Page 62 of Hunt me Darling

Dare chuckles as he steps up to my side. “What is it that Billy Lumos says? ‘Movies don’t create psychos, movies make psychos more creative.’”

I have to roll my lips between my teeth and bite them so I don’t join in on their humor.

The humor disappears from Truth’s face like a switch and suddenly he’s holding his knife pointed at Mark’s face. “Honestly though, I don’t even think Wes Craven could predict the level of your depravity.”

The glint of the blade catches my eye as Truth moves it down to Mark’s chest, pressing it against his skin and drawing it down. The fabric of Mark’s shirt parts, and blood wells up in its wake, accompanied by haunting whimpers.

Dare's eyes follow the path of the knife, and he smirks maliciously. “Hell, I’m even surprised our Little Darling caught your attention. After all, she’s a little old for you, right?”

I blink in disbelief at Dare's words, struggling to comprehend the twisted revelation.

“That's why you're really here. You shouldn’t have tried to go after what’s ours.” Truth’s modulated voice is a low growl.

“I didn’t know! I’ll leave her alone, I swear,” Mark cries out, his voice reflecting the pain he is experiencing.

“Whoa, wait, back up!” I say loudly, interrupting everyone.

Truth turns toward me, dismissing the man he has bleeding and whimpering. “You are ours, Little Darling.”

My heart is racing in my chest, my emotions feeling all over the place. That wasn’t what I was protesting about, that is a conversation for another time.

My mind is reeling, trying to process everything that's happening. Amidst the chaos, I struggle to focus on the strange revelation they've just made. I’m looking back and forth between Truth and Dare as I try to get my mind to catch up with what they said.

"That's not what I meant," I manage to say, my voice shaky but firm. "We can talk about that later. What did you mean, I’m a little old?"

Dare steps toward Mark, I can see his hands clenching as though he would love nothing more than to tear him apart with his bare hands. He glances at me before responding. “Ah yes, Mark here has a taste for young girls.”

Shock grips me, my mouth agape as I try to comprehend the sickening truth. "What?" I manage to utter, disbelief and revulsion overwhelming me.

Dare’s focus is back on Mark, his voice is pure rage, and I don’t blame him. “The younger the better right? It’s how they pay him.”

Disgust and anger flood me as I look at Mark’s wide, fearful eyes. But mixed in with his fear, the look of guilt. I feel like the world is crumbling around me, the weight of the darkness and horror too much to bear. “Excuse me?”

Truth growls, his attention also now focused completely on Mark. “In exchange for him doing their cleanup and making evidence disappear, they pay him by giving him young girls to do with as he wants.”

My heart feels like it's lodged in my throat, and my whole body trembles as I take in the horrifying truth about Mark's depravity. The dim light of the warehouse seems to dim even further, casting haunting shadows on the walls, adding to the sinister atmosphere of the room.

Dare reaches out and grabs Mark’s jaw, and I can see him digging his gloved fingers in, “And with his skills and connections, those girls are never seen again.”

Dare's grip on Mark's jaw tightens, and I can see the anger in his eyes, mirroring the fury I feel within myself. My mind struggles to process the heinous revelations about Mark's actions.

I feel sick, there is a faint buzzing, like a swarm of bees coming toward me. “He kills little girls?” I ask. I feel like the air is freezing in my lungs. It is a struggle to get air past the feeling of my heart pounding in my chest.

Dare glances back before returning his gaze to the bleeding and whimpering man in front of him. “Yes, Little Darling.”

My mind is a whirlwind of emotions as I try to comprehend the gravity of Mark's horrifying actions. The room seems to close in around me, suffocating me with its darkness. My heart races, and the buzzing in my ears intensifies, drowning out all other sounds.

Truth crosses his arms over his chest, the knife still in his hand. I could see the gleam of the blade flashing a reflection of the dim light illuminating the room. There is blood coating the blade. Mark’s blood. “He does much more than that, don’t you Mark? You call us psychos, but even we wouldn’t do what you do to the bodies of children.”

There is a ringing in my ears, loud and drowning out all other sounds. My vision goes black.

Chapter 32

Alex

Idon’tremembermoving.

I don’t remember somehow taking the knife from Truth.

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