Page 43 of The Sins That Bleed
He goes on and on, his voice going hoarse before he gives up, his entire body deflating of hope. Karma is a glorious motherfucker, and it’s a privilege for her to choose me to channel her power through, to be her vessel to mete out punishment.
“Who—”
I cut him off. “Who are you? What do you want? Why are you doing this? Blah blah blah, you bastards are all the same. Letme save you some breath since you’re going to need the last of yours. Nothing you say or do will get you out of this position. You will pay for every sin you’ve committed in your short life by my hands. Ivowit.”
I hold them up to show him, my nails long and the tips sharp enough to cause damage.
He fights against his restraints but really, he’s fighting my words. The finality of his last moments of life and my promise ringing true, causing him to reject the notion. The rattling of the chains fills the space around us and I close my eyes to soak it in as I wait for him to quiet down.
“You should know, démon, I normally offer those of you who find yourself in this situation the chance to play a game, but tonight I’m in no mood and I’ve waited long enough.”
I drop from the bench, my combat boots hitting the ground with a thud. I stalk toward him and wait for his dread to ratchet up, enjoying the power I have over him. It starts as an ember before igniting into an inferno; the decaying scent of his terror making me wrinkle my nose.
This démon is rotten to the core.
The thought of touching him is enough to make me want to scrub myself clean, but that must wait. I close in on his pudgy body and reach out, gripping his shirt. He tries and fails to get as far away from me as possible, resorting to screwing his eyes shut and pretending this isn’t happening.
“Uh, uh, uh! Don’t close your eyes démon, the show is about to begin!”
His eyes fly open. Big mistake.
His scream ricochets around me, masking the squelch as I jab one long, wickedly sharp fingernail into his eye. I pluck the orb from its socket. He wails in pain and I hold the gloopy ball up, still impaled on my red nail as blood and slop spill down it, the optic nerve still flopping like a wet fish out of water.
I giggle to myself as I admire it. “Such a shame that you didn’t get to see that!”
He sobs, the open socket where his eye should be now running red. I imagine it as him crying before fate herself, begging for forgiveness for all the wicked things he’s done in his life. It will never make up for the vile sins he’s committed.
I flick his eyeball off my nail and don’t bother watching as it rolls away on the dirty concrete floor.
“And now you’ve ruined my manicure, you’ll pay for that.” I sneer.
I rip his shirt open, the buttons popping in every direction and pinging across the concrete. I shred the material and let it flutter to the floor in ribbons until his slick upper body is bare. His blotchy red nose and protruding belly are clear indicators of his alcoholism, and I wonder when he started drinking to drown out the noise of his sins.
“There’s a part of you, démon, that has always known this day would come, hasn’t it? That’s why you’ve slowly been poisoning your body. I wonder what made you think it could ever outweigh the rotting corpse of your soul?”
My words hang in the air between us, limp like his body as he refuses to respond. It’s fine by me, I’m not looking for a conversation, so I rip the rest of his clothes from his body. The pieces lay scattered around like entrails, the scene a premonition of the future.
I ignore his nude body as I stalk back to my worktable and peruse my options. As much as I want him to no longer exist in this world, it’ll be long before his life winks out. My fingers run over the instruments before I settle on the pins, grasping the box and failing to resist the temptation of shaking them to hear them rattle.
I grin at the sound and pop the lid off, leaving it behind as I move to stand before him. I pull a long thin pin from the box, thekind dressmakers use, and examine the sharp tip. I plunge it into the skin on his arm and delight in the grunt he lets out, the pin is deep but thin enough to not cause much damage.
I stick them in him all over his arms and legs and over the tops of his shoulders, but I’m not satisfied so I shove the shiny metal into his belly button and watch as his whole body tries to contain his response.
Even I cringe at that one, as if I could feel it.
I stand back and admire my work, but something is missing. I peruse his body, coated in a thin layer of fresh sweat from the pain I’ve inflicted so far, tilting my head at different angles to figure it out.
My mouth splits into a wide grin and I’m a little sad he’s missing out by keeping his remaining eye shut. I bend at the waist, a pin prepped in my hand as I pierce the thin skin and it has the desired effect.
His entire body thrashes, his shouts and screams of “no” and “please” echoing in the room. This won’t do. I move to the wall behind him and tighten the chains holding his feet to minimise his movements.
Pleased that he can’t move as much, I get back to work, decorating his balls with a halo of pins. He’s crying now, but I ignore him as I make my art.
I’m just getting started.
CHAPTER 19
Knock Knock
