Page 14 of Leo, My Partner

He’s very plain, honestly. Lank, brown hair, a small nose, a wide mouth that reminds me of a fish, and pasty white skin. He gives me the impression of someone you’d trust because he looks so unassuming and doesn’t draw attention to himself. How very wrong everyone was about this piece of shit.

He coughs, spitting out blood that has filled his mouth from the three molars I pulled, along with a few enamel shards from when I broke them while trying to get my perfect tooth.

“Please,” he implores, voice muffled from pain and the ever-flowing, lifesaving sustenance dripping down his chin.

“Please, what?” I ask, head tilted as I size him up. They always beg. It’s pointless that they attempt to sway me since I’ve already been paid—and I would never cancel a job just because my victim begged—but I like to hear the pleas. I relish in knowing that they believe they can persuade me. They try with their last breaths.

It’s been a while—four months, two weeks and six days to be exact—since I’ve been able to torture someone. The last time was when I was with Blu and June. Even then, I didn’t go all out. I didn’t want June to see me like that. Even though he knows I’m a killer and a psychopath, I don’t think he could have handled the injuries I really wanted to inflict. But on my own, I can get a creative as I’d like.

My cousin, Blu, is also a serial killer, though he doesn’t get paid for what he does. He’s driven by something he calls his beast, murdering whoever it directs him to. As Blu’s boyfriend, June goes with him on his kills. The one I tagged along with them on, I got to do a little bleach torture. But I wanted so much more.

While training with my Grandpa Ivan in Russia, he taught me different torture techniques. A lot of them are my favorites, and I wish I could use them as often as I’d like. But unfortunately, not everyone that hires me calls for their marks to be tortured. For this kill, fortune shined down on me. When I read what the client wanted, I accepted the contract without hesitation.

Ralph swallows thickly, starting his begging anew. “Please, I need a doctor.”

A light laugh burst free from my lips, reverberating against the walls of this shitty building. “You need chemical castration since you like touching children. But we can’t always get what we want.”

From the email I received along with the first half of my payment when I accepted the contract, this piece of shit was a counselor at a local youth center and has too many victims to count.

The person that hired me asked me if I could cut his fingers off first, then his dick, then slit his throat to end him. He gave me free rein for what I did in between.

Ralph wiggles his finger stumps, looking at his missing phalanges as he cries softly. “I’ll apologize. I’ll confess. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just let me go.”

Getting down on my haunches, I meets Ralph’s eyes with my most serious expression. I’m not sure I pull it off, since he starts sobbing again. “If I let you go, you’ll tell the police what you did? What you’ve been doing for the past fifteen years? You expect me to believe that?”

He nods vigorously. “Yes! Yes, I’ll go. You can drop me off after I’m seen by a doctor. Please!” he shouts, crying louder. “I don’t want to die.”

“And you won’t tell them what happened here? You won’t tell them how you got carved up and how I practiced being a dentist on you?”

“No! I won’t breathe a word! I swear it!” He gives me an earnest expression, like he believes every word and is trying to use his swollen eyes to implore me to do the same.

“Oh, Ralph.” I pat his cheek and stand, sliding on a new pair of gloves and grabbing my machete. It’s perfect to slice off his cock but is maybe overkill to cut this throat. I walk back over to him and pat his cheek again in a patronizing way. “That won’t work. I’m paid to kill you, not negotiate with you. My deal is already made.”

“Help! Hel—” I slap my hand over his mouth, squeezing tight so he feels the ache of his empty gum sockets. He thrashes, eyes watering as he tries to dislodge me. It’s not like anyone can hear him—I staked this place out, and it’s not near any open businesses or residential areas. I just don’t want to hear the screams for help right now. His howls of pain are more welcome.

When he’s had enough, I remove my hand but not before I give him one final hard squeeze. I’m glad I have on gloves. I hate the mixture of blood and spit. Terrible consistency. “I need one thing from you before we finish this.”

“Anything,” Ralph says on a sob. “Anything you want. Just let me go.”

“Anything, huh? Are your cock and balls included in that?”

His head flies up, and he tries to thrash out of my grasp. Before he can wiggle away from me, I grab Ralph’s dick and balls with one hand and slice them off in a jagged swipe with the other. There is no finesse with how I relieve him of his offending parts, and I don’t give a fuck. As long as the appendage is gone, my job is complete.

Ralph’s aborted scream makes my heart hammer, and a rush goes through my veins. Fucking yes. This is what I live for. The screams, the pain, the agony they suffer. I fucking love it.

“Time to finish this. I would ask if you had any last words, but I think you’ve said enough. Besides, you can’t muster any, can you, champ?” I ask rhetorically. By now, Ralph is making ragged groaning sounds, not able to scream anymore. Tapping the machete against my thigh, I tell him, “Jeremy Koffer sends his regards.”

Ralph’s swollen eyes bulge again, and he twists more to break free since he knows there is no hope for him. Blood is gushing from between his legs, but he’s still trying to get away. Even if he could break from the ropes binding his wrists, he wouldn’t get very far from how much he’s bleeding. He has some fight in him, I’ll admit that.

From what I could dig up, Jeremy used to frequent a youth center in his neighborhood because his mom was always at work to support him and his siblings. His abuse started about a month after he met Ralph. Ralph was able to continue the abuse for a few years before Jeremy had the courage to tell someone. But Jeremy being from a low-income family and Ralph having a nearly spotless record, the authorities didn’t do anything. Ralph was fired from his job but continued to work around kids, since he didn’t have to disclose why he was let go from the community center.

Jeremy decided to stop him since the law didn’t.

Ralph knows he fucked up because Jeremy was the only one who came forward. Jeremy vowed to get his revenge when nothing came of his report.

Avoiding stepping in the blood that accumulated under Ralph’s naked and mutilated body, I pull his head back and place the machete against his skin, right over his Adam’s apple. Smiling, I draw the machete slowly across his throat. I slice it open, cutting from ear to ear.

Ralph pulls against the ties and thrashes in the chair as if to dislodge himself, but there’s no way he can. I watch, smiling down at him so he knows the Grim Reaper paid him a visit for all of his misdeeds.

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