Page 11 of Devil's Sweetheart
Jaw dropping from the tight hinge, I simply stare at the man before me. There has to be some type of double standard, something he wants in return. So, I voice it.
“Nope, no strings attached. This is for the girl,” he assures, his head tilting over to the man who stole the light from my girl for a few years. He’s the reason she wasn’t able to breathe without flinching for so long.
“I’m here because of a whore?” He booms, laughing like it’s the most hysterical thing in the world. What the stupid guy doesn’t understand is that I won’t kill him, but I’ll take him right to the brink. “Which whore was it, huh? Oh, I bet it was the pretty brunette? Or was she blond? Or-” My fist slams into his ugly face, the obvious crack of his bone rattles in my ears. A deep inhale has my blood calming slightly, the soreness of my knuckles slowly soothing the beast trying to crawl out of me.
“It’s too bad you don’t remember who it is,” Massimotsks, a few things clattering onto the metal table. It’s the work supplies I’ve collected over the months of working with him. He sweeps a hand over it all before taking a step back.
Grabbing his hair, I wrench his head backward, letting him stare up into my devilish face. While I can’t look in a fucking mirror to see what he sees, I can guarantee that he’s staring at the face of the devil.
“You know, I thought you died,” I begin, shoving his head forward. The chair jolts beneath him as it threatens to either break or topple. “You didn’t show your face around here for so long, yet here you are. Sitting in the cave of your worst nightmare.”
“I’ve not had a single nightmare about you,” he lamely spits out. Hand tightly wrapping around his throat from behind, the choking sound immediately indicates he’s struggling to breathe.
“I would say that hurts my feelings, but…” I trail off, holding out a hand. A zippo is placed on my palm. Flipping it open, the flame blazes to life. Bringing it in front of his face, the guys around us chuckle as they stare at his tortured expression.
I release his throat and come around in front of him without the fire dying. Bringing it to his eyes, he tries to wiggle and break the rope holding him, the chain clattering on the chair as he fights it.
“This is going to hurt a lot more.” His head tips back to try and avoid it, but he’s as far extended as he can go. Burning the lashes on his eye, the heat isn’t enough to melt his skin, but enough to singe the hairs to the root and burn the lid. He hisses but doesn’t scream. I don’t need him to scream just yet. I need him to hurt, slow and tortured.
His other eye holds the same fate, his eyes squeezed as tightly as they’ll get. Eyebrows next, then a blow torch is replacing the simple lighter.
“Do you remember a girl named Birdie? The one you stole her virginity from?” I growl, firing the torch. He doesn’t respond, the only reaction he gives is a subtle lift of his non-existent eyebrows. “So, you do!” I clap in mock joy, earning a glare from the man.
“Fuck you!” He spits again, trying and failing to escape the confines.
“I don’t know if you know this, but you won’t be leaving here alive,” Massimo taunts. Glancing over at him, his body leans casually against the far wall.
“You’ll pay for this!” Another round of laughs taunts the guy, while I get to work.
Firstly, I relish in his screams as his hair goes up in flames. The sensitive flesh that is usually covered by the dead skin blazes hotly, the smell of burning flesh makes my beast simultaneously relax and roar. No blood drips since the veins are basically being cauterized.
Eyes dropping, he starts passing out. One of Massimo’s men injects him with something as his eyes pop open almost immediately.
This fucker is in for a long night.
Birdie
Positive. It’s fucking positive. Not only that, but now my world is turning upside down.
“It’s probably not what it seems,” Viv implores, staring at the photo with me. I haven’t moved, barely even breathing. I don’t know what to think, what to say.
One life changing event after the other. I thought it was going to be the turning point for us, the one thing he’s talked about and literally worked at. Now, the truth seems to crash into me like an avalanche.
“It’s pretty fucking clear,” I sob, my throat aching from puking and sputtering in disbelief.
“Look, Birdie, his hand is on her shoulder, fingers open. He’s trying not to touch her!” Sofia comments, zooming in on it.
Words don’t register, the photo seems to have scarred behind my eyes when I close them. I pull the phone from them, trying for the twentieth time to call him.
“Hey, you’ve reached Scout. Please leave-”I push the end button, frustration breaking the walls of my sadness. What if I was on the fucking side of the road dying? What happened to being there for me?
“I’m going to take a walk.” I don’t give them a chance to tell me otherwise, I just take off. My muscles are sore from the crying and throwing up, yet the frigid air and movement eases some of it. Keys jingle in my pocket as I round the corner to the car lot, and my frazzled brain decides that a car ride is exactly what I need to clear my head.
Scout decided it would be good for me to take it, saying he had other things going. Apparently, it was going and screwing another female.
Opening the car, I slide in and white-knuckle grip the steering wheel. Anger and resentment build up my throat, and I release a scream that says it all. I scream for the fetus inside me, I scream for the girl who thought life was happier for her. I scream for everything that has done me wrong in my life.
Without another thought, I press down on the gas and floor it from the gravel. Looking in the rearview, the girls run after me, one holding a phone to her ear and talking rapidly.
