Page 137 of Stand: Part One
I chuckled this time, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, my wife feels the same way. You can imagine how well that’s worked out for her. Or how well that’s worked out for literally anyone,” I empathized.
Natasha’s brows furrowed in confusion, her silence weighing down the obvious. “If she’s married to you, then I feel sorry for her,” she said bitterly.
“You shouldn’t,” I replied. “She’s much better off now since she was in the same auction as you once. I’d say she got pretty lucky compared to your buyers.”
Natasha’s face lit up in horror, her eyes becoming as big as saucers. “Lucky? Did you also rape her as often as you raped me?” she practically snarled, baring her teeth.
“Oh, definitely more,” I answered. “Just like you, she also had a problem with obedience. But she was far more amusing than any of you ever were, which was why I decided to keep her for myself.”
Her features tightened with disgust as she glared at me, hatred brimming in her eyes. “That poor girl,” she hissed.
I waved her off with a smirk. “I’m honestly not sure what’s worse. Being stuck with me or getting gang-raped every night under the rule of a Mexican cartel. I imagine the drugs at least helped to pass the time and numb the pain.”
Natasha’s lips twisted into a scowl. “I’d choose the cartel any day.”
I laughed softly at her attempt to remain strong. “If only you’d been a little bit smarter and not earned yourself an ass beating the day before the auction. You might have ended up with someone who actually gives a shit about you. But you chose to devalue yourself at the worst possible time instead.”
Slight trembles shook Natasha’s body, her glossy green eyes watering in the corners. Her fists clenched at her side, her knuckles turning white, and just like that, I watched her turn right back into that frightened little girl who never stood a chance in my world.
“You really are a fucking monster,” she whispered.
My lips curled at the obvious. “I’m aware. Now, what was the drug of choice Gael got you fixed on again? It was heroin, wasn’t it?”
Natasha gulped back a panicked breath as my men began to crowd her, one of them pulling out a small plastic bag from their breast pocket and tossing it to Scott.
“What are you doing?! Let go of me!” she nearly screamed before she was restrained and pressed into the bed, her protests muffled by the pillows.
“You know, addiction is very difficult to overcome, especially during incredibly stressful times,” I said, my hands dipping into my pockets as I inspected the room. “I can’t imagine that describing the worst horrors of your life in front of a very large crowd wouldn’t retraumatize you into a very unstable mental state.”
“No!” A sob filtered through the pillows as Natasha’s body began to shake, her limbs fighting for the freedom she wouldn’t find.
Pulling out a large metal spoon and lighter, Scott held up the spoon while Brian carefully poured a large amount of the powdered heroin onto it. Removing the syringe from his pocket, Brian gently emptied the water mixed with citric acid into the spoon while Scott held the lighter underneath.
“Please, don’t do this! Not like this! Please!” Natasha cried from the bed, tilting her face away from the pillows. She struggled to lift herself, fighting as best she could to get away, but Alex and Jackson held her firmly in place.
“You should be ecstatic to go out like this, Natasha,” I countered. “All that euphoria you get to experience right before the light goes out? What better way to end your own life after all you’ve suffered, right?”
Heavy tears fell from her eyes as she continued to choke out inaudible pleas.
“I’m sure the world will understand.”
Once the heroin liquefied, Brian took the syringe and filled the barrel, tapping it lightly to remove those pesky little air bubbles.
“You piece of shit! You know you don’t have to do this!” she cried, panic flushing her pale skin.
“Oh, but I actually do,” I replied affirmatively. “With all your wear and tear, I doubt you’d sell twice.”
More tears. More pleas.
“I’ll disappear! I promise! I won’t help anymore! I didn’t even know your name until tonight!”
I shook my head at her desperate attempt. “Sorry, but I don’t like loose ends,” I answered. “They have a tendency to unravel the fabric.”
“No! No! Don’t!” Natasha screamed as they flipped her on her back and tied the rubber tourniquet around her small bicep. The track marks covering both of her arms were extensive, and I hoped none of her veins had collapsed.
Pressing the needle into her skin, Brian injected the fatal dose of heroin into Natasha’s bloodstream, the effects of which were nearly immediate. Her struggling ceased as her body grew limp, her eyes glazing over while her head fell back into the pillows.
It only took about five minutes before her breathing started to slow, the rising of her chest lessening with each breath. After rubbing the spoon clean of his prints, Scott placed it between Natasha’s fingers. After ensuring her fingerprints were in place, he set it down on the nightstand, along with the syringe, empty plastic bag, and cheap lighter.
