Page 134 of The First Cut
I hang up. Instead of heading back to the main room, I head out to the pit. I might need to deal with shit here, but that doesn’t mean I have to drag this out any longer. Yeah, I might enjoy it, but the need to be with Lola's far more intense.
I walk in and take him in, hanging from the chains, looking a complete mess. At some point, he must have pissed himself because the room stinks. I’m glad there are drains in the floorso we can hose it down afterward. He shivers in the cool air, a pitiful groan spilling from his chapped lips.
Walking over to the tool table, I grab a machete, a hunting knife, and a couple of small hand towels. I carry my loot over to Driller and lay them on the floor beside me.
I know he can’t hear me, but I talk to the piece of shit anyway. “I wanted to take my time with you, Driller. I’ve dreamed of all the ways I’d make you pay. Do you know what I realized? None of it matters. You don’t matter. And once you’re gone, you’ll be nothing but a shitty memory in an otherwise perfect life for Lola.”
I grab the machete with one hand and his shriveled dick with the other, and swing the blade through the base of his cock, severing it clean from his body. He makes an animalistic noise that I ignore in favor of wrapping his dick in one of the towels.
Using the hunting knife, I begin the task of cutting his lying fucking heart from his chest. I tear a chunk of it apart with my teeth and shove it into his mouth, forcing my fingers down his throat as he does the first good thing with his life. He dies.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and wrap the heart with the other towel. I shove them both into a plastic bag from the med kit. I survey the room, wondering if it might be easier to get rid of him if I chop him up. The door opens and the others start to file back in. They pause when they see me, the blood smeared all over my mouth and clothes, before they turn to what’s left of Driller.
“It’s done,” I tell them unnecessarily.
“I think it’s safe to say nobody will ever look at Lola wrong. Not after this,” Byte offers uneasily, likely wondering if the rumors are true about my cannibalistic tendencies.
“Good. I took it easy on him so I can get back to my girl. The next asshole won’t be so lucky.”
Chapter Forty
Lola
Iwake up feeling groggy but not anywhere near as disorientated as I have been.
I move my arm to ease myself up and collide with a body lying beside me. My eyes are still swollen, but I can see a little more than before. Even if I were blind, I’d know that body anywhere.
Hannibal’s eyes open, and the second they collide with mine, he relaxes. “Hey, doll.”
I lift my hand and run my fingers through his hair. “What are you doing back here already?”
“I missed you.”
There's something about a man who just lays it out like that, not giving a single fuck about playing it cool. I think after everything I’ve been through, his ability to just be honest is the best gift he could have given me.
“I love you. I’m a mess in more ways than one, and I’ve been broken so many times I’m not sure I’d recognize the old me anymore. But you, you make me feel whole. You make me feel like I’m enough, like I’m a gift you can’t believe is yours. I’m notthe kind of girl that believes in fairy tales, not after falling for a prince charming who always fell short.”
He tugs me toward him and kisses me, his tongue sliding between my lips to play with mine before he pulls back.
“Princes need princesses. You’re a fucking queen. It was never you that wasn’t enough, Lola. It was them. They were never worthy of you. I know this because I’d crawl over broken glass just to sit beside you.”
A tear slips down my cheek as he delivers that line like a vow, his eyes locked on mine, showing nothing but honesty.
“And just in case there was ever any doubt, I fucking love you too.”
I chuckle and bury my head against his shoulder. We lay there together in the quiet for a little while, finding peace for a moment while the world carries on without us.
Eventually, I start to fidget, feeling uncomfortable. I need more painkillers, but I’m loathe to let anyone intrude on our moment.
Of course, the man misses nothing. He leans over me and slides my hair back from my face. “You hurting?”
“A little.” I squirm, feeling something pressing against my leg. I slide my hand between us and feel him up. When I realize his front pocket feels a little full, I grin. “Is that your dick or?—”
His eyes flash, and his expression changes, making me close my mouth. He doesn’t look excited at the prospect of me groping him.
I still my hand, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “What is it?”
“Well, you’re right— a dick in my pocket. It’s just not mine.”
