Page 185 of Rage

“Was I the only one?” I ask him while pulling the knife from his thigh, earning a guttural scream from him. I stand, throwing my fist into his jaw, blood splattering against the white wall. I make a mental note to thank Coach Matthew for all the boxing lessons and consistency.

“Yes. No… I don’t know,” he says between coughing fits.

“You don’t fucking know?” I ask, throwing another satisfying punch to his face.

“Ross and I do it frequently, but…”

The room begins to spin.My fiancé is taking advantage of other women.Ross hasn’t made a move towards me in months, but he has no problem taking advantage of unconscious women?

“Who else was there that night?” I ask, while staring at the blood splattered on the wall. It’s crimson red, a dark contrast to the bright white paint. Brian coughs before answering, and I can tell he’s stalling. “I-I’m not sure. There were a few of us in the room, but I didn’t know all of them.”

My head snaps back to look at him.A few.My fiancé let his friends defile me, and then carried on about his life like I was made to serve them. I begin to tremble violently as a single tear falls from my eye. I dart my tongue out to catch it, quickly wiping it away as I vow it to be the last time any of these fuckers get a rise out of me.

“Mavis, I’m sorry. I really am. If you let – “

I didn’t want to hear the rest of his sentence. And quite frankly, I didn’t want to hear him breathing anymore.

The visual of the blade slicing across his throat was pure bliss.

His gurgles were the icing on the cake as I watched him struggle for air.

Untying my robe, showcasing the pink silk nightgown I threw on this morning, I straddle his lap. My gaze bores into his brown eyes as I watch the life slowly fading away. I laugh as he struggles at the hand of a woman much smaller than him while I dig my hand into his hair.

I lean in closer to his face. “Letting you walk out of here to defile other women would be helping the fucking patriarchy you’re so proudly devoted to. Unfortunately for you, the oldMavis is dead,” I hiss between clenched teeth, and plunge the blade into his chest with my other hand.

Drowsily, I climb from his lap and Z reaches out to steady me.

I glance down at my clothes and robe on the floor, all covered in Brian’s blood, before looking back up at Z. Shock washes over me as I realize what I’ve done, but there are no tears. No sobbing, nor any panicked feelings consuming me.

“How do you feel?” Z asks from behind his mask.

I glance around the room and back at the dead body strapped to the chair in my house. I should feel like a murderer. I should feel like a horrible person for taking the life of a man I’ve known for years.A man that used me while I was unconscious. But I don’t feel an ounce of regret. A small chuckle escapes me as I brush my cheek, smearing blood as I look into the mirror hanging on the wall.

“Alive,” I answer as Z moves to stand behind me. Wrapping his arms around my torso, he rests his chin on my shoulder. His smell is so intoxicating that I want to beg him to fuck me right here, right now, without even knowing what he looks like. “You ready, Dutchess?” he asks, tightening his grip on me for a second before releasing me.

I know what he’s insinuating. The thought of it has my body engulfed in flames of rage and revenge. I nod my head as I turn to face him, taking note of the massive amounts of blood still pouring from Brian.

I glance down at my feet, wet from the deep red fluid that has now made its way over to us. I follow the trail from the chair and back to my feet.

A river of red, from my own hand.

Not an ounce of regret passes through me as I lean my head back to look at the masked man that provided the fuel to myhidden fire. The determination that now blooms throughout has me speaking my next words clearly and confidently.

“Let’s burn it all to the fucking ground.”

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