Page 62 of Like An Animal
Grabbing both the funnel and the bowl, I take a seat on top of his chest before shoving the funnel into his mouth as far back as I can. The fucker gags and fights, especially when he sees the bowl steaming in my other hand.
“Let me know how your dick tastes,” I growl before dumping it down the funnel. He thrashes, trying to escape me and the funnel of death, but I just jam it in harder. His eyes strain along with the muscles in his face. He tries like hell to scratch me with his good hand, but my clothes are thick enough. Plus, I’ve conditioned myself to withstand any physical pain.
As soon as it all goes down the funnel, I toss it to the side before taking his already damaged hand in mine. I grab the knife off the floor and start cutting away at the flesh.
The man gags and tries to spit it out, but the burns from the cooked dick meat make it impossible to control the muscles in his mouth.
I cut again and again, pulling out each individual bone until all that’s left of his hand is a mess of flabby, bloody tissue.
I smirk as I look up at his face and watch as the light leaves his eyes. The muscles in his face relax and the joy that fills me is unlike any I have felt in a long time.
I am a creature of habit so instead of grabbing my woman and running out of here, I go back to the kitchen and grab a jar of pickles from the fridge, dump the contents in the sink, and return to my victim.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my handy dandy enucleation spoon before digging out each of his eyes. I put them in the jar before sealing it. I’ll put them in a proper jar when I get back home, but for now, this will do.
CHAPTER 27
THE GHOST
“Let me go, you fucking asshole!” I scream before Jeremy shoves me into the backseat of the car parked in my driveway. My face slams into the leather before he closes the door.
I swear, I’m going to murder him in his sleep.
All I can hope is that he’s planning to take me to wherever he sent Lottie. The only saving grace in all of this is that she wasn’t in that house to hear all the screaming from Kyle. He deserved everything Jeremy did to him for trying to kill me, but I wasn’t prepared for the kind of unhinged nature that Jeremy put out into the ether. The man pulled Kyle’s bones out his hands and laid them out on the table to spell out the word “mine”.
He is definitely a psycho and I must be, too. I got so wet from seeing the word spelled out in my deceased husband’s bones. My body is definitely broken.
Jeremy climbs into the driver’s seat, tosses down the pickle jar with Kyle’s eyes in it on the front passenger seat, before he turns over the engine.
Who the fuck plucks out someone else’s eyes post mortem? That was creepy as fuck and seemed pointless.
He speeds off so fast that my body is hurled across the seat and my face impacts the door.
I grunt but shake it off.
“Couldn’t you have untied me before shoving me in here?” I complain as I struggle to turn myself over.
“Nope,” he mutters before he turns up the radio so loud my ears vibrate from the sound. I can’t even hear myself hurling all of my insults his way. He’s getting on my last nerve.
I don’t remember Jeremy being this insufferable. Sure, he was a pain in the ass, but he also had his sweet moments. He made me fall for him, but those feelings are long gone. He can play my body like a harpsichord, but my heart is completely out of reach to anyone, including him.
I locked it away so I could do what I had to all those years ago. It would’ve killed me if I hadn’t.
I barely manage to sit up as he pulls up to an airstrip. I would ask him where the hell he is planning to take me, but that would be pointless.
The only thing that helps me relax is knowing that the Fathers of Jephthah won’t be able to find me or Lottie if Jeremy locks us away in a tower.
That is the only thing that scares me anymore–my daughter being forced to be one of the Daughters of Jephthah. She’s now at the age where they would initiate her and I can’t let that happen. I’d die before I’d ever allow them to hurt my baby girl.
Jeremy parks next to the plane before turning off the car. The music cuts out and I can finally speak.
“Where are you taking me?” I demand, but he doesn’t answer me. Instead, he climbs out of the car and slams the door behind him.
After a minute, he opens the back door and yanks me out by my bound wrists. My knees ache as they hit the pavement, scraping some of the skin raw.
“Fuck you!” I growl as he pulls me to my feet.
“Come on, brat.”
