Page 56 of Judas
Now the Lord wants me to take the body apart. I don’t know if that is something I can do. For one, the man is bigger than me and I guess dismembering him would allow me to move him around better. But what if I don’t want to move him? What if I want him to be found beaten, bled dry, and diced into sections just small enough to hand over to the local meat market?
Tossing the knife in the air, I catch it by the handle a few times then look into the metal blade itself, seeing my reflection staring back at me. Shouldn’t I feel some sort of remorse for this? Doesn’t this also fall under a direct sin against God for harming one of his creations? Guess if he is the one issuing the order, then it’s already forgiven before the deed is done. With a shrug, I tiptoe through the blood and begin cutting his clothing away, and aim for the joints.
“Sadie, we don’t have time for a meltdown. The joints will get stiff and it will be harder for you to cut through them. Take my word for it.”
“Fu… fuck… you,” she chokes out, leaning over her knees now in full blown hyperventilation.
I was able to calm her down initially, but when I gave her the serrated knife and began to dig it into the guy's arm, she lost it. Thank heavens she didn’t eat or her damn DNA would be all over the floor right now. She’s been dry heaving ever since—how dramatic.
“I don’t partake in sins of the flesh,” I answer.
“Then what do you call this?!” Sadie shouts, waving her hand and arm toward the dead guy. I’m actually surprised one of her other entities didn’t show up. Maybe they’re just as amused, or bored, as I am.
“A job well done-ish. Now, if you’d stop being theatrical, we can get it cleaned up and you can go back to crying.”
“You said you would accept me, and not judge me.”
“I did, but I meant the voices, not your hysterics. Besides, I’m not judging you. I’m politely waiting for you to get it together. I want to use the island for its intended purpose and I can’t do that with a dead guy laying on it!”
Calm yourself, moron.
“Oh fuck off,” I snap.
“I ought to cut your throat next, since this is what you consider a bonding moment. Telling me to fuck off.”
She’s funny.Kinda. Still waiting for her to grab the knife again, I finally lose my cool. Closing the distance, my hand seizes the back of her neck and I shove her forward until she’s face down in all of the gore. Her nose and mouth buried against the guy's fileted throat. Loving when she struggles, I’ve come to notice that the adrenaline hits me when I overpower her or we fight. Which I like about as much as killing. With a heavier hand, I push her deeper into the guy until she’s choking on the blood—or spluttering, I can’t tell.
Oh well.
When I feel that she’s had enough, I yank her back and press my mouth against her ear.
“You’re about two seconds away from putting me in a very, very bad mood, sweet girl. I suggest you grab that fucking knife and get to sawing or you’ll be here until the body starts bloating. We don’t want that again, do we?”
“I ha… hate… you,” she gasps.
“No you don’t. Either way, how the hell are you going to be like me if you can’t do the things I do?”
“I don’t want to be like you!”
“Too late.”
Chapter twenty-one
Beast
Ipuked—well, dry heaved as darling Uncle Lucien likes to point out—several times before the body ever came apart. At one point, I hit a pocket of something around the hip area and fluid sprayed in my face. I blacked out—as embarrassing as it sounds. The entire time was torture. Lucien barked orders and told me I was doing things wrong, but when I would offer for him to finish it up, he refused. Telling me it was some right of passage type shit.
Fucking psycho.
Speaking of, where are the voices when I need them? Kate usually takes over during high stress and she’s nowhere to be found. There was a point I internally screamed for her, hoping to annoy her just enough where she’d do the damned thing and come finish quartering this poor guy. Lucien said he and the other one, who he drained like some sort of Dexter reject, came into the cabin when I wasn’t myself. I remember seeing themwhen we were on our way back from the lake but not much after that—not until he gave me a bath in his essence.
Now, I’m standing off to the side as he throws the pieces off the back deck into a hole he dug while I was too busy trying to figure out how to break a joint enough to cut it with a kitchen knife. I am soaked in more blood than I ever imagined I would be, some other fluids, and the dirt from our run through the woods earlier. There’s no doubt about it: I definitely should have kept running instead of coming back. But the survival side of me knew that the nightly drop in temperature would eventually kill me—and slowly. The idea of dying that way sounded painful and I’ve endured enough as it is. If I were to die, I want it to be quick.
It’s dark now, giving Lucien the coverage he needs to bury the bodies. The scent of cold earth is mixing with the metallic aroma of crimson; boy does it make my stomach churn. He ordered me to watch him, and I do, because there’s no way I want him to do the same thing to me. Not when he’s beaten me into unconsciousness before. Well, maybe if he does, Kate will come back and she will fight him again. No, that’s not necessary. My body always aches afterwards and I’m not sure what he would do to me at this point.
A loud clattering from the shovel Lucien is using makes me jump, the metal and wood loud against the floor of the deck. Looking up, away from the filled in hole in the ground, I see him stalking towards me and every hair stands on end. The man is terrifying. Though I crave acceptance and being seen as Sadie, not the others, I know his sort of love comes with a price I don’t think I’m willing to pay. He grabs the front of his shirt and yanks it up so he can use the tail of it as a rag and wipe his face, exposing his torso to me. The skin there, covered in more tattoos and scars. He’s just one big one at this point.
“Let’s go, you’re taking a bath. I can smell you over the dead.”
