One final hit to his temple was enough to knock him out, his eyes closing, his hands dropping, no longer trying to defend himself. I didn’t check for a pulse, didn’t care if he was still alive for this part or not. I wiped the back of my hand across my face, smearing the blood that had splattered all over me. Its warmth spurred me on, reminding me that my job wasn’t finished yet.
Leaving him where he was, I dropped the hammer and went to retrieve the saw. He was still flat on his back, his head tilted to one side, not that it mattered. I straddled his naked body, my thighs on either side of his chest, as I gripped the handle of the electric reciprocating saw. The blade was brand new and sharp, just begging to cut through something.
Cutting through his flesh was easy, the blade sliced it like butter, the serrated teeth tearing him into strips, slinging them in every direction as I cut deeper. I never let up the force I held against it, even as it struggled to cut through the vertebrae of his neck. Bone dust shot into my face with chunks of gore, and I regretted forgetting to steal a mask earlier. My blonde hair was starting to stain red as his head finallyseparated from his useless body. Never again would he lay hands on another girl.
Chapter twenty
The Vigilante
September 29th 2023
If there was one thing I hated almost as much as I hated sick pedophile fucks it was their damn lawyers. Brandon's public defender was also his power of attorney, since he had no relatives willing to take responsibility for him, and he was nothing more than a thorn in my side. A sleazy, greasy-haired, rat-faced thorn, still a thorn nonetheless.
Sitting around my office waiting for almost an hour after our scheduled phone call wasn’t how I wanted to be spending my afternoon. I’ve spoken to him a few times during Brandon's stay at the behavioral clinic, and each time left me feeling like I needed xanax. Nothing his lawyer did or said was going to change the outcome that was going to befall his client. He would never get the opportunity to lay his hands on another innocent child again.
At fifty-two minutes past twelve p.m. the phone finally rang. I had half a mind to let it go to voicemail, but I wanted to get the experience over with sooner rather than being stuck playing a twisted game of phone tag all afternoon. I had a session with Raelynn that I wasn't willing to compromise for this asshole.I could still taste her, could still feel how her soft lips felt against mine. It was unethical as fuck, attempting anything with one of my patients, only the rules didn’t apply when it came to her.
I had to stop myself from thinking about how her hands gripped me, and how I longed to feel that tight grip on my cock. It was fucking wrong, how quickly she’d become an obsession of mine, but I found that I really didn’t fucking care as I answered the phone. I’d already crossed one ethical boundary the first moment I decided to take someone else’s life; what was one more indiscretion against me?
“Bradshaw,” I stated shortly, not even trying to mask the annoyed tone in my voice.
“Daxton! How are you, my good man? It’s Leo Hall, Mr. Everett's attorney.” He sounded happy—he always did. His joyous demeanor was as fake as his hair, which not even a comb over could hide the awful toupee he wore.
I didn’t bother answering his question; pleasantries weren’t usually needed when dealing with attorneys.
“I assume you have news regarding Mr. Everett?”
“Yes, wonderful news in fact. Thanks to his extended stay in his program at the clinic, I’m very hopeful his jail time will be minimal, if he sees any at all. Since he’s been in solitary and was able to sign the release so I could speak with you, I was hoping you could relay the news at your next session with him? You must be doing wonderful work with my client.”
I wanted to groan, but I didn’t, jail time or not, Brandon Everett wasn’t leaving this clinic alive despite what his attorney thought. I couldn’t go telling him that, though. Convincing him to sign the release so his lawyer and I could directly communicate was both an idea of absolute brilliance and sheer stupidity since the prick now enjoyed using me as a carrier pigeon for messages to his client.
“My next session with him is tomorrow morning. I’ll be sure to let him know; it might lift his spirits,” I casually said.
“Pardon? What do you mean by "lift his spirits”?”
“For the past several weeks, Mr. Everett has been showing signs of clinical depression. I suspect it’s possibly guilt over what he’s being accused of.”
“I’m sure he’ll snap out of it,” Leo said dismissively. I doubted he would retain a word I was telling him since it sounded like he already had the case already figured out. “Just keep me updated if anything changes. I’ll be in touch with his release date.”
“I’ll make sure to do that,” and I’d make sure to pretend to be extremely empathetic when he gets the call that his client didn’t survive his battle with my brand of depression.
He said a few more pleasantries with little meaning behind them before hanging up. With family members of clients that needed my help, our conversations were usually more productive. Snakes who represented their sick fuck clients didn’t deserve the attention to detail I gave to the people who did.
For the past few weeks, I made sure my notes on Brandon reflected a depressed man. A man who struggled with a severe internal battle over the damage he caused his family. It wasn’t hard to manipulate the facts. Therapists weren’t required to record any of our sessions; HIPAA laws typically prevented things of that nature. Brandon only helped my case by acting erratically when he was with the group; he couldn’t keep his nasty thoughts to himself, even if his life depended on it.
I’ll never understand how he was able to get close enough to the little girl when he couldn’t even control himself around grown women. I doubted I’d ever get the chance to peel back all his layers to figure that out. Being truthful wasn’t his strong suit, and patience when it came to pedophiles wasn’t mine.
My annoyance level would have been bordering on becoming full-blown rage if I didn’t have my session with Raelynn to look forward to. The thoughts I was starting to have involving her were slowly taking over every one of my waking hours. I wanted everything from her; she wasn’t just under my skin—she was an essence floating through my very veins.
Locking up my office, I made my way down the stairs to her hallway. I didn’t have to hunt for her long once I heard her laughter from the hall. When I rounded the corner to her door, my suspicions were confirmed, only Kendi had been able to make her laugh like that, so open and freely, since she’d been committed here.
Raelynn was sitting facing her friend, both of them cross-legged on her bed, a deck of playing cards between them. Rae’s back was to me, so she didn’t see me leaning on the door frame, watching the two of them for a moment as they continued their card game.
“What game could possibly have the two of you so amused?” I asked when they started another round of gut-busting laughter.
Raelynn jumped as I spoke, nearly falling off the bed, but Kendi grabbed her arm even though she was also suffering from a renewed fit of giggles. Rae placed her hand against her chest, still laughing despite almost falling off the bed and being startled.
“Go fish,” she said through a deep breath as she tried to calm herself down, her chest heaving with the effort.
