15. Damien

Ikilled three kids fourteen years ago but that was different. I was the same age as them and they fucked with Trixie.

I'll deal with the girl later, but for now, I have one more target to deal with before my anniversary massacre can truly begin. He takes priority because Trixie is my number one goal. I need her to leave town with me after today and, if she doesn't want to leave or is angry about how I tied up our loose ends, I'll make her come with me. I have plenty of rope and duct tape to last a while. I'd prefer her willing though. She feels like she doesn't belong here. She's right. She doesn't because she belongs with me, by my side, and I'll make that happen. First, a lot of people have to die.

I ready the needle in my hand as I hear a commotion in the living room, knowing that Derek has returned from sending off his whore. I wait in the darkened hall as he walks out of the kitchen to the living room, holding a black trash bag to throw away the red plastic cups thrown all over the room.

"Everything good down there?" Derek yells, but continues to clean up even as he receives no response from the hall next to this one. "Todd?" he calls out to one of his friends, but still, the house is dead silent. "Bradley? Hey, dumbshits!" The walls in this place are thin so if they were still breathing, they'd be able to hear him. "Just because you're knee deep in pussy doesn't mean you can ignore me!" he yells, completely unaffected by the lack of response before he throws down the bag in frustration. "Fucking bitch."

Which bitch is he referring to? There are a lot of possibilities.

He pulls his cell out of his pocket before tapping a few buttons and putting it to his ear. He holds it there for a while, looking increasingly nervous. "Hey, Aurora. It's me. I was just calling to check up on you. Talon told me you weren't feeling well and that's why you didn't come to my party."

My eyes narrow as my ears heat from what I can only assume has to be cartoonized smoke pouring out of them. My mind spins until all the pieces suddenly fall into place. That girl was tied up in that room like they planned to have a victim, but the ropes were too short for her limbs for more than the tiny knots that held her body so tight her shoulders were sore when I cut them. The ropes were cut for the right length to tie up a petite woman instead of a preteen child.

Derek planned for the girl who went in that room to be my woman, my Trixie. Not only was he planning to rape her, but he was planning for him and all of his friends to do it. They were going to record it and post it on the internet for the whole world to see what happened to her.

I'm going to make him suffer for that choice.

"Call me back," he mutters before hanging up, shoving the phone in his pocket. "Dipshits, leave her tied up and come help me clean this stuff up!"

The silence rings through the house, close to that of tinnitus vibrating in my eardrums, and he stares down that hall. He senses the danger. It's written across his face as he glances toward me. He can't see me, but he knows something is happening.

"Elam!" he yells before he walks toward the other hall and I smirk.

Fucking dumbass. He would've had a better chance of escaping if he had run out the front door. It's a classic horror movie mistake. Sidney Prescott said it best. He has big-breasted bimbo energy.

I follow him down the hall as he walks and I smell the fear on him when he sees the door I left open just a crack.

"Guys? Are you in there?" More silence greets him and his hand shakes as he slowly pushes open the door to find the bloodbath I left behind. A grin pulls at my lips as he lets out a surprised gasp before screaming. "Oh, my god. Bradley!" He dashes inside and drops to the floor in front of the only one still breathing only a few feet inside. "What happened? Who did this?" He presses his hands to the gaping gut wound on his friend as blood slowly leaks out of his mouth. I'm surprised he's still breathing. He should've died already, but I'll fix that before I leave.

"Da-da-Damien…King." He manages to speak my name clear enough for him to understand and I grin as Derek's body goes stiff. His terror intensifies and I bet you anything he has no idea I'm here for him. "Damien!" The dumbshit, Bradley, yells as Derek's warning that I'm standing right behind him. Derek tries to turn around, but I grab his hair tight and stab the syringe into his throat before pushing the medicine in. I force him to stare at his dying friend as the tranquilizer starts to work. He fights it, clawing at my wrist and trying to kick and throw punches in my direction, but pain doesn't affect me anymore. I've been through too much. He could stab me in the balls and I wouldn't feel a thing. I'm numb to all physical feelings except pleasure and hunger.

