Page 57 of Tormented By Regret

Come on, Hoax. Don't let me down.

Hargrave advanced towards me, the scalpel glinting in his hand. "Don’t worry, Lee" he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "I'll make it quick. Or maybe I won't. After all, I invited you here to suffer?"

He slid the scalpel over my forearm, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain. He twisted my arm in the restraints and closed my fists, fighting him.

“No. No,” I gritted out, watching in shock as the blade cut through the vein in my wrist.

Crimson ran down my arm, my tattoos blurring in the blood. My arm slipped and he turned my arm upright, patting me on the shoulder.

“Uh uh, don't let it slip. You'll only die faster,” he whispered in my ear.”

He then tucked the knife in his back pocket and produced a blade, a professional hunting blade. He wielded it in front of me, playing with the edge.

“This is my favorite knife. This is the one that sliced through Lucy.”

He pressed it to my throat, then ran it down my chest and jerked his hand in a stabbing motion, as if he was going to stab me, but he didn't. He only laughed when I jumped in my seat, bracing myself.

He pressed the tip of the blade beneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I wonder if your bird will scream if I slide this against its neck.

“Fuck you,” I spat out, already getting woozy from the loss of blood.”

“Oh no, we can't have that.”

He suddenly jerked his hand; this time he did go through with it. It was a quick motion as the blade entered my side and then it was gone. Pain slowly took my breath away.

We both stared at blood covering the metal, and he clicked his tongue, shaking his head in dismay.

“The things you make me do, Lee.” He then proceeded to wipe the blood away against my leather vest, making sure to coat the patch with my road name.

“Powertrain. You don't look like much of a powertrain anymore, do you?”

“I'm ready to die, Hargrave. But I guarantee, that bird doesn't fly alone.”

“She doesn't?” He raised a brow. “Then I guess we'll just have to find out.

He slowly walked over to the metal cage on the floor. The raven cawed in panic as he reached in for it. He cradled it tightly, stroking its head as it struggled in his grasp. I held my breath as I watched him lift the scalpel over her head. I roared out a cry for help, and that’s when I felt it. That same power that emanated from Whisper.

In all this, I had forgotten about the woman. The woman who resembled my Whisper. The one I thought was a specter. Her cry was not normal. It was painful and full of sorrow. And as I watched the bird flap its wings behind his head, I felt my own human adrenaline kick in.

With all my force, I tipped the chair over, and the wood cracked, just enough for me to tear my arm free. The raven was flicking around Hargrave's head. It's beak digging into his scalp.

Whisper's raven lay motionless on the ground. And I quickly ran to it, gently cradling it.

“Whisper, shift baby. Please shift.” The bird stirred and hope was restored.

“Come on, Whisper.” I lay her on the ground, waiting for that power to come. And when it didn't, my hope was replaced with rage.

I turned to Hargrave, who had managed to get a hold of the raven and I did the only thing I could. I tackled him, bringing him down to the ground. We wrestled, just like we had back in college. Only now I was stronger, more experienced. He maneuvered easily, getting out of my headlock. And suddenly, in one swift move he had me pinned to the ground.

The raven's power once again washed over me, and as I pushed him off and slammed him back on the ground, his blade caught me. I stumbled back, falling against the remnants of a bed's metal railing.

Outside the window, the sound of motorcycle engines filled the night. Inside, I sat in shock, completely helpless as the blade protruded from my chest. My breathing was shallow, and I wondered why I wasn’t dead yet.

Looking over to my tight, I noticed Whisper's naked form lying limply on the floor. If she died, then I'd die. The screams that emanated from Ronald Hargrave were satisfying. The raven was digging his eyes out-a gruesome scene to watch. And as he lay there, his face marred, his breathing shallow, I smiled at him this time.

“I win,” I whispered, taking one last slow breath.

EPILOGUE ONE

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