Page 65 of Dead By Dusk

“Mercy…I want to see you beg for it first,” I reply while moving to stand and walking around the spacious area of his office. Scanning the area, I pluck random objects from their spots. A stapler, pocketknife, some pens, and my axe from where it lodged into the wall.

“I hate to inform you that this will be quite unsatisfactory for you then. I don’t beg anyone for anything,” he replies as he tracks my every movement. With pallid skin and sweat beading at his forehead, I know I need to begin now before his death ruins the punishment he should suffer.

“Oh, but you will,” I singsong in response as I set everything out in front of me and pretend to take my time choosing how I would like this to play out. I brush the pads of my fingers against a dagger before moving back to the stapler and taking it into my grip. Walking toward his body, I enjoy the way he tries to back away before a wall stops his retreat.

“Now, now, stop trying to run away from this,” I start as I crouch down to his level and gaze at him. I release a deep sigh before reaching toward his face, but his free hand comes to stopme. Swiftly, I grab his wrist and twist his arm as far as I can. His deep grunt that follows, is almost as satisfying as the small cry he releases when I crush his hand beneath my foot, pinning him in place. “Oh, come on now, Robert. Don’t be such a bitch. Sit back, and enjoy the show,” I say as I go back to my original task of stapling his eyelids open. “I know how much you love a good show.”

His cries and whimpers last longer than I’d hoped as I skin back layers and layers of his arms.

“Do you want mercy yet?” I ask, staring into his cold eyes, but he shakes his head no. Even as snot falls from his nose—as blood, sweat and tears drip from everywhere on his body, he still refuses to beg. “What a pity,” I murmur as I tighten my hold on my dagger and force it into his wrist and twist the blade over and over again.

Muscles, tendons, and veins are ruined from the action, but so is his ability to fight back.

“Mercy?” I question, once again.

“No,” he grits out, but his voice is much weaker. His surety, wavering.

“Hmmm, as you wish.” Then I’m grabbing a pen and forcing it into one of his ears. He screams, loud and alive once again, as he attempts to bring his hand up to his head, but it’s just another painful reminder of how useless I have rendered him. “I shall ask you one last time. That’s it, Robert. How you live or die will be determined by this decision that you make. Mercy? Beg and die a basic human being, or say no and keep being treated like the monster that you are.”

His steely eyes carry so much all-consuming rage, but his body tells a different story. Torn to shreds, bruised and battered, I see the desire for everything to end.

“Please,” he forces the word out like it pains him more than anything else. One single syllable, and he spit it out like venomon his tongue. I lean forward, to the ear I know still works to say one last thing to him.

“I just don’t believe you mean it,” I whisper as I bring my hand up to his skinless shoulder and pat at the disgustingly wet and sticky blood that covers the area and squeeze, relishing the way his sob breaks through. And no matter what I do to him from that point on, I don’t listen to his cries. I just continue, the same we they had done to Ronan.

I reduce him to nothing more than the embodiment of agonizing misery. And soon, everything he is will be reduced to what he always tried to run from becoming.

Weak. Coward. Nothing.

* * *

Blood covers the entire length of my body as I walk to the medical wing. When I arrive, I’m surprised to find him stitching together some of the deeper wounds on Ronan’s body. Ronan is clean of excess blood as Adonis tended to most of the inflicted damage.

“I’m almost done with all that can be fixed,” he states as his gaze flits to my body. “You should probably clean yourself up.”

I release a grunt in agreement as I walk to the large sink against the back wall and scrub my hands clean before moving up to the rest of my arms. I note all the bruises that pepper my skin, as well as some smaller scratches I’ve accumulated. Then I’m splashing water onto my face, relishing how clean it feels as I watch red and pink swirl in the sink before disappearing down the drain.

Dragging my tired body to the station where Adonis is working, I grab a spare needle and thread, as well as rubbingalcohol and as much tissue as can be spared. I don’t hear a word or receive any odd looks as I slink into a chair across the room and untie the makeshift bandage I’d made for myself and douse the cut in alcohol.

Once I know it’s completely clean, I clench my jaw, preparing for the sting that will follow as I insert the needle. Using the curve of the needle, I pass the suture through the entrance of the wound before pulling the edges of the cut together and loop it through either side of my skin. Each time, I tie knots at the end of the process, ensuring that the wound stays closed as tears well in my eyes. Soon after, Adonis rises to his feet, all but carrying Ronan on his uninjured side.

“Get to the garage. The largest vehicle you can find. I have something I need to do first,” I state, as I watch the last golden and orange rays of light flitter in from the windows. Two things, actually, I think to myself.

He watches me, hesitant to leave me behind, but ultimately gives in to my request as he stumbles away. I then turn and walk to the study I had woken in. My eyes immediately narrow on the box in the middle of the room as I walk over to it and begin to push. The wheels squeak with every foot of distance I close, and when I make it to the door that will lead us out, I find it already open—Adonis looking around mindlessly at the choices he has while Ronan’s body is slumped in a chair.

When he sees me with the box though, his features soften, even if only for a minute before walking over to where I stand, and cradling her into his arms. Even with the tension coiling in his body, begging him to take it easy, he walks confidently to a van. He sets her down long enough to open the hatch and gather a tarp that lay discarded on the ground before laying it down on the carpeted area of the trunk. He picks her up again, setting her body on top, before covering her with the rest of the tarp.

It’s then that I grab a full gas can, turn away and continue, ignoring the way Adonis yells after me.

I stalk through every room of the estate, laying trails of paper everywhere that can be found. I leave small streams of gas here and there—not too much to run out too soon, but just enough to ensure fire catches everywhere. The bedrooms, offices, dining hall, study, and even the library. As I go to leave, I notice the worn book sitting on the bench next to one of the windows where Carmen always loved to read.

Without thinking, I grab it, shoving it into one of my pockets, and then walk through the length of the house. Once I’m halfway to the garage, I pull out the old lighter I’d found at the old house and light it, watching as small flames catch here and there.

Everything must burn.I think to myself one last time as I quickly make my way through the last hall.Everything he has done, must burn.

It’s my last thought before I make it to the garage and hop in the backseat, keeping a watchful eye on Ronan. I lay his head in my lap and feel the way his pulse thrums beneath my fingertips, a heavenly beat my heart echoes as I look out the window. I watch darkness descend upon us. With every mile through forests, forgotten memories whisper stories of the past in my ears. I relive the tales of lost loves—the ghosts of friends that had occupied the space around us only a week ago. Friends that are now held in the arms of death herself, only residing in the house of wishes created from the despairing truth that they no longer live, while we do.

“Did you read the note?” Ronan’s groggy and pained voice interrupts the trance I’d fallen into while staring at the passing trees as I meet his stormy gaze. He forces his eyes shut with furrowed brows and tensed muscles before bringing his hand to hold the one I have rested against his chest.

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