Page 13 of The Colour of Revenge

---

Daddy Death:You asked for the best way.

Daddy Death:Poetry? Strip them with comfort. Slow suffocation works wonders.

Pink Princess:Comfort?

Daddy Death:Rope, tape, and a chair they can't escape. Watching time tick by does things to a man.

Pink Princess:You've put too much thought into this.

Daddy Death:And you haven't?Hypothetically, of course.

Pink Princess:Obviously.

Daddy Death:Let me guess—this is purely for research?

Pink Princess:…Sure.

Daddy Death:Right. Let me know if you need a knife, princess. Or a cleanup.

Pink Princess:Don't tempt me.

Daddy Death:Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.

4

I Don’t Even Know How It Got On The Ceiling

Hypothetical Question: If you had to kill someone using only things you can find in a hotel room, how would you do it?

Carina

GarethCrane.Secondonmy list.

He pretended to care. Made me trust him. Then handed me over to the monster who turned my life into a nightmare for three hundred and seventy-six days.

I want his death to be slow. Messy. Painful.

Watching Nate drag Peter’s death out—turn it into something twisted—sparked something in me. A realisation. There’s no justice in a quick death.

I want him to suffer.

I pace around Gareth, my heart pounding and my thoughts spinning. I don’t know what I’m doing; I know I want to hurt him.

I want him to feel every ounce of pain I’ve felt.

Gareth squirms in the chair, tied tight, sweat dripping down his face. His eyes flick to the door. To the window. Searching for an escape.

There isn’t one.

I found him in a grimy hotel, stuffing cash into a duffel bag like he was ready to run. That’s where we are now.

I stop before him, taking a slow breath to steady myself.

“You know why you’re here, Gareth?” I sneer.

My fingers tighten around the knife—it’s not pink, the boring colour only serves to anger me further. I slice it through the air, just above the chair’s arm, the steel hissing.

He flinches hard like I’ve already cut him open.

---