Page 7 of Run

A perfect little accident.

The blood on his rear end rubs off on my pants as I straddle him, leaning over his body, grabbing his hair, tilting his head upwards so his face is on full view of the audience just beyond the glass. Looking out amongst the crowd, I give a sly little wink and adjust the splintered tool in my grip.

“This…” I say loudly enough that everyone watching can hear. “This is what happens when you break the rules. Let his transgressions be a warning to you all.”

I can feel his Adam’s apple bob under the tip of the cane as he swallows thickly in his blubbering sobs. Tears flow freely from the corners of his eyes, dripping on my hand as I draw the jagged edge across his throat, pressing down hard, cutting the stretched skin open like an old rusty can opener tearing into an aluminum can.

It's not a smooth cut, and I have to really push hard to get the wood to separate the skin, but when it breaks through and the blood flows like a waterfall from his severed arteries, I shudder in a lustful appreciation of the messy kill.

His body lurches under me, his torso bucking between my thighs as I squeeze him tightly, keeping him still. His mouth gurgles with raspy bubbles that pop like crimson bathwater and his life escapes him through the cavernous gash across his neck. It’s beautiful watching him finally succumb to me and to death, his head growing heavy in my hand, pulling his hair more taut. He falls silent to the gasps and whispered comments from the members watching, and the slow shaking of Samantha’s head.

I throw her a wink just before she turns and pushes her way through the crowd, leaving me to handle the mess I’ve made by myself, obvious to me that she’s not amused with my antics.

Fuck it. She’s not ruining my fun.

As the crowd departs from their view, and the corpse between my legs slumps like a sack of bricks against the sawhorse, small whimpering sounds break through the new silence. They’re cries of pain and agony that tear at the charred organ in my chest and pull me from my post murder euphoria.

“Shhh Princess.” I say quietly as I leave the bastard where he is, dropping his head with a squishing sound as it falls forward. “I’m here.” I add as I step slowly towards her.

Her back is still facing out, and her face is huddled under her arms, blocking her view of the dead man hanging lifelessly over the river of blood that’s spreading across the floor. I want to take her and turn her so she can see that her abuse has been rectified, but at the same time I want to protect her from the sight of what I’ve done. Fear of me will get us nowhere, and with her, I want to go somewhere, I just don’t know where yet.

The couch dips under my weight as I sit down behind her, softly placing my hand on her shoulder. She jerks at my touch,and her body stiffens, but she doesn’t fight. I don’t think she has it in her.

“It’s okay my little flower. It’s all over.” I say to her as I trace small circles on her bare skin. “I’m going to get you cleaned up and dressed. Don’t struggle, you’ll only hurt yourself. Okay?”

There’s no words from her mouth, but her body relaxes, and her head nods slowly. I can hear her breaths all choppy and pained, but she allows me to gingerly roll her over onto her stomach, taking any weight off her still seeping wounds.

I make quick work of washing her up and dressing her wounds with the supplies from the cabinet in the rear of the fully stocked playroom. She’s a good girl, staying still and letting me move her where I need her to be for each swipe of the washrag and placement of the bandages.

Not once does she look up at me, or make any attempt to identify me, but I can tell she knows I’m not the man who did this to her. I can feel a trust in her towards me that makes me laugh quietly to myself as I cover her nakedness with her skimpy little silver dress and slip her satiny thong into my front pants pocket.

I’m the last person anyone should trust, princess.

“I’m going to take you home, sweet Lily.” I whisper to her as I scoop her up in my arms.

She’s so light, and curls into my chest as I lift her, burying her face in my shirt with her little hands grabbing the cotton and balling it up in her grasp. Little whimpers escape her as I walk us out of the room, down the hall, and into the foyer where other members scurry to get out of my way. After what they just witnessed, no one is going to stop me from taking her from here.

The valet has my car running and waiting at the front door as I take us out into the chilly evening. The engine purrs and the door swings shut with a quiet click after I settle her into the seat and put her seatbelt on. She tried to hold onto me as I pulled away, but I gently peeled her hands from my shirt and smoothed down her crazy red hair to calm her.

“It’s okay. I’m right here, but you can’t hold onto me as I drive baby.” I soothe her through the car window before jogging into the pouring rain to my side.

Her purse falls to the floor of the car at her feet, making her jump as I take off into the night, and a gentle hand placed on her thigh calms her right away.

“Who are you?” She asks, her face turned away from me, her forehead leaning against the sill of the door.

“Just someone who cares, even though he shouldn’t.” I sigh, patting her leg and pulling my hand away before I give in to the urges to touch her more.

Again, something you never do.

The rest of the drive to her place is quiet, the stillness of inside the car only filled with sound when I bump a pothole in the road, and she groans a low noise at the discomfort.

“Sorry princess.”

“I’m not a princess, I’m the farthest thing from it.” She moans, snuggling herself closer to the door, her back to me and my still masked face. “I mean look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“And you see a whore, right?”

---