Page 101 of Forever Fake

Relief. That’s my initial feeling. If Oliver’s here, tied down, then he can’t hurt anyone.

I lick my suddenly dry lips. “H-how long have you had him here?”

“Three days. It took my people longer than expected to find him, but they did, they always do. I was going to take care of him myself, but then I thought that you might want to do this together. Was I right?”

I give his question some serious consideration. Do I want to be down here? Do I want to have a hand in Oliver’s fate?

He raped me.

He murdered my father.

He shot Blake.

“Yes, you were right.” My voice comes out surprisingly steady. I fidget with the magpie pin in my pocket, its meaning has become crystal clear. My ex dies today.

“Good.” Blake revives Oliver with smelling salts.

He jerks awake, an animalistic cry tears from his throat, but no words.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, my gaze traveling to all the stab wounds I inflicted on him at my parents’ house.

“I cut out his tongue. He didn’t have anything nice to say, and honestly, I was tired of hearing his voice.”

Oh.

“So, how would you like to end this?” Blake gestures toward a rolling cart fully stocked with what I’m assuming are torture instruments. “We can do it slowly, over the course of a week if he has a strong constitution. Or it can be quick: a bullet in the head or a knife to his throat. You call the shots, magpie.”

I’ve fantasized about vengeance, about what I would do if I was in a position of power to do something, for so long that this feels like a dream. If I can really have anything right now, then it’s the fantasy that I’ve spent the most time imagining.

“Can you… can you cut off his dick and have him choke on it?”Ew.That sounds terrible to say aloud. But when Ithink about everything Oliver did to me, of how frightening and painful… How I felt all alone and had no one to turn to afterwards. He deserves to burn in hell for all of eternity. I guess my job is to send him there.

“If that’s what you want, then it will be done.” Blake slides on a pair of plastic gloves.

Oliver screams, his eyes wide and pleading. I’m not sure why he thinks I’d be merciful, not after everything he’s done. Maybe to him it was all a game, but to me… to me it was my life, my body, my psyche. Things that clearly mean nothing to him.

“That’s what I want,” I clearly state. “I want to watch the spark leave his eyes. Send him to hell.”

Blake picks up a knife and a pair of tongs, then takes a blow torch and heats up the metal blade. He approaches a shaking, incoherently blathering Oliver, whose expression shifts from terrified to outraged. The rank scent of urine permeates the air and I realize he’s pissed himself.

Not such a big tough guy now, are you?

Luckily, Oliver’s a shower, not a grower. Blake pinches the end with his tongs and pulls Oliver’s dick up and out, leaving enough clearance for his slashing, glowing hot knife. He quickly severs the thing. Surprisingly, Oliver manages to only pass out for a moment, then he’s screaming again. The deafening sound echoes through the space.

The sound cuts off abruptly when Blake shoves the dick into Oliver’s open mouth. Using the tongs, he shoves it down his throat, cutting off his airway.

Oliver’s eyes bulge, his skin reddens, then purples, and his body convulses. For the first time in his life, I think he’s experiencing true terror. Too bad it will be relatively short-lived. I could have Blake take it out before he dies, and then subject him to this all over again.

But I’ve wasted enough time and energy on this monster. I'm done.

Standing there, I watch as the light leaves Oliver’s eyes, feeling no remorse. No guilt or even pity.

All I feel is avenged.

CHAPTER 49

Blake

“Are you sure you’re okay to fly?” Gin’s been an angel, taking care of me for far too long. It’s time for us to have a break, a vacation, and get away from the routine we’ve fallen into.

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