“Fucking pathetic.” Deke spits on him.
I reach up and remove my shirt, tossing it to the floor. I hunch down and grip his chin, making him look up at me. “I’ve always been the kind of guy who prefers the fight and likes the sting from a punch. But you’re gonna be the exception.” Then I swing and hit him on the side of the face. His head snaps to the left, and his body falls flat to the tarp.
“Turn him over,” I order.
Deke grabs his hip and rolls him over onto his back, his tied wrists now underneath his weight. I walk over to my black bag and unzip it. Pulling out the knife, I hold it up to inspect it. It’s the same one I used to cut Austin’s forearm when I tried to blackmail her. He thrashes on the tarp, his wide eyes looking up at me. “Sit on him.”
Deke drops to straddle his chest, facing his legs. I bend down and undo the belt and zipper of his pants, then yank them down his shaking legs as he mumbles against his gag. He wears a pair of white boxer briefs, and it gives me an idea. There’s no telling how many times he jacked off to the thought of Austin.
I remember what she once told me.“I walked into my bedroom one day and found Phillip going through my photos in my phone. Photos that I had taken of myself and sent to Martin. After that, I knew I needed to put a lock on it that he wouldn’t be able to guess. Retina scanner was the best bet.”
Yeah, the bastard had definitely jacked off to her. I sit on his legs to keep them from moving. He struggles underneath our weight, but it’s useless. “Does this turn you on?” I ask as I run the blade along his upper thigh. Blood pours from the wound, and he screams out into the duct tape.
One time, Maddox dared Shane to swim in the ocean late at night. He cut himself on something, and we had to take him to Shelby. I remember her cussing at how stupid we were and how close the cut was to his femoral artery. She told us he would have bled out in three to five minutes had it been a little to the left and hit his femoral artery.
I cut this sorry bastard in the same exact spot. Who knew our dares would teach us so much. Not sure which one will cause death at this point.
Then I trail the knife a little higher, hovering over his limp dick. Deke chuckles darkly as he reaches down and wraps his hand around the head and stretches it out. “You won’t be needing this anymore,” he says.
Phillip begins to thrash underneath us. I smile before placing the blade at the base of his dick and slicing through the flesh.
A muffled howl comes out of him as it falls to the floor. The woman screams while she watches in horror, waiting her turn.
Deke tosses the dick to the side. I signal for Deke to get off him, and I toss the knife away as well. I’ll let him bleed a little before I finish him off with my bare hands.
He sobs behind his gag, and his body shakes uncontrollably. Tears run down his face mixed with snot. I smile down at him as the smell of his blood fills the room.
“I wish Austin were here to see this.” I smile. Then I order, “Stand him up.”
Deke pulls him to his feet, no problem, and the guy shakes his head quickly. I raise my fists and smile with excitement. This is exactly what I needed—a fight.
“You should have kept your hands to yourself.” Then I punch him, and I don’t stop. I punch him in the face over and over as I picture his hands on a younger Austin. I see her begging him to stop. I see no one there to help her. To care for her.
When I finally get to the point that my shoulder screams and I’m out of breath, the fucker is dead. His face no longer recognizable. I’m panting, and my body is covered in sweat and blood. I’m physically exhausted.
When his body lies limp in Deke’s arms, he tosses him to the tarp. I lower my bloody hands and sway on my feet.
Deke now stands off to the right, his legs wide and arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes are narrowed on my latest victim. “He touched Austin?” It’s the first time he’s asked why I wanted him to help me kill two people he didn’t even know.
I swallow the lump in my throat. My answer is breathless. “Yes.”
“For how long?”
I haven’t questioned her much on it ’cause I know it’s a sensitive subject, but I would say once he started, he never stopped. “First time, she was ten.”
“Fuck!” he snaps, taking a step back. “If I had known, I would have never—”
“I know,” I interrupt him, knowing he is referring to that first night in the cemetery when he undid her jeans. Deke might be a lot of things, but a rapist isn’t one of them. That was just to scare her.
I turn to her mother. “Your turn.”
“What do we have in here?” Deke asks, opening the bathroom bag we found in their hotel.
We cleared out everything; that way, when housekeeping comes by in the morning, they will think they bailed. Deke pulls out a syringe, a red rubber band, a spoon, aluminum foil, the inside of what looks like a makeup compact that’s been washed out, a Q-tip, and lastly, rubbing alcohol. Then he pulls out a small round container and opens it to find a ball of heroin.
“Fuck! You guys are hardcore.” Deke whistles. “I like it.” He looks at all of it and nods a few times. “You know, I’ve never done heroin, but I’ve seen kids use it at parties before.” He takes the Q-tip and tosses it to the side. “You won’t be needing this.”
He places the ball of heroin on the spoon and then takes a lighter to heat it up. Once it’s liquefied, he draws the heroin into the syringe.
