Page 12 of Fiend
“I’m definitely going to throw up later.”
A laugh bursts from my lips before I can hold it back. “Nah, you’re going to throw up after you smell his burning flesh.” Leo’s response is muffled by the ridiculous scream tearing through Trey’s throat. His eyes bulge comically, and he tries twisting in the chair, flailing his body—or at least making an attempt to.
The rope keeps him secured, so instead, the metal feet of the chair scrape against the linoleum as he tries to throw himself out of it. Leo stands and steps back just as it teeters to the side and crashes to the floor. Trey grunts as he hits the floor, and the side of his face smacks against a stack of moldy magazines placed haphazardly.
The T-shirt in his mouth falls out, and the volume of his wailing increases tenfold. “Please, please, please! I don’t know why you’re here!Let me go! I didn’t do anything!”
“Ugh,” Leo groans, giving me a look that says “really.” I chuckle.
“Trey, Trey, Trey.” I reach down and grab the left side of the chair, pulling it back in place. His body jerks to the side as the chair is placed back on all fours. “Tell me. What have you done recently? Something that was probably pretty fucking stupid of you, butreallylucky for us?” I quirk a brow at him as he absorbs my words.
“Wha-what? What are you talking about?” He shakes his head back and forth so fast, I’m sure he’s giving himself whiplash.
“It’s okay, I’ll give you a second. Just take those two brain cells of yours and rub them togetherrealgood, and I’m sure you can come up with something.”
He stutters, his mouth gaping like a fish, giving me a flash of his yellow tongue and equally yellow teeth. I can’t resist cocking my fist back and planting it right into his fucking mouth a few times. The crack of his jaw resounds through the room, along with his scream. Leo is right there, stuffing the shirt back in his mouth to muffle it, and I smile.
“We’re a great team.”
“Shut up, Vincent.”
“You love me.” I face Trey again and watch the blood drip from the corner of his mouth. I curl my hands into fists and physically hold myself back from killing him right fucking now. “Figured it out yet?” I tap my foot impatiently. Every fucking time, I plan to draw it out, to make them all fuckingsufferfor what they did; Essa’s parents and now him, but as I’m standing here, finally able to do it, all I can see, all I can fuckingfeelis the rage. The hunger to watch them die.
Because he can’t answer audibly, he shakes his head back and forth a dozen times. My lips curls. I grip the handle of the knife still in his leg and yank it up. Trey throws his head back in a grunt of pain as blood pulses from the wound. I slam it down again, in a new spot before pulling it up and doing it again. And again. And a-fucking-gain.
I’m in a trance as I mutilate his legs, switching back and forth between them. When I finally pull away, my chest is heaving, sweat pouring down my face and stinging my eyes. I step back, taking in the sight before me. Blood, gaping, shredded wounds, and a seemingly lifeless body.
Goddamn. I’m a fucking fiend for this shit.
“What—”
“He passed out about two minutes ago,” Leo adds conversationally, and I snap my gaze to him. He’s standing a few feet off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest as he observes me with an intense gaze. “You good?”
“Mhm. Great.”
“Good. Wake him up.”
“You don’t want to?” I ask. “Don’t want to get out any of that pent-up anger that I know you’re shoving down?”
“No, Vin. This is all you.”
I nod, accepting his answer for what it is. He knows I need this. “Get me a bucket, or fucking something, with cold water?” Leo nods and goes searching for it while I stand in front of this piece of shit, glaring at him while I wait. My eyes trace the blood dripping down his mangled jaw. The way his face is swollen almost past recognition. I take in his legs, the way I know he’s bleeding out.
Time is quickly running out, and while I should be mad that I lost control, I can’t be. The monster inside me is fuckingpurring,and it feels so fucking good. I feel like I can finally breathe again. Well, I would if I could actually smell something other than the pungent odor of this man and his pathetic excuse of a life.
Leo comes into the room and drops a five-gallon bucket at my feet. Water sloshes over the side, narrowly missing my feet. There’s no handle, so I lean down and grip the sides. I glare over at Trey, an idea coming to me. “Actually, I have a better idea. Leo, could you grab this?” I glance over at him, and he steps up, taking the bucket from me. “Set it on his legs and hold it there.”
He does it without a word and when the heavy weight of the bucket presses against Trey’s wounds, he lets out a whimper, stirring. “Ready?” I ask Leo, and he nods, tightening his hold. I’m sure he can easily guess what I’m about to do.
I grab the back of Trey’s neck and push his head down. His arms strain against the rope as I force his upper half down until his face reaches the water. The opening of the bucket isn’t large enough to allow his entire head to fit under, his neck stopping against the rim, but it’s enough for his face to be submerged.
I shove his face under the surface of the water. His body instantly jerks, and his shoulders rise as he sucks in a breath, but instead of getting the air he desperately needs, he breathes water into his lungs. His head wrenches to the side as he fights against my grip. Water splashes in every direction, soaking my shirt and pants.
With a grip on the back of his greasy hair, I yank his head out of the water. He heaves, gasping for air, making high-pitched whining sounds. My lip curls in disgust as I shove his head back down. He fights me harder this time, and as I hold him, the muscles in his neck bunch and strain under my palm as he resists with everything in him.
It’s not much.
“Cry baby bitch,” I scoff.
