Page 59 of Demons & Damnation

Next came a little more detail.

Torture—smash kneecaps, remove toes one by one, remove fingers one by one, pull teeth, pluck eyes, sever Achilles tendons, cut off ears, flog with barbed wire whip, pour sea salt into wounds, slit scrotum and remove testicles, bamboo canes into urethra, *research organ removal and adrenaline shots*

Lower into tank of hydrochloric acid—mechanical winch, no more than two centimetres at a time, toes first.

Bury alive in cement—will need to drug in order to handle him to relevant place *research current possibilities and security outside of daylight hours*

And then some undeveloped ideas that needed more research.

Find abandoned building, tie up, leave to starve.

Tie to train tracks.

Stake to the ground and run over with steamroller.

Tie legs to one thing (tree, building), arms to back of lorry/tractor/truck, and pull.

Feed to fighting dogs.

Pin to tree, cover in fish guts and leave for carrion birds.

Bury alive.

Feed to pigs.

Hang upside down, pierce jugular with minute hole.

The further she’d delved into murderous ways, the more enraged she’d become, caring less for detail and only chasing the agony that she could force him to endure.

However, she’d never gotten as far as to think about her mother. As Kyla stared at the paper, debating her options, she wondered if now was that time.

Today was the first time in years she’d felt alive, that the buzz in her veins filled her with something she couldn’t control, where she could release herself and do as she pleased. Raging out at Keith had lessened some of her pent-up anger, relieving her to an extent that was not dissimilar to squeezing a spot. Most of the infection had been released but all that remained was an empty hole surrounded by angry, red skin harbouring an uneasy soreness beneath it.

Kyla knew, in that moment, that unless she faced and dealt with this hidden fury, her life would never be settled. At some point, it would always come back to haunt her, no matter where she was or what she did.

Her issue was how to deal with it, or rather more how to deal with other people who would have issues with her chosen methods. Nothing of her life had been easy since that day, not one bit, but her mother and Tony hadn’t even given her a second thought. Did they know, or even care, that he’d ripped her to shreds, leaving her incapable of bearing children? With this darkness lingering inside her, should she even be thinking about that anyway? Thinking about murdering your own mother was hardly maternal instinct number one.

She knew right from wrong, her mother had taught her that, but then came the question of if she could teach Kyla right from wrong, how could she then do this to her?

Kyla only knew one person who could give her all the answers, who could be the balm to soothe the pain gnawing away at her. What she didn’t know was how she would be received. Would they even want to speak to her?

Chewing her lip, Kyla scrolled through the contact list in her phone. When she reached the number she wanted, she hovered her thumb over it, hesitant if it would be a good idea or not. It had been nearly a decade after all.

Was a phone call after all this time really an appropriate thing to do? Or should she just go see them? Or completely forget about it?

Kyla took herself back to bed, vowing to sleep before making any big decisions. Everything was always better after a sleep.

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