Page 76 of Crybaby

All I can do is leave him with a permanent reminder that it’s not okay, and it never will be.

I grab the knife and the ink pot and return to him, sitting on his legs. Reaching around, I unbuckle his pants and unzip his fly.

“Please don’t tell me we’re cutting his cock off.” Rev sighs, rubbing his hands through his hair, clearly not liking this concept.

“No, that would be too easy and a little cliché, wouldn’t it?” I think about Lorena Bobbitt driving off with her husband’s cock and hooking it out the window like an unwanted hot dog.

I’m still amazed those cops found it before a raccoon had a munch.

Pretty sure her husband didn’t do anything nearly as bad as Blake did, but I guess some people have a lower tolerance for bullshit. She paved the way for women’s empowerment. Now I’m just doing the same, although it’s not his cock I’m going to remove. I think I’m way more creative than that.

I pull down his pants, exposing his pearly ass, and run my fingers over it. A final goodbye to this smooth, beautiful skin. He really shouldn’t have messed with mine. I have visions of shoving the knife up his ass, but I just don’t think I’m that brutal.

I just want to leave him with a friendly reminder.

And so, it begins.

I carve a C in his left cheek. He stirs, and I see his face contort.

Rev kneels to hold the front of his body.

The C isn’t deep enough, so I go in again, and Blake’s head shoots up suddenly with a scream.

“Knock him out!” I say to Rev, and in turn, he pulls Blake’s head up by the hair and punches him hard in the face.

Blake’s eyes roll back, and he flops back with his cheek to the floor.

I continue with an R next to the C, this time knowing I have to push down harder. Blood is leaking, and I know my makeshift tattoo is probably going to look like shit due to the blood that will push out the ink I’ll be pouring over it.

At least it should scar, anyway.

I finish the left cheek with the word CRY.

Moving onto the right, I carve the word BABY, which wasn’t easy. You try cutting a B into a pliable butt cheek. But I did it enough to be legible. School showers will never be the same for him again.

I wipe the blood across his cheeks, then grab the dark blueish ink pot and cover his ass in it. That’s gotta sting, but he’s too out cold to react. I want it to work, but I doubt he’ll send me a butt selfie when it heals to show me.

So I keep cutting and pouring ink, making a dark black bloody mess.

Rev raises his eyebrows and muffles a laugh while shaking his head.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he says, looking at me with eyes that set me on fire.

Why is it that every time I do something like this, we feel like fucking? Is this some kind of fetish I don’t know about? Because I’ve got it bad. I grab his shirt, yanking his face to mine, and kiss him hard.

My bloody inked hands find his hair, and he doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls back, searching my eyes closely.

“What’s next, bunny?” He watches my mouth and scans my features on the way back up to my eyes.

“Just one more thing,” I say and find his mouth again. It’s warm and soft as my tongue slips in.

I just want to be inside him while he’s inside me. The intensity I feel is one I can never escape from, and I don’t want to. I run my hands over his jaw and clasp my precious dark angel.

Returning back to my messy masterpiece, I grab the knife and pull Blake’s right hand behind his back. Staring at each finger, I begin eeny, meeny, miny, moe. That game is so rigged, though. I always knew it as a kid too.

With five fingers, you can end up back at the start, so I begin on his index finger. I’m pretty sure that one along with another reached into my back passage a hundred times while I screamed into the night.

He won’t be using it again.

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