Page 29 of Be My Sacrifice

Abe fists the back of his father’s head, forcing Peter’s neck to an odd and painful angle. “I am nothing like you, old man.”

“Keep telling yourself that, boy. Your body count isn’t as high as mine, only because you haven’t lived as long.”

“ENOUGH!” I shout and get up, slipping a large blade from the sheath on my thigh. “Force him to stand, and we will see if he has anything to say after I cut off the weapon he used against women who could not fight back.”

“Nooooo.” Peter tries to fight off Abe, and one of the others, as they grip and force him to his knees, and his limp dick hangs between his legs.Pathetic.I can guarantee that Abe didn’t get his size from his malignant father. The thought almost makes a chuckle leave my lips, but I swallow it at the last moment.Get it together, bitch,none of this is funny, my mind admonishes me.

“No, Dinah. I would like the privilege of cutting that vile appendage off of him. I have suffered and endured more than anyone at his hands.” Sarah moves forward, her palm up for the blade as she keeps her eyes firmly on her husband.

My lips quirk at her request, my eyes rising to meet Abe’s, and at his nod, I place the blade in her hand. Sarah moves steadily forward, her back rigid and her head held high, a savage queen about to avenge herself from a lifetime of pain against her oppressor.

“Where is Gabriel’s son?” I question.

“Fuck you!”

Sarah strikes forward, sinking the blade into the apex of Peter’s thigh before pulling back. “Answer her questions, Peter, or you will find yourself looking like Swiss cheese.”

“Are Ezekiel and Sammy being held in Noah’s estate?” I cross my ankles, ready and waiting to see how much damage Sarah will inflict on him.

“Fuuu…” He doesn’t even get to finish the word, before Sarah thrusts the blade into the opposite side of his groin. She leans forward, her face close to his. “I’ve waited years, Peter. Years to make you feel an inkling of what you have made me feel.”

“Slice his wrists, Sarah, then one of you loosely bind them, so he can feel his blood slowly trickling out of him,” I instruct as Abe forces his father’s arms up, and his mother complies with my request with a gleeful smile across her face. A hoarse cry tears from his mouth, as again he’s tended to.

Shit, this is starting to get messy, but we are already having so much fun. I wonder how long it will take him to bleed to death with the wounds Sarah is actively inflicting? I should tell her to slow down, but I wouldn’t want to restrict her fun; she’s earned it.

My eyes narrow on the trembling maid, who is hiding her face in the chest of one of the rebel soldiers. “Come here, girl.” I motion to her to come to my side, and she does so on shaking limbs. “Was today the first time he has hurt you?” She shakes her head no, tears sliding their way across her battered face. She’s so young, younger than me, barely out of her teens, and look at what she has already suffered at the hands of the Order.

“Slice all of his fingers off except his middle one on each hand, and force them down his throat. He used them to abuse her, and so he shall pay for his trespasses.”

Abe and Sarah get to work, slicing and dicing, and cauterizing the wounds with a lighter. Then, one of the rebels holds Peter’s face firmly in between his massive palms while Abe uses his fingers to plug his nostrils, and Sarah forces each finger down his throat. Peter gags after each one, threatening to throw them back up, but we can’t have that.

“Where is Noah holding them prisoner?” I move to Sarah’s side and clench my hand around Peter’s neck, squeezing until his breath falters. “I can end this, Peter; all you need to do is tell me what I want to know.”

His dark, pain-filled eyes sightlessly meet mine, but the only sounds that make their way out of his mouth are mumbled cries of despair. He will go into shock soon, and then he will be useless to me. Time to speed up our games. “Cut off his left ear. I don’t think he’s taking us seriously.” Behind me, sounds of retching greet my ears, and I glimpse the maid hunched over and emptying the contents of her stomach. She will have to learn to toughen up if she plans to survive this cruel world.

Peter’s scream brings my attention back towards him, as Sarah discards the flesh and cartilage of his ear on the ground at her feet. “Please… please, mercy… the boy is in the country.”

“Where in the country?” I nod towards his other ear, and Sarah grabs hold of his lobe, preparing herself to slice through it. Her hands are steady and sure of her task.

“Fa… rm… farm where he used… to keep… racing horses,” he gasps. Abe meets my gaze.

“I know where that is; Zeke and I went there a few times years ago, before Noah stopped breeding the race horses. It’s two hours outside of the city.”

“And Zeke and Sammy’s whereabouts?” My body trembles with suppressed energy, and the need to hurt this man who has done so much damage to the women that I loved, and so many other countless ones, like the poor girl who can’t even look in his direction.

“Estate, locked… under key.”

I nod at Sarah, and a maniacal, deranged look crosses her face as she plunges the blade repeatedly into his chest, neck, and stomach. Each hit lands with a sickening sound as he hollers in pain, and blood arcs, covering her face, neck, and body, until she is coated in liquid red. I watch her with joy as she takes her pound of flesh and then some, processing her rage, and getting revenge on the man who has abused her all these years.

When she goes to grab onto his cock, I touch her shoulder. “Clean, make it clean so we can place it into his mouth, as a warning to the Brotherhood. That is a signature of theUnholy Ghost.”

She takes her time, enjoying her work, severing the body part that has caused her the most pain over the years, to my amusement, but to the discomforted groans of the other men in the room. A rattling noise leaves Peter’s chest, and just as the light is dimming from his eyes, Sarah leans forward and spits in his face. “Rot in hell, bastard, your disgusting friends will join you soon.”

Once he’s taken his last breath, I get to work, much to Abe’s entertainment, as he helps me position the bloody body against one of the walls, using two of my smaller sheathed blades to pin Peter to it by his wrists. A shot rings out, and I turn to see the other male slumping forward as Sarah takes his life.Crap. I had forgotten he was even in the room anymore, with all the excitement. Good thing Sarah seems to be bloodthirsty at the moment.

“Give me the knife, Sarah.” I raise my hand, and she places it into my waiting palm. I get to work, slicing off one of Peter’s middle fingers and using it as a makeshift pen to write my message in his blood.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I am dramatic as fuck, but how else will I ensure that the remaining members of the Brotherhood have nightmares when they hear what befell Peter? I start my writing, using Peter’s blood as the ink.

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