"What the hell?"
"Not my fault he's a pig, both literally and figuratively," he replies.
In the middle of the room, tied to a metal chair, sits Senator Ashville—completely naked, drenched in sweat, and trembling uncontrollably.
"Damien, what is the meaning of this outrage? I demand you release me this instant if you don't want trouble, boy," he says.
Maybe he thinks his voice sounds authoritative, but all I hear is "blah, blah, blah."
"You don't come into my house and start giving me orders, Mr. Ashville. Especially not after you've abused one of my employees," I spit, and finally, I see fear flicker in his eyes.
"You never specified we couldn't be…rough," he says, his voice trembling.
Behind me, Vasili radiates a wave of fury and death. And though I’d love to have my way with the senator, I’ll let Vasili have the satisfaction of finishing this punishment.
"I shouldn't have to explain boundaries to you, Senator," I say. "But since yours seem a little warped, I'll be happy to straighten them out for you."
The blade sinks into his skin, tracing a fine line along his neck. He’s lucky he’s holding still, probably aware I could hit a major artery. Next, I let the blade slice down his torso until I reach his navel. It’s a superficial wound. One that, if cared for properly, would heal without a trace.
"Do you know what's fascinating about human anatomy?" I ask.
He just shakes his head, my cue to continue.
"How easy it is to trick the brain with pain. For example, right now, your mind is relaxed because this cut didn’t hurt as much as you expected."
I don't give him time to process my words. Vasili grabs his shoulders to hold him still while I trace the path of the blade again, this time pressing just a little harder. With the epithelial barrier gone, I’m now cutting directly into the tissue, and I know it hurts. Like a motherfucker.
The senator’s scream brings a smile to my lips as I wipe the blade on one of the towels Vasili left on a nearby table. Moving to the toolbox, I pull out a Thai knife, the kind ideal for carving fruits and vegetables, and twirl it between my fingers. I like to carve with it, too. Only my preferred medium is skin.
The senator's eyes are red from broken blood vessels, but all I see is Gigi's face as she struggled for oxygen.
That woman tried to get away. That woman, though she is here of her own free will, is under my protection. A protection that wasn't enough against the monster in front of me.
That same feeling of powerlessness floods my veins because it’s not the first time I’ve failed to protect someone.
First Berna. Then Cas. Luna. Gigi.
The voices in my head become too loud.
"Vasili, hold his hand steady."
My right hand moves to secure the senator better in the chair. With his upper limb pinned to the armrest, I lean in and unleash the demon that feeds on these moments. The secret to removing skin is the level of pressure you apply. You can’t go too deep or you risk "cutting out" a little too much.
At some point, the senator passes out from the screaming and the pain, but I don't stop.
After the skin is no longer attached to the first finger, I continue with the next, until his entire right hand is raw flesh. Only then do I step back. This is the hand he used to choke Gigi. This is the hand that signed his own death warrant.
"He's all yours," I tell Vasili as I walk to the sink to wash my hands.
"You've got some blood spots on your shirt," he says.
My shirt is navy blue, so the stains aren't very visible, but I don't want Roxanne anywhere near the creep’s blood. I take off my shirt, toss it in the trash, and grab one of the clean black ones I always keep here for situations like this.
I don't take two steps before I hear another scream, a sign that Vasili has started administering a few cocktails to wake the senator up.
The light in the hall is dim, but when I step into the main lounge, my gaze instantly finds the woman scribbling furiously in a notebook. Next to her is a cup I assume holds coffee. I look at Tommy, who gives me a slight nod, confirming nothing happened while I was gone.
I approach her slowly, but as if sensing my presence, she turns abruptly, and something like relief flashes in her eyes. It shouldn't please me so much that she's relieved to see me.
