Page 35 of Payback
Quick to barter for his freedom, his desperation returned as I continued my motionless position.
“Hey! Are you listening?” he growled. “I can pay you!”
I cared not for his tainted wealth, earned through his perverse deeds. My sole intent was for him to comprehend the agony he had inflicted upon that unfortunate girl.
“Listen, whoever sent you, you’re making a grave error by aiding them,” he threatened. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
The familiar script unfolded. First, confusion washed over him, followed by desperate pleading, then escalating anger and, finally, threats. Yet all his words faded into nothingness as I prepared to begin my work. Rising from my seat with deliberate slowness, I observed the widening of his eyes. I began to circle him, allowing him to taste the fear of being hunted. Catching him off guard was essential. During my circuit around him, I twisted the cloth fragments together in my hand. Swiftly, I seized his hair and thrust the makeshift gag into his mouth, causing him to choke on it. My knife materialized in my hand, drawn from its sheath on my thigh, and in a single fluid motion, I drove it into his thigh. A scream tore from his throat, his body contorting in agony. I pressed the fabric deeper into his mouth, smothering his cries. Overwhelmed by pain, he writhed, the chair screeching a discordant symphony in response. I chose to leave the knife embedded in his thigh, ensuring he wouldn’t bleed out too swiftly. As his gag reflex was triggered, he began to cough, and I removed the cloth to prevent him from choking on his own vomit. He leaned to the side, expelling the contents of his stomach. A faint smile played on my lips as I effortlessly returned to my seat and settled back down. Once his bout of vomiting subsided, he turned his eyes to me, his expression a mix of bewilderment and fear.
“Why are you doing this?” he croaked.
I leaned my chair back slightly, adopting a supremely relaxed posture. I recognized the provocative effect of appearing so at ease, as if this were all just a game. In my mind, that’s precisely what it was. A game I thoroughly reveled in playing.
“Why the hell are you doing this?” he shouted.
It was consistently satisfying to witness them posing this question. Deep down, they comprehended precisely why I had come for them. Yet, confessing their heinous deeds as actual crimes wasn’t within their inclination. To do so would force them to acknowledge the unacceptability of their actions. No human relished the knowledge that they had erred. It’s a universal trait. We thrived on the assurance of our righteousness, and the power of denial and futile fabrications was a powerful tool to transform wrongdoing into justified actions.
No, she wanted it...
She didn’t say no...
She resisted only a little...
I only had to plead a hundred times to coax her into my bed...
If she didn’t want attention, she shouldn’t have dressed provocatively...
Attackers understood when they’d done something wrong. They recognized their actions as unacceptable. Yet with a handful of excuses, they could even convince themselves that what they’d done was not just acceptable but warranted. Shift blame onto the victim and liberate oneself from guilt. That’s where people like Vince and I came in. In one form or another, a reckoning was always due, and I was there to collect. I never proclaimed moral superiority. I never painted myself as the hero masked as the villain. I was the villain. I had coerced a woman into surrendering her autonomy right to me, granting me the authority to treat her as I pleased. I had hunted down all my past tormentors and systematically dismantled their lives. Alison, however, never anticipated my move. She had distanced herself from most of them, and I took care to ensure my intervention wasn’t glaringly evident. Fortunately, shattering people’s lives proved astonishingly simple. One small, dark secret revealed, and they crumbled. With someone like Alison, a bit more was necessary, and that’s what appealed to me about biding my time before confronting her. It evolved into a twisted game that I delighted in playing.
“Answer me!” my target demanded.
I didn’t. He wasn’t worthy of an answer. The torment of not understanding the reason behind your suffering was a mental anguish. I rose from my seat, distancing myself from him. He shouted after me, seeking insight into my intentions. I approached a small table adorned with various selections of tea and coffee. Filling the kettle with water, I activated it, the sound of the water simmering filling the air. He comprehended the unfolding scenario and struggled to break free from his restraints, yet his efforts were in vain.
“Seriously! This doesn’t have to happen!” he pleaded.
I disregarded his pleas, awaiting the water to reach the ideal temperature. Once the kettle emitted a beep indicating its readiness, I chose a cup. A small teabag found its way into the cup, immersed in the hot water. An inviting fragrance wafted up, tickling my senses. Returning to my target with the cup in hand, I settled down before him, cupping it, his expression showing his confusion.
