Page 18 of Damaged
Sitting the tumbler next to me at the end of the desk, Jackson lifts the bottle of liquor up once again. “Hold the bitch still,” he says.
I walk around and grab both sides of her head by her hair. Smirking down at her, he tilts the bottle over her nose and mouth and begins pouring it…slowly. She tries to sit up to get away from the liquid, but with me holding her the way I am, all she can do is try to turn her face this way and that.
Jackson tracks her every movement, pouring with agonizing slowness, watching as she gags, chokes, and sputters. My gaze fixes on him—on the way he watches her. His face is calm, almost serene, his focus meticulous. The intensity of his concentration is…mesmerizing.
Once the bottle is empty, Christina begins to cough, but since I’m still holding her, she can’t seem to catch her breath. “Pl-please stop. Pl-please,” she mutters through coughing. “I won’t…tell…anyone. I-I…pr-promise.”
“Of course you won’t tell anyone,” Jackson says, as he takes the liquor bottle by the neck and smashes the end against the desk. Christina jumps away, but the glass shards fly, hitting her arm, face, and neck making her shriek.
“We need to hurry, Jackson,” I say, glancing up at the clock, making him look over at me.
“Let’s finish this quickly then. Do you want her middle or her end?”
“I want her end.”
Jackson looks down at Christina, holding the broken bottle up to her face with a wide grin covering his. Her eyes widen comically, crossing as the bottle gets closer. “You’re lucky we don’t have time to spend on you. I really wanted to show you what fucking me would be like. Except I was going to use this right here.”
Her body begins to shake uncontrollably now. Setting the bottle on its side, he grabs both sides of her shirt and rips it open, making buttons fly everywhere. She tries so hard to get up,but now I grab onto the cord, pulling with all my might, so she starts to turn blue.
Lifting the bottle once again, there is a sharp, pointy shard sticking out from the bottom further than all the rest. He rests the sharp edge against the center of her chest. Pressing in, blood begins to pool and spill out as he cuts down her sternum slowly.
The smell of copper permeates the room.
The smell of her blood really gets my engine revving.
Once he’s past the bone, he presses in harder, slicing through the stomach muscle, moving all the way down to where her pants hem is. Giving it one final push, the hem tears and blood is pouring out of her. She’s trying to scream, but the pressure of the cord on her trachea is prohibiting much noise from coming out.
My heart is racing with excitement.
“Your turn,” he says, bringing the broken blue glass toward me, handing it to me by the neck. It’s such a pretty blue color too. Especially now with the mix of blood. I release the cord, allowing her to breathe and cough, but just barely. She’s panting for breath now, mixing with her moans. It shows just how much of her life force is leaving her. “Let’s end this and get the fuck outta here.”
Her eyes are rolling around in her head, trying to find focus on something…on anything. I lean down into her face, slapping her cheek with my free hand. I want to make sure I have her full attention and she comprehends exactly what I’m saying.
Her eyes try to connect with mine, but they keep crossing and uncrossing, then rolling around. When her eyes somewhat focus on me, I bring the bottle to my mouth and lick the blood off the side that’s dripping down onto my hand.
My taste buds erupt at the iron taste.
Placing the sharp edge of the broken bottle just below her ear, I pierce the flesh just enough to see her flinch just slightly,squeezing her eyes shut, and watch a drop of blood move down into her ratted hair.
A lone tear falls from her eye, chasing after it.
I push the piece further into her carotid artery and slide it along her throat all the way across to the other ear. The bottle slicing through the soft flesh of her neck like a knife in warm butter.
Then I give her the last words she will ever hear.
“Wait for me in hell. I’m not done with you yet, bitch!”
Watching the blood leave her body and the life leave her eyes, I’m fascinated and intrigued. My head tilts to one side and then the other, just taking in everything. Storing the visual for later, when I can truly appreciate its beauty.
Jackson begins shuffling things around on the desk, looking for her keycard. I didn’t see it on her when we first came in, but then again I wasn’t really paying attention to that. We have to find it in order to get out of here.
I’m registering what he’s doing, but my mind is still focused on watching the blood slowly drip down from her throat onto the floor. There is a puddle forming beneath her already that I’m finding quite fascinating.
“Help me find the keycard so we can get the fuck out of here,” Jackson growls out as he shoves Christina’s lifeless body onto the floor, breaking the spell I was in watching her. “See if it’s on the floor. I will check the drawers.”
Nodding, I crouch down where she’s crumpled on the dirty carpet in a heap and check her pockets and around her body. Pulling her cell phone from inside her back pocket, I make sure to keep hold of it. It could come in handy.
I bend down, looking under the desk, seeing her wallet as well, when I finally hear Jackson. Reaching out, I grab it, palming it with the phone.
