Page 63 of Tormenting Me

“Wait, wait…don’t do it, Laney. I’m just a sick man. It’s all in my head… I couldn’t help it.” He pleads with me, but his words fall on deaf ears as I inch the saw forward, the jagged edges piercing through his flesh.

Blood drips from his wrist as he begins to scream and curse at me.

“Fuuuuck, you stupid fucking cunt.”

I keep sawing. The resistance from the bone is giving me trouble, so I try to push all my weight into it. A snap and the bone breaks. His hand now hangs off of his arm by a thin sliver of skin. Blood pools on the plastic sheet beneath us. Euphoria flows through me. I never thought that taking back my power would ever make me feel this way.

My hands tremble as I saw through Bannister’s other wrist. The mixture of fear, anger, and adrenaline courses through my veins. Each pull of the saw brings me closer to reclaiming my autonomy, to erase the scars he left in my mind and soul.

Bannister’s screams echo in the room, a symphony of agony that is music to my ears. His pleas for mercy are drowned out by the deafening roar of my own empowerment. I refuse to let him diminish the strength I’ve found within myself. The strength Wes has given me.

Wes watches silently, his presence a comforting reassurance that I’m no longer alone. I am no longer a victim, but a survivor.

Corbin Bannister can no longer hurt me.

Wes moves forward, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “You are so strong, baby. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

I’m proud of myself too. Right now, I am not the broken little girl. I am strong. I am wanted and loved.

Wes takes the saw from my trembling hands, his own hands now stained with blood. The same hands that bring me such tender love and care, covered in the man’s blood whose words and action pull me away from him. Wes drops the saw to the ground, his hands now on my thighs. I feel his hand grasp one blade from my harness. He glides the tip up my thigh, sending a shiver through me.

“Silence him. For all the disgusting words he’s ever whispered to you in the dark. The words I know replay in your mind.” Wes sets the blade in my palm, gently closing my fingers around the hilt.

“What if he bites me?” I look over at Bannister. He’s looking pretty pale from the blood loss. “We probably need to work fast. He looks like he’s dying.”

“Two seconds,” Wes says, holding up two fingers. Running towards the workbench, he grabs a hot metal plate that has been sitting in a metal basin. “Step aside, baby. And plug your nose, this isn’t gonna smell good.”

I step to the side and watch as Wes presses the hot plate to Bannister’s wrist. The smell of singed flesh makes its way up my nose and I immediately want to throw up. Bannister’s screams fill the warehouse and I look around at the walls, hoping this place is soundproof. Wes finishes up Bannister’s other wrist and now the bleeding has stopped and all that remains is the charred flesh of his nubby little arms.

Wes moves to stand behind Bannister, grabbing his greasy hair and jolting him back awake. “If you bite my wife, I will shove your severed hand so far up your ass that you’ll feel it in your intestines.”

Wes nods for me to come over. I stand before Bannister, thinking of every nasty thing he ever said to me. The words play over and over. Things a little girl should never hear.

“I bet this little pussy feels like heaven.”

“Soon I’ll have you crying while my cock is inside you. Your little pussy, ass, and mouth.”

“You’re mine, Laney-Bear. You belong to me.”

“Baby,” Wes says sweetly. My eyes snap to his, my breathing rough and uneven.

“Shove the blade in his mouth and cut down. The tongue is a tough muscle to cut through.”

I look Bannister in the eyes. “Your words can’t hurt me anymore.”

Wes pries his mouth open and I shove the knife in, slicing through the thick muscle. Blood pours out of his mouth, he screams and blood sprays over our faces. I reach into his mouth and produce his severed tongue Wes straightens Bannister, his head lolling from side to side. “Can’t speak your filth when you have no tongue.”

This is a cathartic release, a way to regain control over the memories that have haunted me for so long.

I inspect his tongue before tossing over my shoulder, shrugging. Wes cracks a wide smile, his perfectly straight teeth showing. “You ready to take his eyes, baby?”

The thought of removing his eyes makes my stomach turn. I shake my head. “I don’t think I can,” I say with a heavy sigh.

In a fit of disgust, Wes forcefully releases Bannister’s head and steps closer to me. His touch on my cheek is gentle, reassuring. “Would you like me to do it?” he asks softly.

“Would you?” I look up at him through my lashes.

“As you wish, Ma Petite Mort,“ Wes says, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He’s willing to do anything for me, to help me heal and regain control over my life.

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