Page 60 of In The Dark
“Iknewthere was someone there.” I shove his chest and he wraps his fingers around my wrist. “Apologize.”
“I’m sorry.” He kisses my nose then my cheek. “I’m sorry, angel. You’re under my skin, and I can’t stop. No more stalking. If I’m there, you’ll know I’m there.”
“I should make you sleep outside.”
“I’d do it willingly. But only after I give you the one hundred boxes of Earl Gray tea bags I bought for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know it’s your favorite, and I drove around to every store in town finding the best brands. I also had some shipped in from England. You have a cup every night, and this was part of my apology plan.” Hunter’s hands roam up my back. “I’m sorry for scaring you and making you feel crazy. I’m pathetic when it comes to you,” he murmurs.
“I’m so mad at you, but I’m also mad at you for making it hard to be mad at you.” I grab a fistful of his shirt, bringing his mouth close to mine. “No more secrets. No more spying. Do you understand?”
There’s a flash of reluctance that flints in his eyes, but he blinks it away. Gives me a wide grin and kisses me like the world is going to end tomorrow.
“I promise, angel,” he says. “No more secrets.”
TWENTY-ONE
HUNTER
I wastwenty-four the first time I killed someone, and I threw up for days after.
I was never violent growing up. My mom called me a sensitive soul, a kid with big feelings who latched onto things he loved fiercely and didn’t let go.Hyperfixation, my therapist told her.But there’s no cause for concern unless it progresses to erratic behavior.
I wonder if pulling a knife from Darren Blimka’s neck and staring down at the rapist bleeding out on the asphalt of a deserted parking lot would be classified as erratic behavior. I should probably give her a call and set up an appointment.
I give his shoulder a nudge with my boot and he twitches, covering his face.
Still alive, I guess, and I sigh, knowing I’m going to be here longer than I want.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he sobs. “My brain isn’t right. I didn’t see her as a child.”
“She’sfour.” I squat and hold the knife in front of him. A drop of his own blood falls onto his nose, and he wails. “When I chop your dick off and feed it to the alligators in the lake across the way, it’s because my brain isn’t right either.”
“Please. Please. I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”
“Really?” I flip the knife and grin, catching it by the handle with ease. “Tell ya what. If you chop off your own dick, I promise I’ll get you medical assistance. That wound on your neck won’t kill you. Not yet.”
“Y-you want me to…” His eyes widen and he starts to convulse. “No. No. I can’t. I?—”
“Punishment fits the crime, don’t you think? You had no problem tormenting a child. It’s only fair you’re tormented too.”
“It will never happen again. I swear. Please. I-I’ll go back to the judge and ask them for a life sentence. I’ll never touch another person. I’ve changed. You have to see that.”
“The only thing I see is a coward too afraid to face the consequences of his actions.” I spit in his face, not listening to his whimper when I touch the knife to his cheek. “And someone who is going to make me late for my dinner plans because they won’t shut the fuck up. Last chance, Blimka. If you want to live, you’ll do what you have to do.”
Darren’s eyes move from me to the knife. A drop of blood rolls down his neck, and his lip quivers.
Men always look so pathetic right before they die.
With a gasping breath, he snatches the weapon out of my hold. I expect him to try to stab me—that’s what these assholes usually try and do—but he slowly brings his hand to his jeans and unzips the fly. He sniffs as he pulls out his small, unimpressive dick, another sob overtaking him.
There’s a moment of hesitation, as if he thinks I’m going to laugh and say this is all a joke. A big prank to see how far he’d go to attempt to rid himself of his sins, but when I fold my arms over my chest, patience wearing thin, he brings the blade to his genitalia and starts to slice.
The scream he lets out isn’t human. I grin as blood starts to spurt from the incision, each laceration bringing another shriekthat’s music to my ears. Darren’s face has gone chalk white, shock from the loss of blood setting while the copper smell of torture and pain tickles my nose.
Watching his suffering, the way he writhes and stains the asphalt with the sacrifice that doesn’t begin to offer him redemption brings me peace. I stand and step back, not an ounce of remorse in my veins as he reaches for me, begging with his last breaths to helped, assistance I refuse to grant.
