Page 111 of Exile
Sweaty palms curl into fists, a moment of lucidity falling over him as he sizes me up. Sure, he has the weight advantage, but I have something he never will—the desire to turn my girl's rapist into maggot compost.
He'll never touch Avery again. Never steal moments from her that don't belong to him—or anyone.
I clock him coming at me before he's even moved, tipping the shiv up as he lunges through the damp alleyway. The squelch of tearing flesh is music to my ears, my hand against his potbelly as I wiggle the shiv around.
Where's that bravery now? The one he had when impaling his wrinkled sausage into innocent girls? Not so tough when I've got him impaled on my stick…
There's a gargling sound, followed by choking as I twist the shiv upwards, aiming straight for his ribcage. I hit boneat first, gripping his shoulder to steady him as I jerk it around carelessly until I feel something else—hopefully a lung.
Blood gushes and weeps from the wound, the would-be circular entrance a now jagged line as I use all my strength to carve his flesh.
Withdrawing the dripping blade, I plunge into his throat. I deliberately aim for his thyroid—the right side because I'm a sucker for symmetry and shit—before piercing it through his left shoulder. Balance.
His knees start to buckle but I'm not ready to end this yet. "Oh, no you don't Marty," I tsk, shoving him backwards to push him against the wall. "You need to knowwhyI'm doing this so that when you descend to the depths of Hell, it's on your conscience."
I wait for him to speak, realizing that I've probably severed his vocal cords—oops.
Sighing, I get to the point. "Avery White," I say clearly so there's no mistaking who I'm here for. "You took something from her because of your dear old buddy. And now, I'm taking your life from you."
Dark blue eyes widen at me, my grin wide as he lands on the same page. That's it… think of her and all your regrets as you leave this earth.
"I'm going to go home shortly," I tell him, slowly pulling the shiv out of his body. "And while you're here, dying and being put out of your miserable existence, I'm going to fuck her over and over to ensure I erase all traces of you. ThenI'll burn your body with acid so that there's no traces of you physically either. Life's a bitch, pumpkin. And that bitch is Grey."
Delivering the final blow, I slice the shiv straight across his throat, doing a damn job better than my father. The line is somewhat perfect, at least from what I can see as blood pours out and he collapses on the ground.
Wiping the blade on my jeans, I tilt my head back, breathing in that sweet smell of death. It's so good, so satisfying.
A few minutes later, headlights appear at the end of the alleyway, heading my way. I lean against the wall, one foot resting on the newly deceased as the stolen van pulls up next to me.
"I thought we said to keep it clean," Theo grunts, leaning out of the driver's way and surveying the blood on the ground.
"What?" I ask amused. "Itisclean by my standards. He's in one piece, isn't he?"
Theo sighs, getting out of the van and walking round the side to slide open the door. Together, the two of us lift the sack of shit and toss him onto the pre-prepared plastic tarp. Theo glances around at the ground with a disapproving look.
"You're lucky I brought chemicals with me," he scolds, shoving a container into my arms as he starts dousing the ground with another.
I grin. "I knew I could count on you, brother-in-law. Speaking of which, is Avery with Damon?"
Theo nods. "Yep. Righteous prick organized apampering session—whatever that is meant to be."
Cackling, I just imagine Damon supervising a mani-pedi session, having Avery fawn over what color polish to choose. I wouldn't be surprised if we return and find his nails painted. I've been trying to convince him for years to give it a go. He'd probably give in to her just to spite me.
"Alright done," Theo exclaims, tossing the empty container on top of Martin. "Ready?"
I nod, screwing the lid back on. "Let's go conduct some scientific experiments to see how long it takes Martin to disintegrate into nothing."
Avery looks content and comfortable when we arrive back home. Deadman too—but if I tell him he looks cute with his head resting on her shoulder while she sleeps curled up under his arm on the couch, he may launch a cushion or knife at my head.
Even through the shadows, I can see his warning glare, daring me to call him out on his little romantic love nest. Reflections of flames dance around the room from thefireplace, creating illusions on the newly painted walls, and I take a moment to admire them again. Avery picked the color, of course—a dark scarlet—which I tell myself was for me as a reward for her bedroom color.
"Aw, damn. We missed her," I groan as Theo stops next to me. He puts the cardboard box he's carrying on the floor and slinks out of his hoodie.
Narrowing his eyes at me, he scolds, "Told you not to make a fucking mess."
I shrug lazily. "It was worth it. Besides, we have every day with her for the rest of our lives."
"So, it's done?" Damon asks knowingly.
