Page 132 of The First Cut
“I’m gonna enjoy this,” I warn him as I pry his eyelid open and ready the scalpel for him to see. “Now I have to warn you, this won’t be pretty.” I stab the blade into the outer edge of his eye and effectively cut all the way around, smiling as he screams himself hoarse and passes out. I cut away from the socket, detaching the muscles that make the eye move. It takes some wiggling, but I manage to get the blade in behind the eyeball and cut through the optic nerve. Then it’s just a case of popping it out.
“Really fucking glad I haven’t eaten,” Mud mutters.
Spotting the piss bucket on the floor, I toss the eye inside.
“He shoots, he scores!” Sev cheers, making the others laugh.
“Sever might be as bad as you.” Byte chuckles as I remove the second eye.
I look at him and grin. “Nah, there’s no one like me.”
“Thank fuck for that,” someone mumbles, making more people laugh.
“Heads up.” I toss the second eyeball to Sever.
“Ooh, a stress ball.”
Snoopy gags as Sev squeezes it. “Oh, that’s nasty, Sev.”
“I’ve never known a brother as squeamish as you.” Sev rolls his eyes while rolling Driller’s eye around the palm of his hand.
“You’re playing with a fucking eyeball.”
“What’s your point?”
Snoopy throws his hands up in the air and moves out of the way, which is just as well.
I look at Repo as he drags out my med kit from under the table at the side of the room.
“Thought you might want this.”
“Ah, perfect.” I walk over to it and rummage around for what I’m after. I pull out a prepared syringe and walk back to Driller. I find the spot I need and jab him with the needle before pressing the plunger.
It only takes a few seconds for him to jolt and gasp. “What the fuck is happening?” His voice comes out scratchy and laced with pain.
“Look for yourself. Oh, my bad,” Ferris jokes.
I grip Driller’s jaw and squeeze it tightly. “I took your eyes. Not just because you hit Lola, but because you made everyone blind to what was happening. I’m going to take your hearing next, for all the times her screams fell on deaf ears. And then, when you can’t see where the next blow will come from or hear when someone creeps up behind you, I’m going to cut out your tongue so nobody will hear you beg and plead for mercy.”
I lean in close, my lips a whisper of a breath from his ear. “Do you know why they call me Hannibal?”
He tries to yank his head out of my hold, but I grip him tighter. “I’m going to cut out your heart and eat it.”
I hum a merry tune as I walk over to the table where various instruments are laid out. A scalpel is my favorite, but I like to switch it up occasionally. I run my fingers over a particularly sinister-looking ice pick. Picking it up to judge its weight, I nod, “This will work.”
I grab the hammer for good measure and walk back to Driller, whistling. “Hold him again.”
Mud and Meek do as I ask, grabbing him and holding him in place. Happy that he can’t move, I place the tip of the ice pick just inside his ear canal.
“The trick is not to hit too hard. I don’t want this to be over before it begins.”
“Thanks for that, doctor death,” Meek mutters.
“I like that. I’ll get a nameplate for the desk with it on.”
“Somehow, I don’t think he’s joking either.” Mud chuckles.
I lick my lip and tap the end of the pick with the hammer. The noise that comes out of Driller can only be described as inhuman. I tap it again until I feel some resistance, then I tap it a little harder for good measure. I feel something pop and grin. “This is fun. Anyone else want a go?”
