Page 76 of Among the Sins of my Father

He’s sitting alone at a desk in the room. He’s wearing an open bathrobe, eyes fixed on the porn flashing across the screen in front of him, one hand gripped around his flaccid cock, the other gripped around a glass of whiskey.

He’s trying to stroke himself, trying to pump some life into his limp cock, but it’s not working. He growls in frustration. But he doesn’t see me as I step into the room. He doesn’t notice as I lift the knife gripped tightly between my fingers.

“Hello, Master.”

His bloodshot eyes, glowing in the reflection of the screen, shoot toward me in shock. “How the fuck—”

“Shh,” I warn him, waving the knife a little to remind him that it’s there.

He looks toward the door.

“The guards are gone,” I say. He gets to his feet, attempting to step toward me but I shake my head slowly. “No one is coming to save you.”

He attempts to arrange his face into a smile. “Iris,” he coos.

“My name is Hope.”

He holds up his hands. “Hope, yes I know, but I always rather liked Iris. It suited you, did it not? My beautiful flower.”

“Stop talking.” I come closer, pressing the tip of the knife under his chin.

He lifts his hands higher. “Now, now—”

“Stop talking,” I repeat. I expected to have adrenaline pulsing through my veins, but I feel nothing of the sort. There’s a silence within me. Calm. This is what I came to do. There is no regret, no hesitation.

His Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “I loved you,” he says, ignoring my order. “You always meant so much to me. I regretted the day I sold you.”

I move to step behind him, keeping the blade press to the skin of his throat the entire time.

“What do you want?” he asks. There’s a hint of fear in his voice now. He knows I’m serious. “I’m sure we could work something out. I’ve got money. I could get you out of the country. You and your daughter.”

I push the knife a little harder against his skin, causing a trickle of blood to flow.

He laughs but it’s tight and uncertain. “Are you into even sicker games than you used to be, Iris my dear?”

He lifts his hand, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. The images on the screen keep flashing. He’s watching a scene where a woman is struggling, her arms bound, her mouth gagged. During the parts when the screen darkens, I can see our reflection imposed over the images. There’s a gleam of triumph in my eyes and a glimmer of despair in his.

“Let go of my hand,” I warn.

He tries to jerk my wrist down and away from his neck, but I just press the blade harder against him, and shake my head, reminding him of who has the power.

“You won’t do it,” he hisses. “You can’t. You haven’t got it in you. Despite your resistance and your rebellion, you loved what I did to you. You always will. You’re nothing but a worthless whore.”

Still standing behind him, I bend low and whisper in his ear. “Those are some strong words from someone with a blade pressed to his throat.” I press a little harder, creating a fresh dribble of blood to run down his neck and pool in the dip of his collarbone. He hisses, this time feeling some pain. “Tell me, Master,” I say, my lips moving over the tip of his ear. “Have you said your confession?”

And then, before he has the chance to struggle or fight back, I run the blade across his throat and watch as a spray of blood arcs through the air and splatters across the floor.

His arrogance allowed me to do it. He didn’t think I would and therefore he never even considered putting up a fight. I didn’t need the training provided by Barrett. Left alone without control, he was nothing more than a weak old man.

Moving away, I watch unaffected as his body slumps to the ground. I step over him, as he gurgles and splutters, gasping for air. There’s shock in his gaze. He didn’t think I would do it. He thought he still had some domination over me. Or maybe he thought there was a part of me that loved him. There isn’t.

He tries to say something, his mouth open and shutting, flapping futilely, but I don’t even turn as I walk out the door, leaving him to die in a pool of his own blood.

It’s what he deserves.

chapter twenty-nine

BERKLEY

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