Page 77 of Twice as Twisted

“I hope that decision doesn’t become the greatest regret of your life.”

I walk away without letting him apologize further. If he was really sorry, he wouldn’t have given her a weapon, knowing it would leave me defenseless. If this goes wrong, that’s the decision that will haunt him until the day he dies.

But like he said, there are plenty of other ways to kill. A bullet might be the most efficient, but it’s the least fun. And this isn’t my first hunt. I hunted Mabel Darling.

For months, from my computer, before I even left Faulkner. I hunted her, and I waited. I lost sleep, lost days, lost myself in webs and dark webs and dark thoughts. I went to places so dark even Duke can’t fathom. And when I found her, I told him.

I could have kept the information, but it wasn’t mine. It was ours. She was always ours.

So I shared it.

And when I went to find her last December, I could have contacted her. I could have taken her for myself. Instead, I waited again. I waited, and I watched, and it nearly fucking killed me seeing her with those men. Each time she logged on and found a new one, thinking she was invisible, I was watching. I was watching, and fucking dying when she went to meet them. She was putting herself in danger, but I couldn’t intervene. She was letting them touch her, but I couldn’t do the same.

I held back every fucking time, not just because I knew they would die for the sin of touching her, but because she wasn’t mine.

She wasours.

Jane is not ours. She’s mine. Sparing her wasn’t Duke’s decision to make.

It’s mine.

It’s only right that I kill her. I gave Duke the task, but I suspected he would fail, even hoped for it. That’s why I came out here. Not just to confirm her death, but to have the chance to do it myself if he didn’t. I could have made him stay and watch. He would have done it, out of guilt and some form of self-flagellation. But this is my chance, the chance I’ve been waiting for. The chance to take a life, one that has been mine for some time. It is my right to decide when it ends.

I want to watch it drain from her eyes while I cum. I want to feel my power as I take that one thing that no man has a right to take—life. When her life becomes truly mine, when it cannot be taken back, I will become a god.

So, when Duke is gone, I take out my phone, and I check her location. I inserted a tracker into her after the first time she ran, though she never got far. She hasn’t gone far thistime, either, just a few minutes down the hill, back towards our place. She probably misses me, craves the constancy I provided, twisted as it was. She’s broken, her mind so warped that she’ll return to her captor rather than brave the unknown, the challenges of life on her own. She doesn’t know how to live without me anymore.

That thought pleases me.

Unfortunately for her, I can’t take her back. Not if I want Mabel.

So I follow my living dead girl through the woods, down the hill, back towards the road. I hear the soft rush of tires on the pavement, the near silence of the car letting me know it’s mine, that Duke is obeying my order.

I check my screen, for one moment jolted by the thought that they planned this, anticipated my interference, and that he’ll stop and pick her up.

But whatever her plan, I intend to put an end to it. Before she can reach the road, I catch a glimpse of her through the trees, creeping along like a spider, her skinny limbs swallowed by an oversized hoodie I recognize as Duke’s.

I shake my head in disgust and quicken my pace. Jane glances back over her shoulder, then hurries a little faster. Chuckling under my breath, I match her pace, watching her through the trees. I’ve almost closed the distance between us when she starts to run, a lurching, wobbly attempt that’s so pathetic I find myself laughing aloud, if only to heighten her fear. The sound is chilling in the night, combined with the wail of the pines overhead. A hiccup of terror escapes her, and she trips. A keening, hopeless wail echoes through the trees as she hits the ground.

I stand over her, watching her sob and shake like a beaten dog.

“You’re so pathetic it’s not even fun anymore,” I say, bending to roll her over.

The gun comes up so fast I barely register it, instinct alone making me flinch backwards just as the shot goes off. It echoes through the forest, so close it sends my heartbeat into overdrive, adrenaline surging through me. I wrench the gun from her hand and clock her in the face. Blood spurts from her nose, and she thrashes under me, flailing blind and wild like an animal acting on instinct alone. I pull back and pistol whip her again, and this time, she stops fighting, only gurgling on the blood and mumbling incoherently.

I tuck the gun into my belt and toss Jane over my shoulder. I don’t carry her far, just a bit further from the road. She doesn’t fight anymore, which is disappointing. I can hardly get hard enough to fuck her once I throw her down. She just cowers instead of running. She’s no fun at all.

Pissed at her lack of response, I drive into her with every ounce of brute strength in my body, grinding her into the dirt and twigs under us. I can feel her shivering and crying, but she doesn’t even scratch and kick the way she used to.

“I’m going to kill you,” I snarl at her, driving into her harder still. “The least you could do is fucking scream.”

“Please,” she begs through hiccupping, burbling breaths. “I have a kid back in—”

“Try,” I snap at her, wrapping my fingers around her throat. “You know I like a little fight. It makes me cum so much harder.” I drive my cock deep into her resisting cunt, loving the way it clenches so tight around me when she chokes out a sob. I wish I hadn’t sent her with Duke, so I could have done this in daylight when I could see her face, watch it twist with torment when I ram into her cervix with each vicious thrust. She curls in on herself, wracked with another sob, her knees clenching around my hips.

“I might let you live if you scream good enough for me,” I say. “I might even keep tabs on you so we can do this again someday. Give me a good one, you filthy cunt. You make it so tight for me, and nice and dry. I love that friction.” I thrust into her as hard as I can, pushing up on the hand that’s around her neck so I can see her face screwed up with pain in the moonlight.

My skinny little victim gives a strangled cry.

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