51. Messiah

The post nut bliss only lasts for a few moments. As soon as Angel speaks, my head snaps in Mark's direction. His beady fucking eyes are staring at her.

She slides her shirt back over her head as I tuck myself back into my pants and move toward him. All the shit this fucker has already done, staring at my girl is beyond the last mistake he is going to make.

"Are you staring at my girl, fucker?" I taunt him, leaning down to get into his face.

He doesn't attempt to deny it or plea for mercy. He only stares back at me with those hateful, beady little eyes.

"Are you fucking looking at my girl, fucker?" I shout louder, pushing my face closer to his.

"Neighbors," Angel reminds me calmly, reaching forward to start another video on the laptop.

A few minutes later, the timer in the kitchen dings and Angel jumps up to pull the pie from the oven. Mark passed out after I cut his dick off, so I am not sure if he is fully aware of the ingredients of his last meal. I throw my fist into his face while Angel works in the kitchen.

"Keep your eyes off her," I warn, kicking him once more for good measure.

Angel cuts a piece of the pie and puts it on a plate, giving it a few minutes to cool before bringing it over to Mark.

"Now, like the good American justice system, we are offering the death row inmate one final meal before his execution. Due to time delays, special requests were not able to be upheld. But I made a pie specially for you."

She shoves the plate into his face and his eyes turn down to look at it. From the outside, it looks like a normal Shepherd"s pie. I can see the question in Mark's face as she leans over and pulls the tape from his mouth. As soon as his lips are free he rears back and spits at her. She dodges the glob, but he doesn't dodge my fist when it collides with his jaw. My knuckles split open and Mark groans as he begins to fight against his bindings.

"Eat the fucking pie," I growl in his ear. I grip his hair, yanking his head up.

He doesn't listen. Angel watches him calmly as he struggles in the chair. My patience is shorter than hers. I grab my gun from the coffee table and smack him on the side of the head. The blow is enough to put him in a daze for a moment. His head baubles on his shoulders and Angel smiles, picking up a piece of the pie with the fork and holding it out to him.

"Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," she tells him.

The fucker naturally chooses the hard way. Sadly for him, I know how to deal with fucks that don't want to listen. Digging through my bedside drawer, I pull out a retracting baton and come back to the living room. Angel waits patiently as I wrestle with Mark to get the handle of the baton lodged between his teeth so he can't close his mouth. Wrapping one arm around his neck, I hold his head steady as she begins to shove forkfuls of dick pie down his gullet.

He coughs and chokes as the hot meat slides into his mouth. Most of the food falls back onto his bloody lap. Angel grabs a second slice and feeds him in bigger chunks, cramming the mixture as far into his mouth as she can. By the time she makes it to the third slice, Mark is struggling against my hold and has bitten a dent into the handle of the baton. That doesn't matter, he is going to eat that whole fucking penis pie and then he is going to thank my woman for baking it for him.

"Tell her it was good," I growl at him.

He mumbles, coughing the best he can to try and expel the bites of food that he inhaled into his lungs.

"Was it good?" I ask him.

He only wiggles against me. Angel sits patiently in front of him, waiting for the response that I am going to beat out of him whether he likes it or not.

"Was it good?" I yell in his ear.

Angel holds the fork up to inspect it before leaning forward and slapping the flat piece of metal against the hole where his cock once was. Mark shouts out, fighting harder against me.

"Tell her it was good," I threaten again.

Angel threatens to pop him with the fork and he concedes, mumbling against the baton in his mouth. When I yank it out from beneath his teeth, he coughs and groans.

"It was good," he pants.

Angel smiles and stands, taking the plate back to the kitchen.

"I am kind of bored at this point," Angel admits.

It is late evening now and we are waiting until we deem it safe enough to carry Mark out of the building. We need to wait for the halls to be clear. I don't think he is going to be able to walk too well considering the missing appendange.

"Just want to shoot him?" I suggest.

She stares at Mark for a moment. "Eh, I made him eat his dick. You can shoot him."

Before midnight, we cover up Mark's bloody crotch the best we can, I pistol whip him a few times, and we haul his stumbling ass out of the apartment.

He is better known than the rest of the fucks Angel took out. His body is going to have to be buried deep if we want to make sure people – and Charles – don't come looking. Angel is quiet as I turn the radio up in the car and we drive across the city to a place I know where we can shoot him and dump the body without anyone looking.

In the end, he doesn't even protest as I raise the gun to his skull and pull the trigger.

I roll his body down into a ditch covered in thick vines and Angel drives the car slowly out of the sandy soil while I kick clean the tire tracks left behind. When it is all said and done, it is early in the morning and Angel has a look of relief on her face I have never seen before.

"You good, Baby?" I run my hand across her hair as she turns and smiles at me.

"I did it," she said. "I actually got them all."

"You did it," I smile at her. "You fucking psycho."

She giggles as she tucks her hands into her pockets and looks around the dark trees surrounding us.

"Ice cream?" I ask, turning the key in the ignition.

"Pizza."

We order out a pizza from a trash twenty-four hour shop and drive to an empty beach on Lake Michigan to watch the sun come up. Laying out on the hood of my car, we take note of the three stars that are stubborn enough to shine through Chicago's light pollution. We talk about nothing and everything.

It feels like the first real date I have been on with her and I can't help but think how many more I want to have. As the sun starts peaking over the horizon, I can see the way Angel's eyes brighten with the daylight. The weight she had carried on her shoulders is gone, blown away with that bullet I put in Mark's head. Reaching over, I take her hand and bring it to my lips.

"You going to marry me, psychopath?" I ask.

A chuckle escapes her as she turns to me, narrowing her eyes as she pretends to think about it for a moment.

"Can we have pie at the wedding instead of cake?"

"Anything but fucking meat pies," I tell her.

Whatever my girl wants, I'll give it to her.

"No, I think I am going to make a meat pie for Friday night dinner for the rest of our lives," she jokes.

"I rescind my proposal." I drop her hand and shove her playfully toward the edge of the car.

She pushes back and I pretend to try and get away until she rolls on top of me. My hands brush the hair back from her face, and I lean up and kiss the tip of her nose.

"I'll marry you," she smiles. "Stalker."

"You better, you filthy little Angel."