“If all you were after was some tea, you could’ve just asked,” he joked nervously, attempting to lighten the atmosphere and momentarily evade the dire circumstances he found himself in. Continuing to steep the teabag in the warm water, the aroma grew more potent. He observed, bewildered, shifting his gaze between my eyes and the teabag. Having prolonged the moment sufficiently, I stood up once more. Waiting until I stood behind him, I lifted the mask a fraction, savoring a sip of the tea.
“Ah, excellent tea,” I remarked.
“Wait, did you just sp—Ah!” Anticipating the instant he turned his head toward me, I flicked my wrist, unleashing scalding tea all over his face. Ensuring I clung to the teabag’s string, I emptied its contents onto him. Grabbing the steaming teabag, I discarded the cup, letting it shatter against the floor. Swiftly, I inserted my fingers into his mouth and proceeded to stuff the scorching bag inside, muffling his screams by pressing his jaw closed to prevent him from expelling it. I bided my time, waiting for the bag’s temperature to drop, searing his mouth, before finally relenting and withdrawing it. Readjusting my mask, I returned to my position, a sense of satisfaction filling me as I observed him expel the bag, his cries resonating from the pain. A smile spread across my face as I nestled back and got comfortable.
“It’s not enjoyable when something’s forced into you, is it?” I taunted, adopting a darker tone than my customary one. He leaned forward, saliva dripping from his mouth, evidence of the difficulty he faced in even closing it. Gradually, he raised his gaze from the floor, directing his focus upon me.
“W-What?” he croaked, my words providing the only hint I would offer him. Once more, I vacated my seat, forcing him backward into the chair’s backrest, eliciting a groan from him. Seizing the knife’s handle, I observed his eyes widen as they locked onto my grip. Desperation fueled his head-shaking, a clear desire to prevent me from removing it. Swiftly, I acted, withdrawing the knife in one fluid motion, eliciting an ear-piercing scream. To stifle his cries, I pressed my hand against his mouth, muffling the agonized wails. After waving the knife’s tip in front of him, I pressed it against his chest’s surface. All the while maintaining pressure on his mouth with my other hand, I began to inscribe—in a rather sloppy manner—sizeable letters onto his chest.
P R E D A T O R
I pulled back once more, surveying my handiwork and relishing the sight of blood coursing down from the wounds etched onto his chest. His tears flowed more profusely now, and amid his tearful gaze, he attempted to decipher the message I had carved. However, his sobs grew louder as comprehension dawned upon him upon reading the word. Witnessing a man cry so pathetically was undeniably gratifying. Curiously, a woman’s tears failed to evoke the same response within me. Yet, observing a man who had assumed himself the sovereign of the world crumble into a pitiful imbecile provided a satisfaction beyond expression. The anticipation of returning home to quell this dark desire that had surged within me was overpowering. I knew that the instant Alison came into view, my longing would be fiercer than ever. Taking her would be fast and hard.
“Why are you subjecting me to this?” he wailed loudly, though deep down, he was well aware of the answer. Sometimes, allowing denial to triumph was our way of navigating life. There were moments when ignorance truly proved to be bliss. I strolled past my incapacitated target, proceeding to retrieve the remaining scalding water. As much as I would have preferred to auction off this scum for mere pennies, allowing him to experience the agony of a cock thrust into him in confined spaces, my orders were to execute. I could indulge to a point, but not beyond. The water’s temperature had waned slightly, yet it retained its steaminess. I emptied it onto his back, causing his screams to intensify in volume. Grabbing the remote control, I amplified the TV’s volume before emptying the remaining water upon him. His skin turned a vibrant crimson akin to that of a lobster, and his pleas for mercy echoed around me. However, his mercy would be given solely on my terms.
Chapter 19
-Jared-
I wiped my knife clean on my target’s pants, noticing how his head drooped forward. Blood was trickling from his wounds, and his body wore blisters from the scalding. A smile crept across my face as I gazed upon the lifeless form before me. We had engaged in this macabre dance for slightly over an hour—a conclusion that arrived sooner than I desired. Yet, the symphony of his screams only heightened my anticipation for other cries I yearned to hear. However, there was still work to be done before I could depart. The task of cleaning up lay ahead. Safely stowing my knife, I removed my mask and cast it onto the floor. Gently untying my victim, I pushed the chairs aside and carefully laid him on the carpet. Disassembling the chairs, I placed the pieces beside the dead target, bundling everything together. Vince would need to invest in new furniture, a cost he likely didn’t find bothersome. After securing the body within the carpet, I approached the door, where the big goons remained stationed.
