“What are you talking about?” she asks, but she knows. I fucking know she does. Her color drains, her hands shake, and she looks to the door. Not to escape this time, though. No, she’s looking for Sophie because she knows. This sick fucking bitch knows what he’s doing to her, and she just lets it happen.
Just like the fucking rest of them.
I want nothing more than to jump over this bed and rip her heart out of her chest, but then Bunny stumbles, her words breaking underneath the swell of emotion. I remain still for her despite the itch I have beneath my skin. I hold strong, locking in on her watery eyes.
Don’t fucking cry, baby,I mentally demand, hoping my stare conveys the message. Don’t you give them the fucking satisfaction.
Taking a deep breath, Bunny hears me loud and clear, regaining her strength. And even though the words still come out strangled, she says them anyway. “Your husband raped me seven times. All in the same night. The night of your wedding.”
“You’re a liar.”Mmm, but we all know she’s not.“You got the wrong house,” the wife continues to deny, “because he was here with me. Making love tome.”
“Oh, he was?” Bunny responds instantly, a slight grimace on her lips. “Because I remember him in my bed… forcing my face into the sheets while he shoved his rancid cock into my ass! I remember crying! Begging him to stop, but he kept going! Over and over and over again until he had had enough and decided it was time to go home to his new bride! So, I guess you’re right.” She stops, face red, oxygen ripped from her lungs. And still, my girl finds the strength to go on. “He was here with youafterhe was done with me.”
I know there are violent, graphic details she leaves out, and I can’t deny that I’m grateful for it. I’ve had to picture her in the worst, most traumatizing, and violating positions. Having her confirm only some of it… well. I don’t know if anyone would leave this room alive.
Again, even when she knows the truth because it’s written across the faces of the two people who were actually there, the wife still calls Bunny a liar.
Tired of this, Bunny says between clenched teeth, “Yeah?Ask him.”But she won’t. Why would she willingly shatter her illusion of a perfect life? Right now, she has it all—the perfect home, the sweetest daughter, thebesthusband. Why risk fracturing perfection when she knows what lies beneath the surface? She’ll never ask, so Bunny destroys the fantasy for her.
Shifting back toward Lakens, she demands, “Tell her.” He gazes at her instead, remaining silent and smiling.
What a mistake he just made.
“Tell her the truth!” Bunny roars, yanking the club from his mouth to ram it against his kneecap.
The crunch of bones breaking is the most pleasing sound, so loud it travels through the walls, confirming that we’ve kept our promise to Sophie. I hope she’s smiling in that tiny space of hers, confident that she finally has someone to keep her safe.
“Stop! Please stop!” The wife begs, hands clasped in front of her open, crying mouth, but Bunny is beyond control—a woman truly unhinged as she breaks every bone in his knee.
“What a fucking baby,” she laughs as Lakens folds in on himself, cradling the dislodged pieces. “All I did was hit you on the knee.” Chuckling, Bunny brings the baton up, ready to start the process all over again. “Tell herwhat you did to me. How you liked to curl your fingers under the little bones in my neck because you said the feeling of myracing pulse made you come harder.”
“Tell her,” she continues, “how you’dsqueezemy throatso hardyou’d feel tinypopsagainst your palm. How you liked to paint my body with the bloodyou tookfrommylips!” Bunny takes a breath, eyes glazed with sorrow and pain, but she keeps going. “Tell herhow Ibegged youto help me… and all you did was kiss me and tell me how good you’d be to me next time.Tell her.Tell her…Fucking tell her!”
Over and over, Bunny beats the same spot, this time catching his hand as it tries to protect the broken area. She hammers the fragile little bones until the thin skin and muscle are mush. To us, blood and pulp of flesh are nothing. We’ve experienced so much worse down in those cages. I’m sure even Lakens has seen his fair share of shit. But his wife? The sight of her husband’s hand resembling ground beef sends her flying toward the edge of the bed, vomiting all the contents of her stomach.
The smell is immediate and foul, mixing with the harsh aroma of blood. Had I not been used to it, I might’ve lost the coffee and muffin Susie gave me earlier. Truth be told, the disgusting shit coming out of her might make me lose it anyway.
Sidestepping, I attempt to keep my disgust to myself as Lakens begins to refocus. This time, on me.
“Who the fuck is this?” he asks, breathing harshly with spit on his lips.
I disregard him completely, though it takes every amount of effort I have. Twirling the blade between my fingers, I keep my attention on Bunny, displaying silent solidarity. And then this stupid motherfucker begins to speak.
“Aww,” he sneers, “you got yourself a little boyfriend? How’d you find the time in the middle of taking dicks and whippings?”
I always prided myself on being nothing like the men in my family. Did I drink? Yes. Did I fuck at random? Definitely, but I never put my hands on a woman, and that was my biggest source of pleasure. It proved I was better than them. I swore I would remainbetter than them.And fuck you, Lakens, for ruining that for me.
Slicing my fingers through the wife’s hair, I toss her around and drag her to me, trapping her against my chest. I press her to me so tightly I can feel her heart quaking, taking in how much it worsens when I press my blade against her neck.
“Tell her, or I’ll slice her from ear to ear.”
A horrified expression passes over his lips, but still, Lakens pushes. “You don’t have the fucking balls!”
Oh?
Digging the tip in below the right side of her jaw, I begin to pull, immediately feeling the warmth of her blood dripping onto my hand. Her screams are bone-shaking, almost as violent as her thrashing body. It only makes the cutting worse—the blood flows viciously. That’s what gets her husband moving. That’s what brings himto me.
I pull his wife to the side, ready for his attack. Fuckingwelcominghis attack, but as soon as his feet hit the ground, Bunny swings. It’s not like her other swings. This one holds all the weight of her anger, and every shot she takes after is everything she was forced to keep inside. She crushes his temple for all the memories, breaks his teeth for every smile. I don’t think there’s a bone she hasn’t touched, not one spot that hasn’t fractured just a bit. Bunny shouts and roars and cries and screams, and sheshowshim, her very first monster, what kind of animal they’ve turned her into.
