Page 60 of Riot's Thorn
“Did you get the report?” I ask, putting a rubber apron on so I don’t mess up my clothes.
“Yep. Right here.” She holds up a piece of paper.
After snapping on a pair of gloves, I take the report and begin to read. “Chaplain’s fingernails were broken and some even popped off. You were dragging her somewhere, and she was trying to stop you, right?”
“That dumb bitch isn’t worth your protection.” Bloody spittle sprays from the man’s mouth as he speaks. “But if she means something to you, I’ll back off. I live in New York, so I’ll just hop on a plane, and you’ll never hear from me again.”
I nod, reading the next item on the report. “She had vaginal and anal tearing, along with internal injuries from a round brush with rigid boar bristles being forced into her. The brush had to be removed when she reached the hospital.”
My lack of emotion as I read the police report isn’t necessarily a reflection of how I feel, but it’s easier for me to separate facts from the person. Killer, however, has so much rage radiating off her, I could choke on it. She’s on the verge of losing her shit, but that’ll put an end to this way too soon. Evenif I’m not showing it like her, I’m disgusted by this piece of shit and want to make sure he gets the end he deserves.
“Go take a walk,” I say.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? No, I’m not going anywhere.” She flips open her butterfly knife and proceeds to spin it in an intricate way that looks badass. I’ll have to look that up later.
“If you go anywhere near him right now, you’ll kill him in seconds. Is that what you want?”
“No,” she admits while the man sobs.
“Then take a walk and calm down.”
“Fine.” She disappears up the stairs.
“Where were we?” I flip to the next page of the report. “Broken ribs that punctured a lung, a ruptured spleen, a bruised liver, and ten of the fourteen facial bones broken. Dang, dude. You didn’t hold back.”
“She was pregnant and left me. I didn’t want my kid being raised by some asshole she picked up off the street.”
“Right, because you’d be a better father.”
“I would be.” He scoffs. “Too late for that shit. She had an abortion. She killed my fuckin’ kid, man. What would you do?”
I tsk. “Her body, her choice.”
“That’s bullshit. She’s a murderer and should be in prison right now.”
“Okay, that makes more sense. Tell me, are you a podcast bro?”
“Man, I don’t know what that means. Yeah, I have a podcast, but it’s only one of my sources of income. Why, you need money? I have a shit ton saved up. Just get me out of here and?—”
I take Killer’s butterfly knife off the counter and open it with a basic flip that feels stupid now that I’ve seen Killer’s trick. I stab it into his thigh, leaving it there. “I think we both know you won’t be leaving.”
It takes him a second to register what I did and said, but when he does, he screams like a baby, cursing and blubbering while yanking at the binds on his wrists. “You fucking stabbed me!”
“If that freaks you out, just wait.” I take a pair of pliers and grip the end of his thumbnail. It would’ve been easier to pull a pinkie nail out, but thumbs seem to get a bigger reaction. It takes some maneuvering, but eventually, I separate it from the nail bed and tug. His screams are otherworldly now and beginning to agitate me. I need my headphones, which I find in the cupboard. Once they’re on, the noise cancellation does its thing, and the sound is instantly muffled.
“You fucking asshole. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill every single last one of you.”
Too bad I can still make out his words.
I get to work on his other nails, and minutes later, all ten are in a pile on a tray. Naked fingers look so strange. They’re like eyebrows; you just look odd without them.
“Okay, so that makes up for her broken nails. What was next?” I walk over to the drugstore bag on the counter, knowing what I’ll find. “Killer is more violent than retaliatory, so I don’t think she’ll mind if I do this part.”
His mouth moves, but I can’t hear, and honestly, I don’t care what he has to say.
When I turn around and he sees what’s in my hand, his eyes go so wide, I fear they’ll pop out. He rocks the chair backward as if he stands a chance at getting away. There are some things in life you can’t avoid, and I’ll never understand why people don’t just accept their fate. He and I both know this brush is going up his ass. There’s no way around it.
After setting the brush on a tray Killer has set out with her favorite knives, I spot exactly what I need. Sometimes, it’s easier to drug a captive if we need to transport or, in this case, gethim into position. The club is lucky enough to have a doctor for a member, and though he keeps up his license, he really only practices when we need to be patched up. Instead, he spends his days growing marijuana and selling it at the club’s dispensary, aptly named Dope. But given Killer’s mission in life, he stepped in to teach us about a few drugs that’ll make our lives easier, like this one.
