Page 76 of Begging for Mercy
“That’syour mighty weapon?” I push up onto my elbows and grin maliciously. I could cry and scream and play the victim—or, I could fight back the only way I know how. “I’ve seen the real Reaper’s dick, and it’s twice as big.” Staring at his penis, I lift an eyebrow. “Is it gonna grow any more, or is that it?”
Someone pulls my hair, yanking me flat against the table. My scalp screams. My shoulders ache. Everythinghurts.
“Make her choke on it, Reaper!”
I laugh again.Louder.Maybe it’s the trauma. Maybe I’m crazy. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. Tears fall freely, and I can hardly catch my breath.
I should have stayed home, surrounded by dead things. At least there, I fit in. I’ll never belong in a place like this.
Someone slaps their dick on my face, and a chorus of laughter erupts around the room. Maybe I’m laughing, too. I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m laughing anymore.
“Open up, Dead Girl,” Fake Reaper orders, hanging the back of my head over the edge of the table. I don’t know when he moved. I guess it doesn’t matter. He’s here. I’m here. Just a warm, wet hole for someone to fill.
I wish Sam was here instead.
I wish Kane were here, too.
I want it so badly that I imagine hearing his voice. “Get thefuckoff my Siren!” A growl. The heavythudof a punch. Shouting.
Commotion stirs across the room, but I’m too busy fighting off oral invasion to pay attention. Thankfully, the girls who aren’t fleeing the room are stepping up and voicing their doubts. One even tries to pull “Reaper” off of me, but she’s quickly thrown to the shirtless hyenas circling their prey and lost among them. Someone shouts. Something crashes and shatters on the floor. The dick hanging over my face disappears, and all I can do is laugh and cry and try not to throw up.
Someone crashes into my table and I fall, slamming into the hardwood and knocking the air from my lungs. My ears ring as I crawl on my hands and knees, desperate to move. Desperate to flee. I don’t know where I’m going, but it has to be better than here.
A heavy hand wraps around my ankle andyanks, dragging me across the floor. I scream and kick as I’m flipped over, coming face to face with Fake Reaper, his nose bloodied, teeth stained red, a malicious gleam in his eyes. He pulls his fist back, and I scream.
Blood splatters across my body, and something wet falls on my chest as a gunshot pierces the air. We both stare at the hole in his fist as blood pours from the wound, covering what little remains of his hand and dripping down his wrist. I glance down at my chest and find the bloodied stump that used to be his thumb. With a shriek, I fling it off of me.
Kane kicks the bastard over, toppling him to the floor. As Fake Reaper tries to scramble away, Kane stomps on his spine, snarling. “Isaid, get the fuck off of her.” He cocks the gun, loading a bullet into the chamber. “She’smine.”
A second gunshot pierces the air, then a third, and a fourth. Kane empties the magazine and stomps on the corpse’shead repeatedly. “You dumb fucker,” he growls, “piece of shit copycat!”
Anyone hiding on the second floor quickly descends the stairs and flees, a few girls crying as they cover their tits with their hands. Shouting echoes from above, and one of the football players tumbles down the stairs, going limp as soon as he hits the bottom landing. Kane spins around, quickly loading a second magazine and holding up his gun. Glancing at me, some of the anger drains from his face. “Stay there, beautiful; give me a minute to clean up.” Blood clings to his face and neck, staining his clothes. He storms over to the stairs and yells. “Get the fuck down here!” Planting his foot on the unconscious man’s chest, he aims at his face. “Before I shoot this fucker, too!”
“Wait!” Two men appear from the upper floor, holding their hands up as they take slow, careful steps down the stairs. One’s got a busted lip and the other’s looking over his shoulder, clearly pissed off. “Get the fuck down here, Sam! This is your fault!”
The one with the split lip stares at his buddy on the floor. “Shit, man, you killed Thomas!”
“He’s still breathing.” Kane’s smile curves like the sharp tip of a knife. “For now.” He waves the gun impatiently. “C’mon, c’mon, we don’t have all day.”
Sam appears at the top of the stairs last, following the other two down. His eyes search the room until he finds me, and the color drains from his face. Most of it, anyway—he’s got a black eye and a bloody nose, torn shirt, ripped jeans. “Mercy, baby, I’m so sorry.”
The gun swings in Sam’s direction. “Don’t you fucking talk to her.”
“I wasn’t in on this, I swear!”
Kane growls. “I willkillyou, Samson fucking Wright!”
“Go ahead!” Sam throws his arms out and keens like a wounded animal. “It’s what I fucking deserve!”
The men in front of Sam flinch, stopping on the stairs. “No you fucking don’t,” one of them yells. “Jesus, Sam, get a grip. She’s just a girl!”
“Don’t throw your goddamn life away!”
“Enough!” Kane shoves off of the stairwell and sighs, walking over to me in record time. Keeping the gun aimed behind him, he searches my face. “What do you want me to do, Siren?”
I feel numb inside, barely able to lift my head off the floor. I don’t know when I laid down. “Why are you asking me?” My heart stirs, but all I feel is the aching echo of its beat.
Kane’s voice softens. “Because he’s your boyfriend.” He runs a gentle hand over my hair. “And you’re the victim here. You should decide his fate.”
