45. Angel

Society likes to joke about women and their obsession with true crime television. Some women will state they watch it for the intrigue. Others say it is to get a heads up on what to look for in an attempt to not end up like the victims that are mentioned. Me? I always found a fascination with the gorey details they gave about the crimes. Though, I will say that the murder documentaries aren't exactly where my best ideas come from. Some are just pure ingenuity.

We still have one more guy to find after Brutus. Part of the plan is to get him to confess the name of the fucker. But given that he was such a hard target to get to, I really want to savor what I am about to do to him.

I pull out a blue thermos from the duffel bag. It is a portable kettle that can be charged up to boil water on the go. I pour a bottle of water into it and flick on the heating element. While I wait, I pull out a box of four inch nails and a hammer.

Messiah stands in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Brutus with a close eye. I know if something goes wrong, if Brutus somehow escapes those chains, that he is going to be there to protect me. It makes me braver as I open the box of nails and pull one out.

"Remember me?" I ask, standing in front of the fucker.

Brutus's wide eyes look me over and I know when they narrow that he knows exactly who I am. Odd considering most of the men pretended to have no knowledge of me.

"We are going to film a little video," I smile, stepping closer to him. "It is going to be fun."

His breathing picks up as I move closer. I twirl the hammer in my hand as I look from one leg to the other.

For a while after my attack, there were a lot of black spaces in my memory. As time went on, some things faded away but others reappeared in their place. I can remember the sting of the razor across my nipples. I remember Mikel's obsessive laughter as he squeezed my breast in his hand and dug the blade into my flesh. I can remember the pain when one of them slapped the fresh cuts across my thighs. I remember the pain of being sodomized as they laughed at me. And every bit of the pain has been channeled into all of the wounds I have given these men. Really, I am just returning the favor.

Pulling one of the nails from the box, I enjoy the struggle Brutus puts up as he attempts to wiggle out of the zip ties holding his hands. I press the nail against his leg, resting the top of the hammer on it for a moment as I glance up at him.

"One," I count.

I tap the head of the nail lightly. It is only enough to press through the thick denim of his jeans but he jumps, shouting out in pain that he isn't physically feeling yet.

"Two." Another tap.

His leg is shaking beneath the nail now pressing into his skin. Another tap and it will enter his leg. And I brought a large box of nails with me.

Pressing the head of the hammer against the nail, I smirk and give him a moment to simmer in the fear before making my move. My arm pulls back over my head, even if I miss the nail, this is going to fucking hurt.

"Of course," I pause and lower my arm. Brutus lets out an audible breath. "I may be persuaded to not kill you – if you do something for me. Yeah?"

Brutus nods. That was too fucking easy. Fucking pussy. Messiah steps up behind me and reaches down to yank the tape off Brutus's mouth. He pinches the edge of the fabric stuffed in Brutus's mouth and pulls it out. Brutus coughs as he looks between the two of us, his chin shaking as he tries to muster any words that may save him in this scenario.

"We are going to film a video," Messiah tells him. "You are going to look into the camera and admit that you killed all those other guys."

"What guys?" he asks.

"Your guys," I tell him. "You killed them, one by one, and cut off their cocks because you thought it was funny. They were stealing from you, and we both know the boss doesn't like stealing. Does he?"

Messiah digs his phone out of his pocket and opens the camera app, ready to record.

"No," Brutus says. "You are just going to kill me anyways."

"Who says?" I ask him, tilting my head. "Why do you think you were the last one? You aren't special. We needed a scapegoat. You were the perfect fit."

"Bullshit!" he spits.

Messiah's fist slams into his face and Brutus groans as blood begins to leak from his busted lip. My hand flies up and smacks Messiah in the chest as I glare up at him.

"Instinct, Baby," he says, holding up his hands as he steps back.

"You are going to tell the camera you did it," I continue, turning to Brutus, "And we have all the time in the world to help convince you to make that decision."

He is given a moment to consider his options, but the fuck is going to go out the hard way.

Sighing, I adjust the hammer in my hand and place the nail back on his thigh. There is no teasing this time. I nail the metal into his leg with two hard whacks. When he starts to scream, Messiah places the tape back over his mouth. I lean down to get another nail and repeat the process.

Tap. Scream. Tap. Scream. The blood is starting to soak his pant leg and he wiggles against his bonds. As I am reaching down for a fifth nail, his foot gets just enough leverage to kick my leg. I fall over, my palm scraping across the rough concrete. Messiah surges forward, but before he can reach Brutus, my fist slams into Brutus's cock. Messiah freezes, chuckling as he reaches down to help me up. Brutus screams behind his gag, coughing against the pain surging through his lower body.

An idea hits me, and I smile as I turn toward the duffel bag of items. I grab a pair of scissors and the portable kettle before walking back to my unfortunate plaything.

"Now, are you going to tell the camera what you did?" I ask.

He shakes his head, mumbling a curse behind the tape.

"Alright."

Reaching down, I unbutton his jeans and pull down his fly. Using the scissors, I slice open his boxers just enough to show the flaccid cock hidden beneath a thick patch of hair. His eyes are wide, his face growing red, as I untwist the cap on the kettle. Steam wafts up from the boiling hot water inside, and I give him one moment to change his mind. When he doesn't, I dump the boiling water down onto his crotch.

Messiah winces as the water soaks the front of Brutus's pants. The bits of flesh I can see turn an angry shade of red. His thighs burn where the wet fabric leaves the hot water pressed against his skin.

"Can you fill it back up?" I hand the kettle to Messiah and he takes it from me as I lean down for the hammer.

"Like I said," I remind him. "We have all night."