Page 71 of He Sees You
Jake tries to crawl away using just his left leg, leaving a trail of drool and tears, but Cain follows patiently, like a cat with a wounded mouse.
"Please," Jake gasps. "Please, I'm a cop, you can't?—"
"You were a cop. Now you're just another predator who thought a badge gave you permission." Cain pulls out a knife—not a hunting knife but something else, maybe a filet knife? "Do you know what I do to predators, Deputy Bauer?"
I sit up, pulling my torn shirt closed, and watch as Cain works.
There's an awful beauty to his precision, a terrible grace in his movements.
"You looked at her," Cain says.
The blade enters Jake's right eye socket with the wet sound of a spoon through jello.
Jake's scream cuts off into a gurgle.
"For years, you looked at what was mine. Watched her. Photographed her."
The left eye follows.
Jake is sobbing now, blind and broken, trying to cover his ruined face with his broken arms.
"You touched her." Cain grabs Jake's right wrist, positions it on the floor, and brings his boot down.
The fingers crunch like dry twigs.
Then the left hand, each finger individually snapped. "You put these hands on her body. Tore her clothes. Hit her face."
"I'm sorry," Jake whimpers through broken teeth. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean?—"
"Shh." Cain strokes Jake's hair like he’s comforting a child. "I know you didn't mean it. You couldn't help yourself. Men like you never can. The entitlement is built into your bones, trained into your muscles. You see something beautiful and you have to possess it, break it, make it small enough to fit in your hands."
Then he starts cutting lower.
Jake's screams reach pitches I didn't know human voices could achieve.
Cain works slowly, carefully, removing Jake's dick with the same precision he used on Roy.
But this time, he doesn't let Jake pass out.
Each time Jake starts to fade, Cain slaps him awake, brings him back to feel everything.
"You tried to rape her," Cain says, holding up what he's removed. "With this pathetic thing, you thought you could mark her. Own her. Show her what a real man was."
He pulls out a needle and thread from his jacket pocket.
He came prepared.
Almost like he knew this would happen.
Maybe he's been waiting for it, watching Jake circle closer, letting him build up the courage to try.
"Celeste," Cain says without looking at me. "Come here."
I stand on shaking legs, approaching them.
Jake's blind face turns toward my footsteps, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
"He needs to understand," Cain says, beginning to sew Jake's severed organ to his forehead with neat, precise stitches. "He needs to know you're not a victim."
