His words cause me to see red. She always does…How many fucking times has he choked her out?
“I’m going to fucking kill you if it’s the last thing I do!” I scream as I fight against the restraints.
He finally looks up from the table. He spins, and his eyes lock with mine.
“I thinkI finally know how to make you talk!” He smiles as his gaze slowly turns to Mina.
“Don’t you fucking touch her,” I seethe. Spit flies from my lips as I pull against the ropes.
“Oh, I’m going to do more than just touch her. I’m going to carve my fucking name into her skin, so she knows exactly who she belongs to. Then I’m going to fuck her in front of you. Show you that you will never have her! Mina. Is. Mine.”
“Fucking bastard,” I spit as the bindings dig deeper into my flesh. I can feel the warm blood running from under the ropes.
His laugh grows darker as he looks at the blood starting to drip onto the floor beneath my bound wrists.
I watch in horror as he walks over to the table. He picks up a knife, then another. He checks them, testing their sharpness against his fingertips before deciding on the smaller one.
“Where should I put it?” he says smugly as he walks back to Mina.
My heart drops into my stomach as he takes the knife and slices her hoodie down the front then grips the neckline of her t-shirt before pulling it away from her body to slice it apart. Her body sways as he finishes tearing the thin fabric to expose her body.
He makes one final cut, slicing open the front of her bra. Her breasts bounce as they fall from it.
Declan walks behind her, trailing the knife over her chest, along her collarbone, then up her neck. I watched the blood rush to the surface along the thin line that he’s cutting into her skin.
His knife freezes with the blade placed against her throat. His lips are turned up in a sickening grin as he continues to watch me slowly breaking in front of him.
“Please, stop,” I beg.
“Tell me why you killed my father!” He slides a finger along the cut on her collarbone, smearing the blood. And yet she still doesn’t move.
“I didn’t kill him!”
His knife slides along the bruised skin of her throat, making a razor-thin slice. He knows exactly how deep to go to hurt but not kill. It begins to bleed, but she doesn’t even wake from that.
“Why did you kill my father?” he asks again. He continues to move his hand over her body. Every inch of her he touches will be another slice of skin I slice off him as I take my time.
“I didn’t fucking kill your father! I’ve never killed anyone!”
He straightens and shakes his head as he looks down at her. He grips her chin to tilt her face up. Red stains her lower lip as he runs his thumb across it. He kisses her hard, smearing the blood across her lips.
“Maybe I’ll carve my name into her back?” He presses her body forward as he walks behind her.
He slices up the back of her clothes. The hoodie and shirt are pushed down, bunching around her elbows as he fully exposes her upper body. Her shoulders strain as her head falls forward. I can see another slice along her shoulder.
“No. I want to be able to look at her face every time I see my name etched onto her body.”
He walks around to her front slowly, taking his time as he watches my reaction. The knife is firmly in his grasp as he kneels in front of her. He sets the knife down to place a hand on both of her knees, parting her thighs as his fingers trail higher up her legs. The blood soaking her leggings flows onto his fingers, coating them in crimson.
“Maybe I should carve my name into her chest? Or should it be her stomach?”
He grips her chin and pushes her face up, letting her head fall back as she’s forced upright in the chair. Her breasts are pushed out as her body arches in the seat. He licks his lips as he looks over her half-naked body.
“Fuck. Sometimes I forget just how beautiful my broken little dove is.” His voice sounds crazed. When he looks back at me, his eyes are wide. The once bright green irises are now almost black from how blown out his pupils are.
He picks up the knife and begins to slice open the inner seam of her leggings, then slices through her thong. The torn fabric is pushed up, bunching at her waist, leaving her pussy bare and exposed.
Bloody fingerprints and smears stain her skin. They run along every inch of her body. His fingertips are coated as he continues to paint her body red.
