21. Atone With Blood

After my eventful night and getting the go-ahead from the boss, I have more pep in my step when I stroll into the office today. The lady sitting at the front desk is wearing a baggy dress shirt that's more wrinkled than a man's ball sack. But not my ball sack. My ball sack is beautiful. Her hair is balled up on her head in something I think is supposed to be a bun but looks more like a bird's nest. She could be the stunt double for Miss Trunchbull from the movie Matilda. My mother would have me and my brother watch it whenever we had snow days. She would set us up with popcorn and juice and have us hang out in the office while she worked. Jeremy always wanted to watch something else, but that movie was one of her favorites. Since Jeremy was Dad's favorite and I was Mom's, she took pity on me.

"Good morning, Mr. King," she greets me with a smile that shows off her lipstick-stained teeth.

Wait… What's this old hag's name? I can't remember. Was it Agog? Agony? A… Agape? One thing is for sure, she makes me Agitated.

Typically, I don't reply when I walk by in the mornings, yet she still yearns for some semblance of appraisal from me. This must be because of something my goodie-two-shoes brother did for her. But today is a new day. Today is the day I fuck shit up, royally.

"You must be ingesting too much of that asbestos-laced lipstick, and it's killing your brain cells because I'm not sure why you don't take a fucking hint," I snap with a smile.

"What, wha, wha…? Mr. King!" she gasps, appalled.

I march to the receptionist's desk, lean over, and hiss, "Take. A. Fucking. Hint." I do all this with a grin plastered on my face so people think we're having a cordial conversation. They'd have no idea I'm tearing this woman apart. They'll get their chance when I'm ready. "I don't want you to suck my cock. Stop being so cheery, and stop fucking being so irritatingly nice. It gets on everyone's nerves. They just don't want to tell you because they're afraid you might have a heart attack and die in front of the patients."

For once in her pathetic life, her maw is wide open but she isn't saying a word. Rolling up the straw wrapper to my iced latte, I toss it into her mouth. The simple act causes my chest to rumble with silent laughter as she sputters and spits, trying to not choke on the sodden piece of paper.

"You should close your mouth before more trash lands in there," I quip as I prance away, gulping down my sweet caffeinated concoction. Today is going to be a glorious day.

Sadly, the morning is duller than usual. Part of that may be because I don't have it in me to torture any of these sad, desperate saps. My mind constantly drifts to my little freak. Regardless of how much I tried to administer my own brand of medical treatment, I couldn't do it. Regardless of what these people looked like, whether it be black hair, tons of piercings, and/or tattoos, my mind still wandered to my living dead girl. Maybe it's because these denizens wouldn't enjoy having sex in a grave? But Monica would! A genuine smile stretches my lips so wide I probably look like the Joker. Am I becoming a fucking softy?

Restless energy is like static dancing across my flesh. I'm jumping out of my skin. I need to do something. Anything to lessen this constant itch for violence. Drugs always help in quelling this infliction, but now isn't the time to smother my penchant for destruction. The patience I've reserved leading up to this stunning performance is wearing thin. So, just because I can, I swipe everything off my desk. Papers fly, pens scatter, and a stapler crashes. A glass ball weight rolls across the floor like a flat tire due to a chunk of it breaking off in the fall. The uncomfortable urgency pops and fizzles out, filling me with instant relief.

However, it's back again in mere seconds, with a vengeance. I can't wait any longer. Sampson's father, Todd Senior, is visiting today around noon. Hell, he might actually be here, with as little as I pay attention. Senior was a friend of my father's. His being here is the cherry on top of a very fucked up sundae, making it the perfect time to end this charade.

My shiny black shoes slap against the floor in sync with the pulse-pounding at my temple as I stomp to the front of the building. It's time. The waiting room is overpacked with exhausted moms and screaming children. It's a bit chaotic, but I don't let that stop me from forcing my way through the crowd and yanking the front door open.

"Everyone out!" I yell, pointing outside, expecting everyone to listen. But they don't.

Apparently, I didn't shout loud enough to be heard over the chaos of children and talking moms. A few glance at me with confusion marring their features, and yet they remain on their asses. My face is burning in obvious anger, and my top is about to blow when… Ageist? Algae? Fucking hell! The agitator—the front desk lady—appears from the storage room.

When she notices my position, her eyes widen. "What are you doing, Dr. King?"

