Page 86 of I'm Watching You

Bloodshot eyes focused on the Guardian. Confusion gave way to anger. Saunders jerked at his restraints.

The Guardian was pleased. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Not until you’ve learned a few lessons.’

Saunders kicked his legs, trying to loosen the ropes. They didn’t budge. He screamed into his gag.

‘You’re a fighter. I like that.’ The Guardian grabbed a black bag. ‘Harold Turner caved when I cornered him. He cried like a baby. You aren’t going to cry are you, Mr Saunders?’

Saunders’s eyes narrowed.

‘Good. I don’t like criers.’

From the black bag came the machete. The shiny blade reflected the dim lamplight. ‘You know what this is? It’s the blade I used to cut Harold’s hand off.’

Saunders swallowed. His fingers clenched into tight fists.

The Guardian traced the flat side of the blade over the man’s left wrist. ‘Are you afraid?’

Defiant, Saunders clamped down on his gag. But the Guardian saw the sweat beading on his upper lip.

‘Fear is an uncomfortable feeling, isn’t it, Mr Saunders?’

When he didn’t budge, the Guardian traced the sharp blade over Saunders’s wrist. This time bravado gave way to terror.

‘Fear is what Gail lives with every day. You put that fear inside her. Didn’t you?’

Saunders stared, his eyes wide as he shook his head ‘no.’

‘You enjoyed seeing her afraid. You enjoyed knowing you had total power over her life.’ When Saunders didn’t answer, the Guardian drew the blade over the inside of his arm, splitting the skin and spilling blood.

Saunders groaned as the pain burned.

‘Did you enjoy hurting your wife?’

He nodded.

‘And now you will be punished.’

Saunders strained at his bindings. He screamed, the sound swallowed by the gag.

‘I shot Harold first and then took my trophy. But this time …’

Saunders’s muffled screams filled the room as the Guardian raised the machete high. In one clean chop, he brought it down and severed Saunders’s left hand from his wrist. Blood splattered.

Saunders’s eyes rolled back in his head and he pissed on himself. He screamed through the gag. The thick scent of urine filled the air as the coppery blood drained out of the stump on his left arm and pooled on the basement floor.

Energy surged through the Guardian as life seeped from Saunders’s body. Nothing had ever felt sweeter.

‘You should be feeling some relief now. Your sins have been cleansed with your own blood.’

Saunders’s body began to shake. He was going into shock.

The Guardian watched, anticipating a river of blood. He expected Saunders to bleed out in minutes, but as the minutes ticked by, the blood flow began to slow. Ten minutes later the blood flow was little more than a trickle. Saunders was still breathing.

‘Damn.’ The arteries had sealed. ‘You’re a tough old bastard. Foolish to think I could destroy evil so easily.’

Undeterred, the Guardian grabbed a knife from the workbench and sliced through the femoral artery in Saunders’s leg. Saunders screamed. And this time the blood did flow. Saunders was dead in five minutes.

The Guardian hovered, mesmerized by the sight of Death, and with trembling hands combed Saunders’s hair until it was smooth. ‘There are so many more to kill.’

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