A saint? Yeah, no.Bowing my head, I massage my temples and snort at myself. Dumbass. Do I want to be her saint or her best friend? I just want her under me, clawing my back while I fuck her brains out.
I delve in my pants pocket, hear the jingle as the chain links slide over each other.This.Her neck, collared. A jolt of pure unadulterated lust steams in from nowhere, knocks me off center. It makes me hunger to collar her.
Except…have I ever done that?
Staring at trees doesn’t help me figure that one out. Fucking useless memory. Is there a drug that will get those back for me? Zap myself with a few thousand volts, take some coke, sit for a few hours doing yoga. Go on a journey up a mountain, like this one…and meditate.
I would do anything to remember, but nothing is ever easy, is it?
Back to basics. I will help find the killer, because I want to. Those killers do seem to be damn near everywhere in Revenant. My own hands are bloody.
Killing the men assaulting her was as easy as driving a nail into wood. I pulled them off her, punched in their throats, and snapped their necks, in seconds. My only injury was when one of them, half-dead, chomped on my hand when I threw him. I can do such terrible things and feel none of the regret I know I should. I’ve searched within myself for that missing piece of empathy, and I have found nothing.
I give zero fucks that those two men are no longer moving or breathing. Especially in the light of what I found on them. Zip ties, handcuffs, weapons, flashlights, knives, those might be seen as standard issue for security or law enforcement. Thepink duct tape, maybe not, and even more dubious was the huge anal plug zipped into the second guy’s pocket. If that was intended for Hailey, how dare they. How fucking dare they. Dead is better than they deserved.
I adjust the tie on the gray sweatshirt, let the hood fall onto my shoulders. The search for a hoodie is why I was almost too late to save her. I had to kill them, though. I did.
Again, I close my hand over the silver collar and finger the clasp, weigh the heaviness of the links. The matching leash is in the backpack. If the house owners miss it, bad luck.
With my right hand, I hold the chain out in the meagre moonlight and examine it, before putting it away. My left hand has duct tape wrapped around one slightly bloodied finger. I don’t even bleed like a man should. That was quite some damage.
With my hands at eye level, I move both my index fingers.
That crunch when it was bitten through was feelable but bearable.
He chewed it straight through. Bit it off. Funny how I didn’t notice, at first. The lost piece is gone. I might find it tomorrow. Might be somewhere in the forest if he held it in his dead mouth for a while.
I thought it worth the risk, the chance of healing, to try this. He didn’t need his fingers anymore. The color seems a bit wrong, but I can move it.
This looks better than good.I rotate the damaged one to check the back.Amazing really.
Poising the knife over his finger while a rat sniffed the air then ran onto the rock I had his hand spread on…that is another memory for my old age. The brutalchonkas the knife blade sliced through. The squeal when I batted away therodent. The flashlight going flying and then having to find the severed piece on the tunnel floor. Brushing off the grit. Sticking it on and using the pre-torn pieces of tape to fasten it onto my stump. It was almost a comedy of errors.
Fun times. Jesus H Effing…Why do I…how can I heal like this?
Least I know Lego is based on reality now. Haha.
“Duct tape works okay.” I nod as if I’m explaining it to my finger, flex it again. “But I should get you stitched.”
If it falls off, well, it does. I swear I can feel pain already. I put it to my mouth and nip beside this fingernail that used to belong to another guy, feel a stir of something that threads in and communicates from where the tip should be. Not exactly pain, but close to it.
“Yeah. Tastes awful but it’s good, so far.”
Severed it at the second joint, jammed the new bit on within the hour from a freshly dead body. It seems I can heal after severing various bits, so long as I have a convenient replacement.
Smiling, I wriggle the digit, and the duct tape separates, and the finger joint parts and shows air.
“Fuck.” I squeeze the tape back down. “Needs more time to cook, I guess.”
I wind more tape on, tear it off with my teeth, tuck the roll into my small backpack that I then sling over one shoulder. Wait, I have gloves. I find those and carefully pull on the stretchy left glove. That will help keep things together.
Then I head down to where Hailey waits for me.
That collar should fit her neck. And the leash, mmm-mmm.
I can see it there, locked on, and her looking up at me.
Get her on her knees, crawling to me.
