31. thirty-one

Rafael turns to face me, and there is no denying the excitement in his eyes. But it is far outweighed by the look of concern on his face.

‘I'm okay.' I mouth the words, giving him the permission he needs to continue.

He walks to the kitchen and returns with the knife block—an arsenal of tools for him. Mulling his fingers over the handles, clearly weighing his options of torture, he selects the short paring knife.

"How many times did you force yourself on her?" He glides the tip of the knife down the front of Guillermo's throat.

"Once?" Raf flicks the tip of the knife through the skin on Guillermo's chest creating a small, shallow wound. He flicks it again as he asks, "Twice?"

Guillermo's nostrils flare and he grits his teeth as Rafael teasingly circles the table, "One mark of my knife, for every crack you left on her soul."

Rafael takes his time before inflicting his next wound. The wait clearly as tortuous for Guillermo as the blade slicing through his skin.

"Are we getting close?" Rafael places the blade against his upper thigh. "Ten?"—flick—"Eleven?"—flick—"Twelve?"—flick—"Thirteen?"

Flick. Flick. Flick.

Blood oozes from each of the tiny cuts, Guillermo's body slowly staining red and blood dripping down his sides as Rafael continues to count. With each increasing number Rafael says, more blood flows from Guillermo. Yet, I am the one turning red.

Rage courses through my veins. Pure unadulterated hatred fueling me with a need to inflict pain unlike anything I've ever felt before.

"Fifty?" Raf plunges the short knife into the fat of Guillermo's gut causing him to cry out in pain. Behind him, Jorge cringes with every movement of the knife in Raf's hands.

"I don't fucking know," Guillermo shouts before turning his attention to me. "I fucked her. We all fucked her. The fucking slut couldn't get enough of all the cocks we shoved into her. Her dirty cunt constantly dripped with the cum of every man that fucked her. Sometimes taking ten or twenty men in a night. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"You don't fucking talk to her," Rafael seethes as he loses control. He rapidly plunges the knife into Guillermo over and over again. By the time Rafael stops, he's easily added another twenty wounds to his chest and stomach.

And yet, still not enough to match the number of times he assaulted me.

Guillermo coughs and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. Rafael drops the short paring knife to the floor and takes his time pulling the large, serrated bread knife from the wooden block.

"Come." Rafael extends his arm toward me, enticing me to walk toward him. Fueled with anger, I want to move, but even with them both bound, I can't seem to rid myself of the fear I feel upon seeing them.

"Come, little lamb. Let me show you how good it can feel to burn in hell." When I reach Rafael, he pulls me close and tips my chin up to him. Staring down at me, his gaze is unwavering as he speaks.

"You are so fucking strong, little lamb. You'll see. There's a fucking savage inside of you. I can feel it as real as I feel my own."

He places the handle of the knife in my hand and wraps his hand over mine. "Show them how fucking powerful you are when you aren't tied to a bed and defenseless. Show them the darkness they have unleashed inside of you."

His hand wrapped firmly over mine, he walks us both to the center of the table. With his free hand, he grabs Guillermo's balls and pulls them taut with such force that he howls in pain. Raf places a soft kiss on my temple before resting the knife firmly against the thin skin connecting Guillermo's sac to his body.

Guillermo thrashes in fear causing the serrated blades to nick his flesh. Pressing into the wound, Rafael saws the teeth of the knife through his skin. Blood splatters over both our hands while Guillermo's gurgling and pained screams fill the apartment as we slowly castrate him.

I expected to be squeamish—or disgusted—by the grotesque task at hand. But I'm not. Not in the least. Every jagged pull of the knife through Guillermo's skin gives me back a small piece of what he took from me.

"Let it out, little lamb," Raf whispers in my ear as we continue to saw through the last of his skin.

Opening my mouth, a scream pours from my lungs. I close my eyes and let it go. Pain, anger, despair, rage, hopelessness, and a thousand indescribable emotions spew from me at once as I roar until I am breathless and tears roll down my cheeks.

Fuck, that's better than therapy.

Guillermo lies motionless on the table when I open my eyes. Motionless, but based on the blood still pumping between his thighs, he's not dead yet.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jorge cries as he gags on his own vomit, some of which is currently dripping down his chest. "I'm fucking sorry. So fucking sorry."

"Were you sorry when you raped me?" I stalk toward him with the bloody knife still in my hand. "When you passed me around to your friends?"

"I'm fucking sorry, Lucia," he cries before begging us to spare him. Rafael doesn't respond to him, and I know that the decision is entirely my own.

Standing beside his chair, I pause to relish the change of our power dynamic. He's beneath me, bound, and hopeless while I tower over him with all of the power. With the ability to take whatever I want from him.

Leaning closer, I meet his eyes, which are full of despair, and stare into them as I respond to his pleas, "Because you're so sorry, I'll show you the same mercy that you showed me."

Breaking eye contact with him, I turn to Raf. "Make it slow and painful."

Raf pulls the chef's knife from the table and crosses the distance between the two of them. Without hesitation, he slides the knife horizontally across Jorge's stomach below his navel. Quick. Deep. The contents of his gut spilling to his feet, and he's helpless to stop it. The cries of pain quickly turn to those of desperation, and he begins to pray for forgiveness. Forgiveness he'll have hours to beg for.

Forgiveness no righteous God would ever give him.

Raf digs through the discarded clothes on the floor until he finds a cellphone. While he takes a photo of both men and texts it to Hector, I rummage through drawers to find a pen and paper.

Scribbling my message, I leave it on the table at Guillermo's feet just beyond the puddle of congealing blood.

See you soon, Hector. –Your wife