Page 90 of Lesson Learned

I hold the knife in front of his face, making sure he can see it before I shift it lower, taking some small pleasure in the twitches that are all the movement he’s now capable of. I drag the tip from his chest all the way down to his crotch. While I stare into his eyes, I plunge the blade straight into his groin.

And… nothing. James sneers but that’s all. There’s no pain. No sign he feels anything at all, even when I twist it, the spreading crimson stain on his jeans turning the blue fabric black.

Deeply unsatisfying.

“Fuck… you.”

I place my hand over his mouth, sick of listening to him. If he’s numb below the neckline, my need for vengeance will have to be satisfied above it.

Already his eyes are widening, struggling to breathe. It could equally be the spreading paralysis as my hand, though I’m sure that’s not helping.

This time, I point the blade of the knife at his eye.

When it touches to his eyeball, he tries to shut the lids but they’re too late. They flutter against the metal as I push it deeper, moving slowly, drinking in his pain as sustenance for the horrors that lie ahead.

Just as it reaches its deepest point, I lean forward to whisper in his ear, “You don’t touch what’s mine.”

His screams are muffled by my hand, but they stop as he faints. I withdraw the blade, wiping the goo against his shirt, then repeat the procedure in the opposite eye, far less satisfying, though his unconscious body twitches, hopefully still sending those pain signals deep into the meat of his sleeping brain.

I could cut him for longer. The anger inside me grows with each second rather than dissipating.

I could sit and wait for him to wake, then hurt him again, hurt him over and over until his body collapses under the strain.

But Paisley needs me and this shitty excuse for a human being has taken enough of my time.

I clamp my hand tighter over his mouth, tossing the blade on his chest so I can pinch his nostrils closed with the other. Slowly, I count out five minutes. Somewhere in there, his head jerks, one last-ditch effort to get away.

Then there’s stillness.

When I finally remove my hands, I check his neck again for a pulse and find nothing.

Now the people who know what happened in this room has dropped from two down to one. I move to the bathroom door, sliding it open, Paisley staring at me through frightened eyes.

“He’s dead?”

“Yes.” I slide the door closed on the gruesome scene. “And now I need to clear him away. He can’t be found in your room.”

She wrings her hands in front of her, and I pull her into an embrace again, calming myself as I attempt to calm her. “Can you remember what happened?”

“He’s been hurting me. Threatening me. But today, he… I was trying to sort it.”

Trying to sort it. The words hollow out my insides, like she didn’t even think I was worth informing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He threatened to tell on us. You might have lost your job.” She clings to me, trembling again. “After you beat the bartender… I was scared you’d hurt him and be caught and then the police… and you’d lose your job and wind up in prison and I couldn’t do that to you.”

My heart swells, imagining the courage it must have taken to face this alone. All that bravery to spare me the fallout. To save my freedom, my job.

This tiny girl damped down her fear to protect me.

There’s so much emotion I don’t know where to put it. All I can do is hold her in my arms.

Paisley finally pulls away from the embrace. She tears at her thumbnail, staring fixedly at the ground, her lower lip wobbling. When I glance in the bathroom mirror over the vanity, I see a thin line of blood trickling down the back of her thigh and rage overtakes me, turning my vision bright white, my mind literally lost for long seconds until I gradually come back under control.

“Can I take off your jersey?”

Paisley pushes against me, suddenly finding her strength.

“I won’t hurt you, sweetheart. I just want to see where you’re bleeding.”

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