Page 54 of Moth to a Flame

A second punch cracks the bone beneath his cheek, and he turns quiet.

His eyes slide to the front door of his home. It’s just there, a few feet after the living room. Freedom is within his reach.

Like hell it is.

I grip his chin, yanking his face so he looks at me. “Don’t waste your energy, Tripp. No one’s coming. No one’s saving you.”

Senseless mumbling ensues.

So does my wrath.

Tripp’s message to Regan will not leave my head.

I’ll drown your mouth in bleach. That’s my rape fantasy, and you’re going to give it to me. You’ll let me damage you beyond repair.

Motherfucker. I lift his head, slamming it into the tarp.

The nauseating cracking sound and Tripp’s muted scream are a reprieve.

I could do better. I will do better.

“Now that I have your attention.” I sneer. “We need to discuss Bobby.”

He frowns. That’s cute, trying to trick me into thinking I got the wrong house.

“Yes, him. Your brother. The felon. Who’s incarcerated in Brinestone.” Each word is spoken slowly. Emphatically. “You’re going to call him now, and you’re going to tell him I’m dropping by to visit him tomorrow. Don’t forget to mention that if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll add me to his list of visitors.”

Tripp drops the innocent act, shaking his head.

“Got it.” My pocket knife is on the tarp one second, in my hand the next. The blade shines under the expensive overhead lights. “The hard way it is. Not a problem.” I lean over to grab his foot. “Not a problem whatso-fucking-ever.”

“Mmmm!” His pathetic kicking attempts are just that. Pathetic. They get him nowhere with his bound ankles. “Mmmm!”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ll make the call?” Thank fuck for my gloves. Otherwise, it would’ve been nasty business, grabbing his toe with my bare hands.

The minute I noticed the unique oval-shaped birthmark on it, the decision was made.

His brother will need some convincing to do the task I have for him.

If the carrot won’t work…

There’s always the stick.

“Mmmm!” Tripp nods his head, sincemmmm!obviously doesn’t mean shit.

“That’s good. That’s better.” Too easily, I flip his body, pinning his toe to the tarp. He keeps screaming. I start cutting. “Unfortunately, I need that toe.”

I start slicing into his flesh, driving the blade of my pocket knife as far as it’d go.See-saw, see-saw.

I’m not actually sawing it off. A saw would’ve been the wrong tool to handle this. This way, I’m savoring it.

Damn, I can’t believe how much I’ve missed when I avoided the good things in life. Abstinence is definitely not for me.

Tripp doesn’t share the sentiment. His screams go on and on and fucking on. They don’t stop once I remove his toe. If anything, he screams louder when I drop it in a pack full of ice that I got from his freezer.

Then I flip him on his back again.

Fueled by revenge and righteousness—and those images of Regan’s mouth being burned from bleach—I dangle his phone in his face.

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