Page 119 of Sinners' Appetite
Dean swipes his phone off the counter and unplugs it from the charger. “It’s Malachi,” he says, coming around the island to sit beside me.
A few seconds after Dean answers the call, the video finally loads clear and we both gasp at what we see on the screen.
“Someone would like to say something. Is Sammi still awake?” Malachi asks from somewhere in the background.
All we can see is Paul, tied to a chair with blood dripping down his leg and landing in a pool beneath him on the floor. He’s awake, but barely able to open his eyes due to the immense amount of swelling.
“S-she had a headache. She w-went to bed early,” I manage to breathe out, not sure how to feel about what I’m seeing.
I mean, I want the guy dead as much as everybody else, but I’m not sure that I really wanted to see the process.
“Oh? Should I get Jeremy to check in with her?”
“No, I’m sure she just needs to sleep it off.”
“Okay, well…I guess you could relay the message.” I see Malachi walk into frame, right behind Paul. “Go on, Paul. Say it.”
He opens his mouth, but doesn’t say a single word as he lifts his head slowly to look into the camera. Instead of remorse in his eyes, I see nothing but the pure fucking evil. Just looking at him brings tears to my eyes as my mind wanders back through the darkness he dragged Sammi and I through.
“You okay, babe?” Dean asks, lifting his thumb to my cheek to swipe the tears away.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, turning my head away from the phone to gather myself for a moment.
“Say it…” I hear Malachi repeat.
“I’m—so sorry…” Paul finally says.
To be honest—apologies never really mean that much to me. I feel as though most people don’t actually mean it when they say it. It’s usually forced and lacks sincerity. I’m rather disgusted by its overuse.
“There ya go, big guy. Was it really that fucking hard?” Malachi says.
I turn my head, hoping that Malachi has moved the camera away from Paul, but he hasn’t. In fact, the second I look at the video again, Malachi’s bringing a set of bolt cutters into view, opening them as he brings them closer to Paul’s groin.
“M-Malachi…what are you doing?” I ask, frightened by what I think I might see him do next.
He ignores me and passes the bolt cutters to Jeremy who’s standing just out of view. “Hold these while I cut his shorts open.”
Paul’s eyes grow wide and he starts to full blown panic, wiggling and screaming until Malachi rips a portion of his shirt off to stuff into his mouth.
“Sorry about the noise, baby girl,” he says, disappearing for a moment before showing back up with a pair of scissors in his hands. “Can you guess what’s coming next, Paul?” He threatens, leaning in close to Paul’s ear.
Malachi chuckles and circles around in front of Paul, blocking my view for long enough to cut the clothing off him.
“No punishment will ever be enough for the disgusting shit you’ve done, Paul, but mark my fucking words—I’ll shove your own cock down your throat so deep that your ancestors will fucking feel it.”
I then hear Jeremy off to the side, snickering to himself. “Oh no! Not Aunt Peggy!” he says, barely able to contain his laughter.
Malachi then bursts out laughing, which then makes Dean join. The only one not laughing is me.
I’m far too shocked to process any of this.
I know about Malachi’s dark past, but this… this is too much for me to handle right now.
“I’m gonna go take a shower. I don’t feel so good,” I say, unable to say another word to Malachi.
I’m not mad, I’m just—conflicted.
As I’m walking into the direction of the bathroom, I hear Malachi ask if I’m okay, to which Dean explains that maybe it was a bit much to video call us.
