Page 117 of Sinners' Appetite
“Jesus Christ! What the fuck is that smell?” he exclaims, backing up against the wall behind him.
“Yeah, Paul—whats with the smell? This place fucking reeks.”
“I never noticed.” He smirks.
I hold the pointed tip of the knife up to my finger, spinning it a few times before gripping the handle tight, stabbing the same leg as before but creating a new wound right next to the other one.
“I don’t have time to play games, Paul,” I seethe through my clenched teeth.
“Fuuckkk youuuuu!” He screams, reminding me that I’ll have to stuff his mouth with something before he alerts the whole neighborhood and our play date is cut short.
“Go see if she’s still alive…” I tell Jeremy who’s still gaining composure against the wall with his head held in his hands.
The very second he flicks the light on, he lets out a gasp, covering his mouth with one hand as he braces himself against the doorframe with the other. “Fuck, Malachi, you gotta come see this,” he mumbles.
I take a deep breath and walk over, peeking my head around the door. The entire room is lined with soundproofing materials, which look to be double the thickness than its typical use requires.
Lined up along one side are at least five chains attached to the floor with what looks to be two dog dishes set out in front of them. Although the room appears to be clean, it reeks of—rotting flesh.
When my eyes finally wander to the corner of the room, that’s when I see the girl he left The Palace with. I rush over to her, and she cowers away, a fear instilled in her eyes like I’ve never seen before. I don’t know how long she’s been trailing along with Paul, but she looks weak and deprived. Almost—sickly, but with pretty clothes on and her makeup done.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to stay put until we’re done, okay? I promise, we’ll get you out of here. Can you be patient for me?”
Finally, she nods and curls into a tight ball, quietly sobbing as she rocks herself back and forth.
Who the fuck does this shit to people? I’ll never understand what runs through their sick twisted minds. I may have killed a person—or two—but I did it for the right reasons, if there is such a thing. Those people didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as their victims. I did what had to be done.
“Seriously?Youwon’tteachme how to cut firewood?” I tease after Dean grabs the ax from my hand.
“Not at night, little Miss. I’ll teach you tomorrow, if you really want to learn.”
I stand back and fold my arms over my chest with a hint of attitude. “I do want to learn.”
“I’ll make it happen…” he winks.
I watch him closely as he starts to chop the small portions of wood into even smaller pieces, his silhouette glowing from the fire dancing off his forearms and biceps.
“I’m gonna head to bed a little early, love.” Sammi comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around the front of me.
“Really? We were gonna roast some marshmallows…” I try to convince her, using the sweetest of tones.
“I have a headache. I’m gonna go see if I can sleep it off.”
“I think there’s some ibuprofen in my nightstand.”
“That might help. You two have fun…” She winks, setting off toward the cabins.
“Want a beer?” Dean asks, tossing a pile of wood into the fire then reaching into the cooler.
“I’ll politely decline. I hate beer. I only drink it when I’m drunk already.” I smile. “Thanks anyway, though.”
He opens his beer and takes a seat on the bench in front of the fire, tapping the spot beside him, motioning for me to come sit next to him.
“So, tell me a bit more about yourself. I feel like we skipped that part entirely. Malachi wants what he wants, when he wants it.” He chuckles, reaching for my hand.
The warmth of his skin against mine has my body tingling. His skin is much rougher than Malachi’s, probably due to working on cars and such.
“What do you want to know?” I flash him a friendly smile, my eyes locking with his.
