The room went quiet.
“Did you like my story, Fio?”
“No, no… I want to hear more,” he rushed out.
I pressed my lips together, shaking my head. “Unfortunately… that was the end.”
“Please, n—”
I twisted his neck in a sickening snap.
The wailing-like scream from his wife pierced the air, almost making me deaf.
I withdrew my hand from his head, and it fell lifelessly at an odd angle.
And like that, Fio died.
I rose to my full height, turning to see Sofia holding her stomach as she cried, her face scrunched up in pain as her body shook, crying out her husband’s name.
Angelo brushed past, beelining for the door, looking like someone who wanted to throw up.
When I looked at Casmiro, his jaw was clenched tight. His eyes weren’t on me; they were on Fio.
Of course they were on Fio. He’d just witnessed his life from start to finish.
I could have just killed him. I didn’t have to make anyoneknowhim before I did. I didn’t have to make them care… I didn’t have to make Fio relive his life and see his death before it happened.
I didn’t have to make his wife watch.
But I did.
Why?
Because I am sick in the head.
Because I’m The Wicked.
Because I… I liked it.
My hands shook. I balled them into fists before releasing and shoving them into my pockets.
The cries from Sofia attached themselves to my brain, resounding in echoes.
I stepped closer to her and ground my teeth as I said, “Shut up.”
She didn’t seem to hear.
“Shut. Up,” I repeated, and she snapped upright, pressing her lips together to try to stifle her cry. Her body shook, tears streaming down her face as she held her stomach, body tight with withheld tears, eyes unable to meet mine.
I turned to Casmiro.
“See to it that she’s taken care of,” I stated, making him look up at me with guarded eyes.
“Taken care of…” Something like hope lingered in his voice.
“Six feet under. Alive with her husband.”
“No… ¡por favor!” Sofia cried out, hand grasping my arm. “I don’t care what you do to me, but let—please! Please let me have my baby first. She’s innocent. Please, sir.”