Page 25 of Ruthless Son

“No, no, I’m telling the truth,” he babbled, I leaned back so the spittle didn’t land on me. I didn’t much mind bodily fluids but I drew the line at having it land on my cut. “Actually, hold this for me.” I placed the blade in his hand before I shrugged off the precious leather and hung it on the hook by the door. When I turned back round he was frantically trying to twist his arm to slice open the straps, but the poor guy couldn’t quite reach. “Thanks for helping out.” I grasped the knife and slowly slid it from his sweaty hands, his fingers trying desperately to hold onto his last hope of escaping.

“No no no, please, no.” His plea was almost as pleasurable as getting my cock sucked by whatshername last night—almost. But one of the best parts is when that hope is extinguished, the light in their eyes dies well before their soul leaves this realm when they realize that these four walls and my face are the last things they see.

I placed the knife down beside his head and listened to his sobs as I put on my latex gloves—medical grade of course. I didn’t want to risk getting his blood on my hands, you never knew what kinds of diseases people had these days.

“Ok, Mickey, this might sting.” The first cut always has them screaming in shock, even though I warn them it’s coming, and Mickey was no different. Maybe next time I’d just do it and see if the lack of a warning made it feel worse. The slice across his vein in the crook of his elbow had blood welling up quickly and pooling out to pour down his side. The second cut in the exact same place on the other arm was expected, but just as noisy. “Damn, Mickey, that’s a lot of blood. Are you sure you don’t have something to say.”

“Rex, I’m sorry man, I was just given the bags to sell, I’m sorry I’m sorry?—”

“And who gave them to you?” I gripped his chin with my free hand, I hadn’t even properly started and already he was giving into the pain—pussy.

“A guy… in a suit… I call him… his number is on my phone. Under suit-guy… I call him when I need more and he drops it off… I swear that’s it.” His eyes squeezed closed against the pain, his tears came as quickly as the blood pouring from his arms.

“Thank you, Micke.,” I patted his cheek, and his eyes popped open in relief. “You’ve been mighty helpful.”

The tube was the size of one of those giant candy cables that Gauge was addicted to, the guy was a sugar whore and had a constant supply of them in his room. The silicone was clear to better see what was going in… and coming out.

Mickey’s high pitched shrill almost burst my ear drums as I squeezed the tip into the slit I’d cut into him, there was some resistance as he tensed his arm. “You know this would go in much easier if you just relaxed.” I pushed harder, feeling a pop as blood squirted across my hands—and this was why I wore gloves. With the tube inserted, I placed the other end over the bucket, watching a crimson stream ooze through the clear silicone and drip into the bottom of the bucket.

“I’m gonna bleed out, man, please… help…” Mickey wept, his chest heaving in great sobs.

“Yea, man, that’s kinda the point.” I chuckled as I walked to the other side, the second cable in my grip.

This one slid in easier, the tube fitting in perfectly to the gash in his arm, the pain almost making him lose consciousness, so there was no resistance. “Perfect.”

His moans were longer and drawn out, his face wet from the tears that still fell.

The shelf on the wall held other things of necessity, instruments important for the next part.

Grabbing what I needed, I ambled over to a hidden cupboard, and dragged out a cylinder—it was unnamed, with nothing on it to highlight its contents.

Holding the smelling salts under his nostrils, his eyes shot open, the blood vessels prominent in the whites of his eyes. They looked almost red from the physical strain his body was being put through, but they still didn’t look as bad as the black that surrounded Mia’s eye.

When he realized he was still in my hellhole, he broke out in embarrassing sobs, liquid leaked from every orifice, a dark stain appearing at the front of his pants. “I told you… every… everything,” he hiccupped. “Why won’t you… let me go?”

“Mickey, Mickey, Mickey,” I sighed, “I never said I would let you go, besides you hurt my woman yesterday.” I watched as the recognition hit him, his face losing every bit of color. I nodded as he mumbled excuses about not knowing who she was and how sorry he was, but he was drunk… the usual excuses when a man laid a hand on a woman.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it in your weird way, but the fact is, I promised her that you would never hurt her again… or her sister. These are the consequences of your actions, and now it’s time to introduce you to the final act.” The drum was heavy as I lifted the thing to his side, and attached the hanging tube to the nozzle before twisting the spout to open up the contents and start the process.

“You remember what I told you earlier, about what I did for a living? This, my friend, is formaldehyde.” I patted the cylinder, watching the clear liquid run through the tube and enter his body. He jolted as the first rush of the acid-like substance hit his system, horror washing over his face. As the formaldehyde washed through him, his blood poured out of the second tube that hung over the bucket, a little puddle of scarlet already formed.

“It usually takes about two hours to complete but you’ll be dead before then, you’ll either bleed out or the mix will cause your blood cells to rupture, acidosis may set in.” His body convulsed, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he groaned, the potent mix used to preserve the dead now doing the opposite and taking life. “This means your organs will start to break down and eventually stop working, but you’ll be in agony before that happens. Perhaps you’ll be as lucky as the last guy who had a heart attack, he got out of it easy.” As I walked around tidying up, packing things away that I hadn’t needed, I continued to talk to him. “But, I don’t think you’ll be that lucky, a young healthy guy like yourself.” His screams started up again, the toxin working its way through him and burning him from the inside out as his life-giving liquid was forced out of him. He took for granted what he had been given, and he used his strength to abuse the weak. Now he was the abused and he would never harm another ever again.

I pulled the folding chair from the hidden cupboard and set it up against the wall, resting my legs while I waited for nature to run its course.

Then I just watched. I watched the man writhe on the gurney, his limbs trying to move, his hips thrashing in a futile attempt to escape his fate. And all the while I sat there, my gloves disposed of, my arms crossed over my chest, just waiting for the inevitable.

Sly appeared at the door, his gaze wandering over the dying man in the middle of the room. Splashes of blood stained the floor, which would be cleaned up once I was done with him and his body made use of. At this point, Mickey was far more valuable to us dead, his body used to transport the drugs that he was screwing us—how ironic.

“He still going?” He scratched at the bristle along his cheek, a surprised laugh rushing out of my brother. “Daaamn! Did you get what we needed?”

“It’s on his phone.” The tech officer nodded, a glint of glee entering his eyes before he rushed off to find the device that would end all this bullshit and start putting the town to rights again.

Mickey’s chest stuttered once, twice before falling still. The death rattle a long exhale of trapped air in his breathless body.

Finally, I was beginning to think he wouldn’t ever fucking die.

Rex

---