Page 18 of Under Your Care

My plan was all moving forward at a speed I had not expected. I had to be patient - I’d have Lane wrapped around me soon enough.

In the meantime, I could take some of my darker urges out on this scum.

“Ahhhhhhhh! Fuck - What the FUCK!” Aforementioned scum had finally become conscious. Due to his thrashing, he was what I would imagine a human-sized pendulum would look like. Tate continued his screaming until he locked eyes with me.

So many emotions in that tiny brain of his - imagine my surprise. Fear gave way to confusion which in turn became desperation.

“I don’t know what’s going on, man, but just tell me what you want and we’ll both walk away,” Tate blubbered, snot and tears covering his unpleasant face.

I calmly crossed my legs at the ankle, a kilowatt smile lighting up my face.

“Please, man. Please! Drugs, money, what’s your poison?” He sniveled. I wasn’t sure if he clocked the designer suit I was wearing, but money was certainly not something I needed. I happily sighed, anticipating the day when I could begin spoiling my Lane with the best.

I’d already started collecting, of course - I wanted Lane to be showered with gifts once it was time for him to move into his new home.

Tate continued his begging, offering me anything I could think of. I rolled my eyes and removed the handgun from my waist, lightly tapping it against my raised knee. There we go - he finally closed his mouth!

“Do I genuinely look so awful that I’d need bribes from a middle-aged liquor store cashier? One that’s stark naked and hanging from ceiling beams?” I politely asked, continuing the tapping of my gun.

His eyes remained glued to the weapon, even as I stood.

He sobbed, choking on his pleas, “Please, please, please– I don’t want to die! Why are you doing this?”

I brought a confused look to my face, tilting my head slightly. “Why are you being so dramatic?”

I stalked closer to him, gently shoving him so that the swaying of his body could continue to entertain me. His face blanched.

He shakily asked, “What is this, man? This a hit? You’ve got the wrong guy! I ain’t done nothing wrong!”

I smirked and shook my head in amusement. “No, I’m doing this as a sort of engagement present, per se. My fiance is an… acquaintance of yours.”

“If your fiance cheated on you, that’s not on me, man,” he whined.

“Guess again,” I smiled, pondering whether or not Lane would appreciate a trophy - probably not.

“Fuck!” He yelled, wriggling in his binds not unlike a worm on a fishing hook. Worms are beneficial to the ecosystem though. Tate certainly isn’t.

“Alright, I’ll give you a hint. You raped him.” His face drew up in confusion.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” he muttered, causing my brow to slightly raise. I suppose that’s not too much of a surprise.

“Lane Bennett,” I sang.

His face changed into one of disgust. “That whore put you up to this?” He sneered, “He wanted everything we ever did to him– fucking jailbait.”

My jaw clenched, I retorted, “Ah, yes, because middle school children can consent to incestual sexual abuse. Of course– how dreadfully silly of me.” I raised my gun and fired a single shot into his left foot. Feeling calmer now that he was bleeding, I continued, “I will be keeping you alive for the two years in which you were abusing him. And no, he doesn’t know about this yet.”

“He doesn’t know you’re a fucking psychopath? What two years? You can’t fucking do this, man. I just wanted to have some fun. He wanted it,” he spat, his words causing me to heartily laugh.

I smiled as I said, “Seeing how I’m not a psychopath, no, he doesn’t know that. I’m a dark empath. Quite different. And if you say one more fucking time that he wanted it, I’m going to skin you alive.”

“What the fuck! You’re fucking insane! FUCK. I doubt he’s going to marry you when you’re going around murdering people!” He yelled through his teeth, the pain from the gunshot registering.

I casually shrugged, rolling my eyes as I had to spell everything out to him, “I’m not murdering you. Yet. I’ll keep you alive for the next two years– symbolism is romantic, don’t you think? During that time, I’ll be subjecting you to severe physical and psychological torture. Then, I’ll kill you.”

His eyes widened almost comically wide as he began screaming and thrashing again in earnest.

Realistically, two years was a long time to sustain a dying man for. I still would have stuck it out, just to be able to see Lane’s awestruck face when I revealed it all, but Tate was proving to be such a headache. The thought is what counts, right?

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