Chapter 34

GIOVANNI

T wo days, six hours and fifteen minutes. That was how long it had been since I’d seen Nova. That was also how long I’d been torturing Simon.

After the paramedics came and took Chuck’s body away, I dropped Memphis and Nova off at her house and came here. To the unused wine cellar under an old house at the back of our property.

Atlee got Simon out of there before the cops came. There was no way in hell we were handing him over to anyone else to deal with. That motherfucker was ours.

A lot of blood had been spilled in this place, some innocent, some not. But this fucker’s blood would rain on the walls until there was nothing left to cut from his body. It wasn’t because he stalked Nova or tried to kill her twice. Even killing her friend didn’t warrant this kind of pain. He would be killed for any one of those things alone. This torture was for one thing, and one thing only.

When Nova looked at me and said, “this is all your fault.”

She wasn’t talking to me when she said that. She was blaming herself. And this prick made her feel that way. Simon took something from her that I could never give back.

None of this was her fault. But some of it was mine.

What I found in the secret compartment in Atlas’s room proved that. My brother had trophies. Bracelets, rings, and stuff from various girls. And my mother’s necklace. The one I watched her put on the day she died.

My entire childhood was a big fat fucking lie. My father still didn’t see me, Romeo was probably the only real brother I had, and the brother I did idolize, more than likely killed our mother. Everything was fucked up.

At least The Lost Souls backed off. Apparently, I proved myself when Simon went after Nova. They weren’t worried about her safety anymore, despite what Kato thought. So, there was that.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Atlee stopped at the bottom of the stairs and eyed me. “You look like you stepped out of a horror movie.”

I was sure I did. Didn’t really care. But I could guarantee Simon looked worse.

The mound of flesh strapped down to the stone slab in front of me was barely human anymore. He didn’t even sound human. The only sounds he could make were gargled words and broken screams.

The first thing I did was cut his tongue out so I didn’t have to listen to his fucking excuses. I took his hands with a rusty hacksaw an hour later, then I moved on to more painful things. Skinned his forearm, needles under his toenails, and I pulled out a couple of teeth. Every ounce of pain, or drop of blood I pulled from his broken body was done for her.

Novalee Ford would never be hurt by anyone again.

Atlee walked over and scanned my work. “What’d you do with his cock?”

“It’s in his ass.”

I had to use a steel rod to shove it up there, but I got it in.

That was where most of the blood dried on my clothes came from. Cauterizing the wound before he bled out was not easy. I should’ve let him bleed out, but Nova’s words kept ringing through my head.

“It’s all your fault.”

Atlee let out a sigh. “There’s not much left to fuck with is there?”

I don’t know what he was complaining about? He was the one who cut off his toes and took a blow torch to his skin. The smell of burned flesh made me want to throw up, but not Atlee. He flipped the fucker over and fucked him. With both himself and then a bat. That shit was twisted.

“He can still feel.” I grabbed a screwdriver and stabbed it in his thigh, making Simon let out a mangled scream. “See.”

“Fair enough.” Atlee nodded. “Has he begged to die yet?”

“I’m sure he tried.”

Simon couldn’t really talk. His eyes said a lot though. They way they stared up at me, silently pleading. He was done.

I however, was not. Simon Fisher destroyed something I loved. In return I would obliterate him. And I wouldn’t stop until every last sign of humanity was gone. He would die looking like the monster she thought he was.

“I’m not sure there’s much left to take. His hair?”

“You can have that if you want.” I looked down at the broken face staring back at me. “I want his eyes.”

The last thing I would take from Simon would be the first thing he used to caress my woman. How many times did this prick look at her the way I did? Did he watch her ass sway when she walked away, or wonder what she looked like under her clothes? I know he kissed her, that’s why I burned his lips off. But his eyes… those he used to fuck her.

Atlee didn’t say a word when I picked up a razor blade. He was too busy singing Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows while tracing Simon’s hairline.

Whatever fight was left in Simon’s body he channelled into closing his eyelids when I lowered the razor blade.

Not that it did him any good, but I couldn’t blame him for trying. There wasn’t much else he could do. His head was strapped down and immobilized and limbs were either broken or gone. Closing his eyes was the only defence he had. A defence that was quickly taken away with a speculum that Atlee had stolen from the ophthalmologist.

The first slice caused a clear fluid to ooze out as the roundness at the front of his eye deflated a bit. The liquid was thicker than water and warm to the touch. It made cutting deeper difficult. The razor blade kept slipping through my fingers.