I clench my fist at my side and puff out my chest, my finger still pointing in the direction I want everyone to go. My anger at the inconvenience of this disobedient crowd is building to a crescendo, and I'm not willing to tamper it down.

"Get the fuck out!" I roar. That quiets the room. But still, no one moves. "Now, or I'm calling the police for trespassing."

That last part does it. The moms talking softly to their kids aren't being soft anymore. No. They grab their kids' wrists and hurriedly drag them over the threshold to their cars. Most stumble on their feet, but after a quick glance at my face, no one dares to slow down. My statement of calling the police is hilarious, considering I see a cop car in the parking lot. Senior's here.

"You can't do this," the receptionist urges from my side. "You can't kick all of these patients out."

"Did I ask you what I can and can't do?"

I cut her a fiery side-eye. Her mouth opens and closes as if she's trying to find the words that will change my mind, but all she does is make herself look like a fish out of water, gasping for air. This is the nicest I can be. I don't have to tell anyone to leave. These idiots don't know the favor I'm granting them. I can just leave them to suffer the cleanup. I release the door, realizing I'm giving these people a courtesy I wouldn't usually offer. I'm basically mother fucking Teresa. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Sampson won't be happy with this," the receptionist whines.

I turn on her, looking her dead in the face when I say, "You're the reason why the Cullen Law was invented." Then I grip her throat to keep her from saying another word. She gasps and sputters as I walk her backward. Her eyes are beginning to bulge from their sockets when the door closes after the last patient scrambles out of the door.

"You are the most annoying person I've ever met," I seethe, liberating some of the steam rising from the inferno in my core. "You always have something to say. And then!" I squeeze a little tighter around her neck, loving the feeling of her windpipe struggling to take in the air. "And then there's the shit you were spewing to the nurses about my woman," I scoff. When I detect a flash of confusion, I realize she probably doesn't know who my woman is. "That woman with the long, white hair? The one that's ten times more beautiful than all of you miserable sacks of skin in this office? Her name's Monica. And she's mine. The things you all said about her being a product of her mother fucking the dead was absolutely deplorable," I spit in her face.

If she wants to reply, I won't let her. Honestly, I don't give a fuck what she has to say. We stop our little violent waltz when her back slams against the container housing the fire extinguisher. The tempered glass rattles against the metal casing, giving me an idea.

"Glass could be embedded in your face, but it still wouldn't make you shine like a diamond. You're a pathetic human being that's just as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside." Her arrogance and superiority complex ooze from her pores every time she passes judgment.

My words must've triggered something in her because she juts her hands in front of her, grappling at my clothes, clawing at my forearms. Her eyes water, leaking down her face in black stripes from her caked mascara. The sight makes that pressure in my chest ebb slightly. It's not because I have sympathy. This is a snack to feed the ravenous beast inside me, but he will only be satiated for a few moments. My monster and I both need more, so I yank her forward a bit before slamming her back into the casing.

She makes contact with a loud bang and goes limp in my hold. Unfortunately, the glass isn't broken. Taking a second look, I realized my aim was off, and her skull mostly hit the metal frame, as evident from the smattering of crimson. Well, that's not going to do. I turn her around and maneuver her into a makeshift battling ram with her face. The beautiful sonnet of shattering glass is like a symphony of release. Jagged shards are still randomly sticking out around the edges, so I use her head to clear the surrounding pieces. I'm not about to risk cutting myself when I pull out the fire extinguisher. She doesn't scream once during the whole process.

That's odd.

I toss her lifeless body to the side, and she lands on her back, revealing a long shard jutting from her windpipe. Blood already begins pooling around her. I should've jammed something in her throat sooner then maybe she would've shut the fuck up.

My attention snags on the top half of a set of dentures lying on the floor. I was thinking they would make a great paperweight when I realized where they came from. I should have checked sooner to see if the old hag had dentures. I could have shut her up with my dick. There's no way I would have stuck my junk anywhere near those lipstick-covered teeth. Eh, it's too late now. I glance at the shrew's bloody lips and weigh my options…do I have time to fuck a corpse's mouth?

Maybe another time.

Shrugging, I yank out the red cylinder. "Now, for the main event."

I roll my neck, and I can't differentiate between the cracking of my bones and the cracking of the glass as I step on it, making my way to Sampson's office. He must not have heard the commotion because the door to his office at the end of the corridor is still shut. I exaggeratedly swing the extinguisher in my right hand and whistle some made-up cheery tune as my destination gets closer.

