Page 141 of Girls Night
She’s right, it is her fault, but I’m not holding it against her. There isn’t any time for that. If the clock shit is true, I’ve already wasted a couple of minutes puking my brains out. Not that I know how the fuck I’m supposed to end this man’s pitiful existence, I’m not a fucking killer, but I can’t let us die either.
“Don’t worry about it, Jules,” I answer, wiping my mouth with the back of hand. “We just need to get the fuck out of here.”
“We’ve provided you with a blade,” the masked man goes on to add. “There’s also a pistol if you’d prefer that method.”
I don’t prefer any method. I’m not a fucking killer! Never in my wildest dreams have I ever imagined killing someone, not even the man they want me to kill.
But if that’s what it’s going to take to get us out alive…
“W-where’s the blade?” I ask, stare trained on my abuser as he tries lifting his head to get a good look at me.
Seconds later, said blade clatters to the wood floors beside me.
“Kaia, don’t,” Jules tries, grabbing hold of my arm, but I break myself free and bend down to retrieve the weapon.
“I don’t wanna do this either, Jules, but we won’t make it out of here if I don’t. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Easier said than done, though. The blade weighs more than I anticipated, making each step closer to my abuser more difficult than the last. Idly, I realize it has to be the drugs somewhat pulling me through this, because sober Kaia would never be so willing to do this and get it over with. She’d be crying, screaming, asking millions of questions.
But again—there isn’t time for that.
The longer I think, the closer Jules and I creep towards imminent death.
I’m standing right before him now, hands shaking as I tighten my grip on the blade. Behind me I can just make out Jules crying, but most of it is blocked by my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Pushing his head back, I force the motberfucker who took my virginity and raped me as a young girl to look me dead in the eye. He can barely focus, but even if he could, I don’t know that he’d recognize me.
“Five minutes left,” the masked man utters, and that’s when all hell breaks loose.
All around me from other rooms, scream break free. Glass crashes, thuds resound against walls. It’s exactly what I imagine hell sounds like. I nearly hurl again, but manage to breathe through the wave, intent on focusing on the task at hand before it’s too late.
How am I supposed to do this though?
Do I stab him? Slice him?
It doesn’t matter as long as he dies,a dark little voice says in my head. I’m choosing to believe that’s self-preservation and instincts taking over, but who knows. Inhaling a deep breath, I set the blade to my abusers neck, and pray to God he’ll forgive me for what I’m about to do.
“I doubt you remember me,” I tell him. “But I remember you, and it looks like karma finally caught up to you.”
“Kaia, don’t,” Jules tries again, but I shake my head.
“For all I know, I’m not the only one you put your filthy hands on. You deserve this, and I hope when it’s all said and done, when you take that final breath, that you rot in hell.”
“Two minutes.” Another reminder, and the end of the line.
I have to do it.
With one last steadying breath, I squeeze my eyes shut, and drag the blade along my abuser’s throat. Almost instantly, he gasps for air, snapping my eyes open to find his body convulsing in the chair he’s strapped through as blood spews from his neck. Behind me, I clearly hear Jules balling as a dark chuckle sounds from the door and the soundtrack of absolute terror continues ringing out through the house.
Thirty seconds later, he’s dead. His head lolls back and that’s it; all movement ceases. There’s a puddle of blood quickly accumulating around him, a sight that has me dropping the blade so fast you’d think it seared my palm. I clutch my throat, eyes wide as the gravity of what I’ve done slams into me.
I killed someone. I, Kaia Williams, killed someone without thinking twice. Yes, my life was on the lines, Jules’ too, but still. I just committed a murder. There’s blood now forever staining my hands.
“Now finish him,” the masked man’s voice sounds again.
“What do you mean finish him? She already did!” Jules bellows, black streams pouring down her face.
The masked man laughs that diabolical chuckle of his. “He’s still hard.”
