyes widen nervously, a brow arches, and he takes one step backward. I watch him closely then laugh into the sky. Motherfucker thinks I’m going to kill him.

Fuck yes, I still got it.

Walking closer to him, I narrow my eyes, rub my tongue against my sharp, exposed fangs, and then tilt myhead. I stop just as our toes meet, my bat spinning. It’s like I’m ready to hit a home fucking run. I then whisper, “My son. Not you, dumbass.”

With a trembling breath, a sigh of relief washes over my protégé. “This is as good of an idea as your dead body mushroom growing business, boss.” Thomas sarcastically loves to rub that one in my face. No one wanted to eat my mushrooms that I grew off dead bodies at the farm. However, I did. I ate mushrooms for weeks until I couldn’t stand them anymore.

Then Dad fucking insisted on the body farm being removed once summer was in full bloom. Apparently flesh rotting from defrosting was not something he wanted to look at every day while in his office. By the time I finally got around to removing our new pals, Brad’s eyes had begun to melt out of his droopy face. I kept the eyes, and I hide them in Greta’s room when I get bored and wait for her to notice them and freak the fuck out. The worst time was when I glued them to her bathroom mirror, at her eye level. Rain cut me off from the sweet well that is her pussy for three days. I nearly died.

“My son has been a very bad boy for a very long time. And I’ve had about enough of his shit.”

“Wow. I know you two have had your differences, but he’s your blood.”

Now he understands how serious I am.

“Exactly. And he betrayed his blood. It’s time he learns the consequences of his actions.”

Walking past Thomas and up the paved path, I lift my boot-clad foot and kick in the door. “Daddy’s here!” I shout into the townhouse.

I wait for a response, or any commotion, but silence greets me. I nod my head, and Thomas moves in front of me. “If you see him, capture and restrain,” I instruct.

Rushing up the stairs, two at a time, I dent the drywall with my bat the entire way up.

“You can’t hide from me, motherfucker,” I taunt, hoping to coax him out. But it doesn’t seem to work. Pussy.

I check the bedrooms, closets, and bathrooms, then head to the third level. Opening the attic latch, stairs slide down and I crawl up them. Turning on the flashlight on my phone, I examine the hot dry space full of insulation and dust. No Blaise.

Letting out a monstrous roar, I wonder, where is he?

“He isn’t here,” Thomas so obviously points out, shouting from the main level.

Shouting back down, I give further instructions, “Destroy the place. Everything. He fucked with my kid and your next Diablo.” I pause, could someone be hiding him from me?

“If we find out someone is aiding him, burn them down and destroy everything they love. And bring mehimalive. He’s mine!”

“Understood,” Thomas responds between the loud crashing of dishes falling to the floor. I start with the atticstairs, completely tearing them off their hinges, then throwing them through the wall. Next, I storm into his bedroom. His bed is the first thing to catch my eye.

Jumping on top of it, I whip my dick out and piss on it. A large yellow wet spot begins to form, thus destroying his sheets, mattress, and box spring. Once done, I shake off and tuck myself back in. Adding a couple holes in the drywall with my bat, I push his dresser over before heading downstairs to Thomas, who I catch mid-slash to a pillow with his machete.

“Well done, Tommy boy!” He’s never been one to disappoint me, and consistent reassurance, helps keep it that way. He smiles, finishing slashing the pillow before turning to face me with the biggest grin on his face.

“Thank you.”

Confused, I question, “For what?”

“This. Letting out my stresses or frustration on this house. It feels so fucking good.”

Placing my hand on his shoulder, I squeeze it. “Everything I do, I do it for you.”

Thomas’s eyes well with tears and I am now incredibly uncomfortable. Emotions are Rain's department, not mine. Reaching for my phone, I call her immediately and put it on speaker. I hear her pick up, but I'm able to interject before she says anything.

“He’s going to cry.”

Rain laughs. “Thomas. You okay, buddy?”

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