"You're in for a real treat, buddy," I mutter, rearing my leg back and kicking the door open. Using door knobs is for pussies.

The scene before me must be as surprising to me as my sudden entrance is to them. Sampson and his father are Eiffel Towering Nurse-Fucks-Alot. They're holding hands above her, Senior in her front and Junior in her back. Junior's clothes remain intact, but his pants pool around his ankles. I'm guessing that's for him to quickly answer the door if someone knocks or he gets an urgent phone call. However, the nurse and Senior are entirely naked, with wrinkly balls and big titties bouncing all over the place. Seeing Senior's scrotum, I know they were the inspiration for Ajar's dress.

"Wow." All eyes are on me. The smell of sex and incest hangs heavy in the room. "Four out of five on form. I would've given you more points if your fingers weren't intertwined and Seniors balls here weren't trying to high-five my forehead from across the room. Almost like a yo-yo, they are."

I pause, ready to disclose even more fascinating tidbits, when my ears perk up. The haunting, ambient song that greets me seems out of place with the vile scene before me. Is this…Enya?

Confusion must cross my features as I take a step forward. When my eyes land on the nurse's bare ass, I have to laugh. "I get it! You're playing Enya because he's Enya booty hole!" Raising my eyebrows, I wait, expecting everyone to laugh. I mean, all their mouths are already open from shock. Well, of course, Cathy's is open, but hers is stuffed full of dick. She's forgiven. But the other two? When Sampson motions to object to my off-color humor, I cover my mouth with my forearm, lift the fire extinguisher, and pull the trigger.

Wait. Was he going to object or invite me to join? I mean, she's got another hole available.

Guess I'll never know because white mist blankets them like snow, and the room erupts into chaos. Through the chemical sludge, I see Sampson Senior close his mouth and eyes. Releasing hands with his son, he pinches the bridge of his nose to prevent himself from inhaling the toxins with one hand while the other slaps at Cathy's head. Grunting, she releases his dick, revealing red teeth marks around the base of his shaft. Cathy must've bit down on him when I surprised them with my fireman cosplay. Once freed from Nurse Hoover, he sets his sights on me. The irritants of the chemicals from the extinguisher don't seem to disable him because his next move is to come at me, crouched and with his head down. It's obvious he's readying to ram me to the floor. That's the only way he could get the advantage over me, and that's definitely not happening. I'd rather not get tea-bagged by sloppy nuts. However, when he begins his mad dash at me, I sidestep in a move reminiscent of a bullfighter avoiding a blustering bovine. My hose splutters the last of its contents as he stampedes past me, so I give him a parting gift, throwing an extinguisher at his back. It makes contact with a loud thunk, and I'm rewarded with a peculiar huff from the old man as he stumbles to the ground, and the wind gets knocked out of him.

Witnessing that beautifully disgusting ballet seems to give the last two a wake-up call because the mass of limbs and naked body parts, or my two remaining victims, untangle and no longer resemble a human centipede. Cathy coughs as she stands, not paying any mind to her nakedness. Sputtering, she drags her eyes from Sampson, me, and the open door. Quickly, she makes her decision and runs for the door. When she's right where I want her, I extend my leg and trip her. Arms flailing, she lands on Senior, who mimics a turtle that has landed on his back, effectively knocking the wind from him again.

I don't have a chance to admire my handiwork before Sampson Jr.'s fist comes at my face. I dodge him just in time to miss my nose, and instead, it glances off my shoulder. He may have had a better chance of connecting with my face if not for the chemicals burning his eyes. That really sucks for him because not getting to connect with my face throws off his momentum. He flies past me out the doorway, trips over his dad and the nurse, and then lands on that outstretched fist with an audible snap. Junior releases a piercing shriek, rolling over to his back, revealing his forearm, which is bent at an odd angle. That's where that noise came from.

Damn, that must've hurt!

Nurse Fucksalot scrambles on the floor with Sampson Sr., and it looks like they're playing naked twister. Jr's pants fall back down to his ankles, exposing his schlong, adding to the chaos. I gingerly step into the hall, careful not to slip in the foam. Not wanting to miss this glorious opportunity, I squat down to Jr.'s level and grab him by the balls, squeezing. The pain helps to get his attention back on me and off his arm. Sure, his sack is sweaty and covered in sex juice, but I feel this method has a certain…je ne sais quoi.

