Page 127 of Satan's Spawn
In other words, walking along these streets can quickly result in a tetanus shot if you’re not careful enough.
I kick a stray can at my feet as I follow behind the swaying Tom, who’s currently stumbling into the wall to take a piss.
I look to my right to find a passed out homeless dude covered in tin foil, holding an empty bottle of Bud to his chest like a child does a stuffed animal.
Deciding he’s comatose enough to not be a problem, I keep moving and reach into my pocket, pulling out my ski mask and shoving it onto my face, returning the hood to my head right after.
By the time I reach my target he’s still got his cock out.
“You Timothy McGee?” I bark with a deepened voice, which makes the guy spin around during a flimsy attempt to zip his pants.
“Who the hell’s askin’?” He sways, squinting to get a better look at me.
He can’t because I’m dressed head to toe in black and it’s dark as shit in this alley.
“The motherfucker who heard you got a habit of touching little kids.”
I reach him and waste no time shoving the piece of shit against the wall, my hand tight around his neck as I pull out my knife from my back pocket.
“Heard you like to make ’em beg, too.” I flip the knife open and plunge it into his side…once, twice, three times until there’s blood dripping down my gloves.
The guy cries out, but is too inebriated by the alcohol to fight back. It’s never as fun, but I’ll take what I can get to purge these feelings for Rebecca from my system.
“You son of a…” He chokes as I squeeze his neck tighter, kneeing him in the groin then letting go, leaving him to collapse to his knees holding his side.
I drop to my haunches, close enough to smell his rotten stench and booze.
“Did you think your actions would go unpunished?” I whisper so deadly as he whimpers.
“I didn’t do nothin’ to those kids. I swear.”
He tries for the first time to fight me off, but the asshole couldn’t handle my wrath on a sober day.
So when he swings I rear back, then offer a strong blow to his face, leaving him dazed and falling to the ground.
I straddle him, switching the hand holding my knife. “Photos don’t lie, you piece of pedophile shit.” I tear into his stomach over and over, then lift him up to do it again, this time face to face. His eyes are rolling to the back of his head when I’m done, letting him go to hit the concrete with a low thud.
He’s still and silent but alive, which makes the next part much more fun. I unzip his pants, fishing for his small cock behind his boxers.
“Please…don’t kill me.” Pedo’s voice is faint as he pleads, but he doesn’t know who I am.
He doesn’t know I don’t stop until I make sure they can’t hurt anyone else.
“Did those kids beg for the same thing?” I squeeze his cock tighter and he groans. “Did they cry too? Were they too weak to fight back? I bet you loved having them drugged and at your mercy.”
“I told you I didn’t—”
“That’s enough out of you.” Dropping my knife for a second, I pull the bandana from my hoodie, shoving it into his mouth. Snatching my knife again, I bring it to his dick, wasting no time slicing back and forth, and his muffled cries are between us as blood spurts out in buckets. Then when I’m done, I toss the dead tiny cock into the shadows.
I don’t realize the guy passed out until I remove the bandana from his mouth, stuffing it back into my pocket.
It’s time for the finale, so I lift his shirt up to carve my trademark into his ribs. He reacts, but barely, likely on his way to meet his maker.
The sound of voices in the distance has me wrapping things up faster than I intended, because the last thing I need is to get locked up before the fun times end.
Timmy boy is bleeding out as I climb off him, treading the rest of the way down the alley, ripping off my mask and gloves and shoving them into my jeans pocket just as I turn onto the empty street.
My heart is racing with adrenaline as I reach for my cigarettes, bringing one to my mouth with unsteady hands, nowhere near ready to come down from this invigorating high. It’s been the same story every night for almost a week—and as satisfying as it is to take my anger out on pedofucks like Timothy, Alice, Gordon and Theresa—the dismemberment of male genitals and female pouty lips are still not enough to rid me of my thoughts about Rebecca.