Atlee cutting into his forehead wasn’t helping. Blood trickled down into where I was working, until I had to stop and wipe my hands off.

Simon screamed and wriggled as best he could. Neither of us stopped. We didn’t even pause. I was going to enjoy every last bit of his pain.

The next couple of cuts had a soft crunch, almost like someone was eating chips nearby. His eye spread open as I continued slicing through layer after layer. Then I got to the pupil and iris, which I plucked out and held in the air.

Simon’s iris wrapped around my finger like a wet tendon sliced off a steak.

“Damn,” Atlee looked up from his crouched position. “That’s fucked up.”

I rolled my eyes down to the scalp he had begun to tear free. “Really?”

“What?”

“You have a bloody mat of hair in your hand, and you think this is fucked up?”

“Hey, I have a thing with eyes, okay?”

That actually explained a lot. I’d seen Atlee do some pretty messed up shit, but never anything to eyes. In fact every time someone put drops in their eyes, he left the room.

“But you’re okay with this?”

“Oh, I ain’t watching you.” His lip curled. “I got my own shit to do.”

Atlee went back to the task at hand and continued singing his fucked up song.

That was when I realized how far I’d gone. I wasn’t the guy that tortured someone like this. I’d kill them for sure, but this was sadistic. The odd thing was, I didn’t care. I’d do it all again, for her. And I hadn’t spoken to her since that night. Nova called a couple of times. I didn’t answer.

I didn’t know how she was or what she was doing. I told myself that I was giving her time to grieve, but it was more than that. It was her and I, and the things that would happen to her if I was in her life. She was safer away from me, but I still wanted her. No, I needed her.

My phone vibrated with a text.

Nova: I’m at voodoo island. Please come and see me.

I stared down at my screen for a minute, desperately wanting to answer, but unable to make myself type in the words.

Giving up, I grabbed a cloth to wipe my hands and watched Atlee peel Simon’s scalp down his skull.

The question came out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Have you talked to Nova?”

He stopped and rolled his eyes up. “You haven’t called her yet?”

“No.”

“Why not? You know she’s worried about you.”

That was exactly why I couldn’t face her.

I shrugged. “I was busy.”

Yeah, he wasn’t buying that.

Atlee stood up and dropped the scalpel on the slab beside Simon’s head. “What’s up, Gio?”

Where did I start? The bullshit I thought about Carissa for all these years? How I suspected Aldo had something to do with my mother’s murder, or that he was probably involved in Nova’s sister’s rape? None of that compared to the question weighing on the back of my mind.

“What if I was wrong about Atlas?”

That made his brow rise. “Did you find something?”

“I think he was involved in my mother’s death.” Maybe it was his voice I heard and not Aldo’s.

“I mean…” Atlee shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me, but…” he huffed out a sigh. “That doesn’t mean you were wrong. Atlas was an asshole. I fucking hated him, Darry hated him, half the goddamn town hated him. He was a sick fuck… but to you, he was something else. He was your brother.”

“Yeah, but that was a lie.”

It was all fake. Some kind of game Atlas got off on. It had to be. If he was the person everyone said he was, then he couldn’t have cared about me. That’s what hurt the most. For years I’d been defending him, for what? To find out it was all bullshit and I was just his puppet.

“Was it a lie?” Atlee asked. “Of all the fucked up shit I’ve seen Atlas do, he never once fucked with you. Hell, maybe you were the only person he gave a shit about? Maybe that was his way of fucking with you, I don’t know. But I do know that you are the only person he wasn’t an asshole to. So, no, Gio, you weren’t wrong about Atlas. He just wasn’t a monster to you.”

I got where he was coming from but… “I did all that crap to Nova.”

“Of course you did. Her brother killed yours…”

“And her sister was raped.” I interrupted.

Not once did Nova hold that against me. She even went so far as to apologise for what I lost. Would I change anything if I could go back? No.

“Maybe?” Atlee nodded. “But she let that go. Can you do the same for her?”

I could never forgive Kato. Despite what Atlas may have done, Atlee was right. He was something else to me. But could I let it go with Nova…

“I don’t know?”

“Do you love her?”

I looked down at the bloody broken man I had tortured, for her, then back up at Atlee.

“Yes.” That was the first time I’d said that out loud. It felt good.

“Does anything else matter?”

No, it didn’t.

“Go,” Atlee tipped his chin towards the stairs. “I got this.”