Page 6 of Knot Happening

The world seemed to shrink to the size of a pinprick, every atom in my body attuned to the officer's next words.The silence stretched between us, a taut wire humming with tension.

"We've apprehended a suspect," he continued, the weight of his words settling heavily in the air."It's your mother's boyfriend, Ronald Fischer.We found evidence linking him to the crime scene."

A red haze clouded my vision, my instincts roaring to the forefront.Ronald, the man who had charmed his way into my mother's life, the man she had trusted, the man who had betrayed that trust in the most heinous way imaginable.The monster had a name, and now, he had a face.

My voice was a controlled whisper, a dangerous calm that belied the storm raging within."Where is he?"

"He's in custody," Officer Daniels replied, his tone cautious.

Well, that wouldn't do.That wouldn't do at all.

six

HARLEN

I stood there,the echoes of my mother's laughter haunting the sterile air of the funeral home.The scent of antiseptic and death lingered, a familiar perfume that had once brought me solace in its predictability.But now, it was a grim reminder of the task at hand.Ronald Fischer lay sprawled on the steel table, his body restrained by the cold bite of handcuffs.His gaze, filled with a mixture of defiance and fear, met mine, and a sickening thrill coursed through my veins.

The waiting had been a test of my resolve, each passing moment a battle against the primal urges that clawed at my insides.But now, as I watched the life stir in his eyes, I could barely contain the dark glee that threatened to spill from my lips.

"You think you're a big man, don't you?"Ron's voice slithered through the air, a pathetic attempt at bravado."You don't have the balls to finish what you've started, boy."

A sneer twisted his lips, but I could smell the acrid stench of his fear, a pungent aroma that made my nostrils flare and my skin itch with anticipation.I couldn't help but release a soft chuckle, its delicate sound standing in juxtaposition to the violent storm raging within me.

"You see, Ron, I've been dreaming of this moment," I began, my voice steady and cold."I've been waiting for you to taste freedom, to savor it, only so I could snatch it away."I stepped closer, the alpha in me reveling in Ron’s mounting dread."My mother was a saint, a beacon of light in this cruel world, and you...you extinguished that light.But don't worry, I'm going to make sure you pay for every second of suffering you caused her."

The words hung between us, a promise of the retribution to come.I could feel the beast within me straining against its restraints, eager to unleash its fury upon the man who had dared to harm my mother.

I approached the table, my fists clenched at my sides.The first blow landed with a satisfying crunch, the impact reverberating up my arm.Ron's screams were music to my ears, a symphony of pain and terror that fueled my rage.I struck again and again, the sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh a grotesque ballet of vengeance.

Blood spattered across my face, a warm, crimson rain that invigorated my senses.I reveled in the destruction, each strike a testament to the love I held for my mother, a love that had been trampled under Ron's heinous acts.

The coppery tang of blood filled my nostrils, an intoxicating scent that seemed to call to the primal instincts buried deep within.Each splatter that hit my skin should have sent shivers of revulsion down my spine, should have triggered the compulsion to clean, to erase any trace of the chaos that surrounded me.But as I stood over Ron, his body a canvas of my retribution, I found a perverse satisfaction in the disorder.

With every punch, every kick, I felt a weight lifting from my chest.The constant pressure to maintain order, to keep the world around me spotless, vanished in the red haze of my rage.

The sound of flesh giving way beneath my knuckles was a melody that drowned out the whistling tune my mother used to sing often while I was growing up and had been playing on repeat inside of my head for days.Ron's face, once recognizable, now bore the marks of my fury—a swollen eye, a misshapen nose, lips split open to reveal the jagged edges of broken teeth.

I should have been disgusted by the sight before me.I should have recoiled from the wet warmth that soaked through my clothes, sticking them to my skin, but I didn't.Instead, I basked in the grim tableau, each mangled piece of Ron serving as a gruesome token of justice for my mother.This was not about cleanliness; this was about setting things right in a world that had tipped wildly off its axis.

The beast within me snarled in approval as I continued my onslaught.Ron's whimpers became increasingly distant, drowned out by the symphony of agony of his suffering.It was as if the very essence of my being was pouring out through my fists, an unstoppable torrent of aggression fueled by the purest form of anguish.

Eventually, the fog of rage began to lift, leaving me standing amidst the wreckage I had created.Ron was no longer recognizable as the man who had walked into my ma's life with charm and false promises.He was a broken, beaten mess.

I stepped back, my breaths heaving, my body covered in gore.A sense of calm washed over me as I took in the sight of Ron—my breath slowed, the storm in my chest calmed.The room fell silent, save for the drip-drip of blood hitting the polished concrete floor.Ron lay there, a broken, whimpering mess, his body a canvas of pain and suffering.

It was time for the next phase of his torment.

I moved to the corner of the room, where a monstrous machine stood waiting.The fuck machine, with its grotesque, alpha-sized sex toy, was a cruel instrument of violation, a tool that would serve as an unwelcome guest in Ron's most sensitive of places.I adjusted the settings, ensuring that the knot would provide him with a taste of his own medicine.

As the machine whirred to life, Ron's eyes widened in horror, his pleas for mercy drowned out by the relentless hum of the motor.I watched, detached, as the sex toy mercilessly plundered his ass, the knot forcing him to endure the same degradation he had inflicted upon my mother.

The whistling tune slipped from my lips, a haunting melody that weaves through the air, mingling with the scent of blood and the sound of Ron's screams.It took me a second to even recognize I was even humming, and once I did, I felt a soft smile tug at my lips.I stood at the counter, methodically preparing a cup of tea, the ritualistic motions calming me.

Each note that escaped me was a ghostly echo of my mother's voice, a lullaby that once soothed my childhood fears.Now, it served as a morbid soundtrack to my retribution, a reminder of the innocence that was stolen from us.The tea kettle whistled, a shrill cry that harmonized with the lullaby, and I poured the steaming water over the tea bag, watching as the liquid turned a deep, comforting shade of amber.

I cradled the cup in my hands, the warmth seeped into my skin, a fleeting comfort against the chill of the room.The whistling stopped as I took a sip, the bitter taste grounding me, anchoring me to the present moment.I carried the cup with me as I walked back to where Ron was restrained.

The fuck machine continued its relentless assault, the wet slap of its movements a grotesque percussion to the fading strains of the lullaby.Ron's eyes met mine, filled with a mixture of hatred and despair.I took another sip of my tea, my gaze never leaving his.

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