After a minute, Derek's body falls slack and I toss him to the side before turning my eyes on his friend, Bradley.

He failed and he knows it. He couldn't save his friend. He can't save his own life either. I wouldn't have come after them in the first place if it wasn't for them planning to rape my girl.

Taking a knee in front of the fallen Bradley, I raise my knife and stab him right through the heart, killing him instantly.

Now, for Derek's punishment.

* * *

Gettinghim set up in Samantha's room wasn't very hard at all, not like how I expected it would be. All I needed was to tie him to the old kitchen table and turn it on its side to where he's upside down and wait for him to come to. The entire time, I sit in the chair that once housed Tiffany, but she's now on full display with her friends and all the others I've killed in the last few days. Every one of them has a spot on the wall and soon, Derek will join them. First, I want to make it hurt. Can't do that if he isn't awake though, can I?

He groans as he starts to come to, probably roused from his slumber by the sound of me sharpening my knife with my stone. His eyes slowly open as I continue running the stone up and down my knife. I worried that stabbing that guy in the eye with it would make it dull or break it off, but this blade is stronger than I assumed. It has an incredible quality to it, perfect for butchering rapists.

"What the…" He tugs on the ropes, but it does nothing for him. I learned a lot of things from my time in prison. So many people know so many things. I had a cellmate who was a real boy scout and he was constantly making knots with his shirts, trying to make sure he still knew how to do it in case he found a way to escape that required that particular skill. He never did. He was victim number eighty-nine. That was how I found out exactly how much pressure needed to be applied for the human eye to explode. It was quite the sight. "Where am I? Let me go!" Derek screams and I smirk behind my mask before raising my chin to look at him. "Are you a fucking idiot? I said let me go!"

Not an idiot at all. Just imagining how your mangled corpse will look between Tiffany and the spot reserved for Mrs. Sullivan.

I raise my mask up my face before smirking at the piece of shit who"s red in the face from being upside down. "You," he mutters as the wheels turn in his head. "You were at the festival with Aurora."

Seems like I'm not the only one who watches my woman. Good thing I'm already going to put him down.

I nod before pulling the mask down over my face. I'm not sure exactly why, but I want the pieces of shit who fucked her over to see my face before they die. I want them to know it was me and that it was all for her.

"Why?" he demands answers as I stand on my feet. Once to my full height, his entire body tenses. He knows who I am and who connects me to him so he knows what I'm capable of doing with him. I could theoretically take my time and dissect his body piece by piece, but honestly, I don't want to. I want to make it hurt so bad he wants me to kill him. Then, I want to get some sleep before the real excitement starts tomorrow. "Why are you doing this?" he asks, his voice broken with each syllable he speaks. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the same photograph I showed Tiffany and flash it at him. His eyes narrow as he examines it, but then all the color drains from his face. The life leaves his eyes and he breaks out into a sweat as he stares at the photo. "Aurora."

Maybe he is smarter than the Malibu Barbie wannabe. I tuck the photo back in my pocket before trailing the tip of my blade across his cheek. It's not enough to cut him, but enough to scare the shit out of him.

"Fuck," he groans as my blade runs over his neck, but he freaks. "Trust me, man. She's not worth it. I've known her my whole life and she…" he trails off as I cut down the length of his shirt to make sure he is bare for what I'm about to do. "She's a fucking freak! She always has been. It's just gotten worse over the years. The bitch is obsessed with death. Did you know she fucking touches herself to crime scene photos? She's a damn sicko!"

I did already know that, but how the fuck does he know about it?

I land a hard punch right across his face, unable to control myself. He rapes women, his friends tried to rape a kid, and he has the nerve to call Trixie a sicko? Fucking hypocrite. She's not sick. She's perfect exactly how she is. All of those things that he might think is a flaw, I see it for what it is. It makes her special, different from anyone else. That's why she's my girl and not someone else's. That and the fact that I'll cut the cock off any man who even looks at her suggestively.

