Page 26 of Penance

I curl my lip in disgust at his blithering.

“Didn’t know what, Sidney?”

“That it was, th-that yo-you, you, it was you, I didn’t know, please,” he cries.

I look up at Charlie, standing sentry at the end of the table, the doors thrown wide open behind him revealing nothing but more darkness.

“You’ve been watching me, Sidney.” I say coldly, my eyes still locked on my cousin. “And I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all,” I tut, dropping my gaze back to him.

“Pl-please,” he begs.

Great sobs racking his body, shockwaves of his suffering running through the glass tabletop, the vibration working its way through the soles of my boots.

“Do you know what that sounds like to me, Sidney?” I ask.

Lifting my cleaver from the table, I run the tip down the crown of his scalp, not pressing in, not drawing blood, nothing more than the ominous feeling of steel against skin.

“Begging,” I state viciously, my blade finally breaking skin at the nape of his neck, just a nick in my anger but I pull back.

Control is important.

“Do you remember whenIwould beg,Sidney? When I would cry, kick and scream?”

I stand up, his head craning back to look up at me, his eyes red and pupils blown, tears and snot streaking down his shadowed face in equal parts.

“I’m sorry!” he wails, “I’m fucking sorry!” he spits in anger, hatred marring his words even in his faux apology.

I laugh, my head thrown back, my eyes shut tight, my blade wielding hand pressed against my concave belly. I laugh so hard tears stream down my face.

“Oh, Sidney,” I chuckle darkly, “you don’t have to say sorry. I don’t need your fake fucking apologies, you piece of fucking shit. I really only need one thing from you.”

I grin, my lips spreading wide like I carved a Chelsea fucking smile into my own cheeks. I quickly drop back down into a crouch. Running my blade beneath his jaw, I press, forcing him to twist his head up to face me at an almost unnatural angle. Dropping my lips so they ghost across his, our gazes’ level.

“I just need to make you bleed,” I whisper, carrying my last word, my breath fanning across his face.

He cries out as I stand abruptly, biting into my lip so hard I taste blood. I smash my booted foot down into his face. Something cracks, an unnatural wail falling from his lips as I kick his face again, this time I’m not disappointed. There’s blood, his jaw sitting at an odd angle making me smile. I take a few steps back, kicking, smashing and stomping the china as I go, as if it were never there to begin with, until I’m stood over Max. I grin down at him, still seated in his chair, his hands balled into fists atop his thick thighs, encased in tight, black denim.

“Light some more candles if you would, Maxi,” I beam, before twisting away and stepping down onto a chair, hopping from that to the floor.

Max moves, stealing the matchbox. Moving around the room, he starts by lighting the mirrored sconces. That’ll give me enough light to really be able to enjoy myself.

“So, on a scale of one to ten, how much does your foot hurt,Sid?” I ask as I walk along the length of the table.

Bypassing Charlie at the end, I step in front of him, sliding my hand still holding onto my knife, across his bare chest. His body rippling beneath my touch, I wink conspiratorially as I pass him. Rounding the table, I drop the tip of the cleaver to the glass, pressing down just hard enough to elicit that uncomfortable screeching scream of metal on glass. I groan in satisfaction at the sound as Sidney flails around on the tabletop like a fish out of water.

“Let’s play a game, little Sidney. You ever playedWould You Rather?” I ask innocently.

Genuine intrigue piquing my appetite, I cock my head. Surveying his squirming body as he claws his way to the edge of the table. Like an earthworm dried out by the scorching sun, trying to squirm his way back into the moist soil, desperately clinging to life.

His fingers curl around the edge, readying to heave himself over, just as Kacey appears. Grabbing a hold of him, flipping him over in one violent flash of movement. Sidney’s body slamming back down onto the table, this time facing up, the air whooshing out of his lungs at the impact.

“Answer the fucking question,” I order, my voice turning sinister.

I slam my hand down onto the table, the steel of my cleaver clattering against the smooth glass.

“Ye-yes, yes, I have,” he whimpers, his words slurred, his mouth slack, the desperate sound slowly soothing my soul.

“Good!” I beam.

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