He doesn’t even get the chance to scramble away before my hand clamps around his throat, dragging him upright. I don’t punch him. That would almost be merciful. I want him to feel just how much slaps hurt.
I slap him.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each strike from my gloved hands lands sharper than the last, snapping his head to the side, blood spraying from his nose and lips. He groans, his head slumping—but I grip him by the throat more tightly and slap him again, hard enough to bring him back from the brink of unconsciousness.
His eyes roll, unfocused, dazed.
“Please…” he breathes.
I ignore it.
Gripping his broken arms, I drag him across the room like a disobedient dog. He screams in pain, and it’s music to my ears. His agony is the only language I want to hear from him.
I discard him at Josh’s feet, the stool creaking as Josh squirms and sobs, tied up and barely touched. Yet he’s the loudest in the room.
“On your knees.”
Caleb obeys this time, too wrecked to resist. He pulls himself up from the floor, trembling, blood dripping down his chin.
I walk over to the center table and sit on it, facing both of them. Their faces are ruined. Eyes wide, terrified. Breathing ragged.
Good.
I slip my hand into my jacket and pull out a cigarette and a lighter.
I don’t smoke often. Never around Lucas. Never in the house. But after I saw that video, I started again. Small, quiet moments when I needed to keep the demons from slipping out of me. Moments like this.
I light it. Inhale slowly. The smoke burns a little, but it anchors me. Keeps me from going too far.
I exhale and look at them—silent, bloody, pathetic.
“Why did you guys do that to him?”
My voice is calm. Controlled.
But underneath, there’s a storm ready to tear the walls down.
“D-Do… what?” Josh stammers, his voice trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.
“Please,” he says, choking on his fear, “we didn’t—”
“Oh, you did,” I cut him off coldly, stepping toward them.
My hand cracks across Josh’s face in a single, bone-snapping slap. His head jerks sideways violently, a cry of pain breaking from his throat. Caleb flinches like a coward beside him.
I scoff. “Remember doing that to someone?” I ask Caleb without looking at him.
He blinks, dazed. “Do what?”
Wrong answer.
I slap Josh again. Harder. The sound echoes, my leather gloves against skin, doing more damage. He howls.