"Get up," I order, but either he's not listening, or he can't hear me over his own yelling.

His eyes are wide from pain and fear. I run my tongue along my teeth and smile, enjoying how, after all these years, I've been able to turn the tables. Growing up, he and my brother used me for their entertainment. I can't remember one kind moment he's ever offered me. Too bad he's not going to be able to learn from his past deeds because I'm not a fucking after-school special.

Tilting my head, I release a low chuckle. Sampson is looking at me like I've grown two heads. His nuts roll between my fingers like a pair of Japanese meditation balls. I take one between my thumb and forefinger and squeeze. Then, I feel a pop. Fuck! Too much!

His screams ring in my ears, piercing, and I need it to stop.

"Nooooo," a roar reverberates from behind me. I see Senior pushing Nurse Fucksalot off him as he attempts to scramble to his feet. Todd Senior is not terribly unfit for being in his late sixties. However, it's amusing to watch him flounder. Especially while naked and angry.

The pressure is building in my temples from all the moving parts. I'm not sure I can control all these people. It's probably best to reduce the risk of something going awry. Maybe I'll show a little bit of mercy and deal with the doctor first. Sampson puts up little fight as I yank him up by the head. His attempt to get away is pretty lackluster. However, he's probably in a lot of pain.

I bring my lips to his ear and whisper, "Jeremy's been saving you a spot in hell." Then I sharply twist his neck. There's a soft crack before silence.

Ahh! Sweet relief.The strains of another serene Enya song float in the air like residual foam particles from the fire extinguisher… and I couldn't think of a better soundtrack for my next act.

"I wish we had more time to chat, but I wasn't prepared for such a large party." I release Sampson Junior, letting him crumple to the floor. I look up in time to find Daddy-O coming at me again, and I have just enough time to pull back my fist and place a blow to the side of his temple. He falls straight back like a plank, lying motionless next to his dead son. "Damn. Missed the opportunity to yell timber."

Cunty Cathy is all that's left, and she's whimpering as she crawls backward like a human spider, trying to find a way out of this chaos. I almost forgot about her. "I'm sorry, you're in the thick of it now, Karen. There's no way out for you."

The more my smile expands, the wider her eyes grow. I march toward her, determined to get her out of my way. I don't have anything against her, except she chose to fuck the wrong dicks at the right time. Before she gets farther away, I kick her under the chin, snapping her head back. Her silicone boobs don't even jiggle when she collapses backward on the floor with her legs folded beneath her.

She's still awake, which is a bit impressive. "Pweease," she begs as she spits blood, then attempts to sit. There are red streaks on her lips and teeth. She probably bit through her tongue. I lift my foot but place it back down. I've never gotten a BJ from a chick with no teeth, and I've never gotten one from a chick without a tongue. Would that feel good? I mean, tongue action is half the fun. Or I could kill two whores with one bullet and fuck the face of a chick with no teeth and no tongue. I eye the naked, quivering nurse as I debate, knocking her teeth out. I shrug my shoulders and conclude I have no time. Guess that's going on the bucket list. She's crying, still unable to right herself so I pick my foot up and place my sole on her forehead, then push her head back against the floor.

"Oh, Karen, I mean Cathy, right?" I ask, not caring what her answer is but wanting her to know that I purposefully used the wrong name this whole time.

"Yes, yes," she blubbers. Her crying is grating on my nerves. Luckily, I won't have to listen to it much longer.

"Sadly for you, I can't leave any witnesses." Then I stomp on her face. The noise of bone crunching and smooshing of brain matter satisfies the bubble of tension in my chest.

I survey my messy surroundings and breathe in a sigh of happiness. "Damn, I really wanted to spend more time with them."

Jeremy's lifeless foot is in my path, so I kick it out of the way. If I can't play with you and give you the torment you deserve, then I'll fuck with you in the afterlife, asshole.

Sampson Senior is passed out at my feet, naked as the day he was born. I know he's old, but damn, I didn't hit him that hard. Crouching down to get on his level, I put two fingers to his neck to see if there was any way he could be dead. A rhythmic thrum hums beneath my touch, and as if the universe is finally in my favor, Sampson Senior takes in a sharp breath. He's still alive.

My lip twitches up at the corner. "Looks like it's my lucky day."