"She reads the weirdest stuff, too. She reads these romance books about stalkers and kidnapping and women wanting to be raped. It's fucking disgusting."

Again, pot meet kettle.

Secondly, I did take a look at the selection of books she had in her room and, using her computer, I did a search on them. What he calls women wanting to be raped is actually consensual non-consent or dubious consent in different contexts. No woman wants to be raped, fictional or real. However, rape fantasies are a thing. It's about dominance, being so desired that the other person can't control themselves. It's also a form of trauma release for women who have been raped.

What he calls disgusting is actually an entire sub-genre of fiction. It's not just in romance, but also erotica and horror. What my girl reads is a mixture of the three genres, but from the books on her shelves, she primarily sticks with dark romance.

Personally, I find it hot as fuck that she likes to read those sorts of books. I bet they get her all worked up and wet for me. One day, I'm going to let her read her dark, dirty book while I fuck her tight cunt. I want to see how much faster she gets off from those nasty words written on the page. I want to know which scenes really make her want to be fucked. Is it the dark smut or maybe the torture scenes that tend to be within the pages of books like those?

I'm a dark and twisted motherfucker. It only seems fitting that my woman is at least a fraction of that.

I press the blade to his throat in warning and he immediately falls silent, his Adam's Apple rolling against the sharp edge in a way that is mesmerizing. I could easily kill him right here and right now with a slight flinch. Better not. I want to make his death hurt like a bitch.

"I'm sorry," he whispers brokenly as my knife lightly nicks the skin. A dot of blood forms against the sharp edge and I smirk. He may think he's sorry but he doesn't even know the meaning of the word yet. I trail my eyes up his form and grin like the cat that ate the canary. He still hasn't realized what I did to him while he was out. "What?" he asks as I pull the blade away from his throat.

I trail my blade up his chest to his belt as his eyes follow the move. As soon as he sees the blood on his jeans, he lets out a scream that rivals the way Tiffany did when I cut open her tits.

Too bad I already relieved him of his cock. Oh, well. He'll get over it or he won't. The choice is all his.

"What did you do?" he cries as he yanks on the ropes.

I had to be really careful when cutting off his penis. I didn't want him to bleed out yet so I heated up my blade so it would cauterize it while I removed him of his prized appendage. I'm not sure what he's so freaked out about. The thing was tiny, no bigger than my pinky. I feel really bad for any women he fucked. He doesn't strike me as the type that is interested in any sort of foreplay to get the girl off. Or, maybe his only interest of the sexual nature is raping unsuspecting women and little girls?

Perhaps the little girl diddlers were just his friends, but considering they were filming their amateur porn in Derek's house, I doubt it.

He looks up at me in horror. I want to do this in a way that will cause the maximum amount of pain with the least amount of bleeding. The less he bleeds, the longer he suffers. I know he won't be alive for long, but every second will matter.

Unlike his friends, he knows exactly why it"s happening and that he could've prevented it by not being a complete piece of shit.

I sink the blade into his gut and make sure not to go too deep. He roars with pain before it morphs into a growl.

"My parents are going to see to it that you and your little whore are gutted for this. It'll make even a psycho like you cry when you see what they plan out for little Aurora."

There are a few things most don't know about me. I'm impulsive and the number one way to take my anger from zero to a hundred is to threaten my woman.

Before I can even realize what I've done, I slam the blade in down to his spine and tug it down the length of his chest until he's cut open like a pig for slaughter. Blood squirts me across my chest and my mask as he screams. Reaching into the torn skin, I grab his intestines and pull them out before wrapping them around his head. He continues to bleed and cry even as I move to my feet, kicking him in the chin again and again.

Fucking bastard. He did that on purpose. He brought Trixie into it so I'd kill him faster than I intended. He wanted a quick death because he knew he wouldn't make it out alive.

I keep kicking him in the face. Not to kill but to inflict pain. I want it to hurt as much as possible and he just cheated me out of that.

Out of nowhere, he goes still and I step away, so much anger in me that I don't know what to do with it except to use it for more bloodshed.