I lift a sledgehammer from the table, testing its weight in my palm.
"No," I mutter, setting it back down. "This won't do."
I need something painful. I skim my fingers over the steel tools.
I need something slow.
"So, which one of you should I start with? Any volunteers?"
I raise my voice, allowing the echo to bounce off the damp concrete walls. Silence stretches in the room, the only faint sound being heavy breathing from the men. "No?" I look to the side, feigning disappointment. "That's a shame. Guess I'll have to choose myself."
I walk up to the two men who were paid to stand watch while I investigated my sister. They had one job: watch them and don't leave the post. Simple instructions for simple men. And yet, here we are.
"So," I start, bringing a scalpel up and inching the tip dangerously close to the first guard's eyeball. He stops breathing, his pupil trembling as it tracks the silver blade. "Whose bright idea was it to go on a smoke break? Huh? Anyone want to tell me? It'll make your punishment less painful."
I lie through my teeth. Even if they were only half at fault, they are one hundred percent guilty. Because they wanted to get high, they left two defenseless women in the hands of beasts.
A new form of hot rage bubbles in my gut.
I lower the blade, pressing the sharp tip against the first guard's chest. I don't slice fast. I drag it.
Slowly.
"Ahhhhhhhg!"
He grits his teeth, trying to be a man, refusing to let it out, but as the skin parts and the blood beads up, the scream rips through his restraint. My smile spreads, dark and satisfied. "That's the sound I like to hear," I tell him, twisting the scalpel deep into the pectoral muscle.
I pull back, stopping before I hit an artery. I'm not done with him yet. I head back to the table where a glass bottle of clearliquid sits. I pick it up, sloshing the contents. 90% Isopropyl alcohol. I stride back to him. "You like to burn things? Like cigarettes?" I ask. "Let's see how you handle the burn."
I splash the alcohol directly into the open gash on his chest.
His body goes rigid, jerking violently against the chains as the chemical fire sears his raw nerves. He wails, a broken, pathetic sound. I move to the second guard, who is sobbing openly now. I don't bother with the scalpel for him. I pick up a heavy wrench and smash his kneecap in one efficient swing. He collapses in his shackles, useless.
"You two," I say, stepping back as they whimper. "I don't know what god you prayed to, but consider this your divine intervention. You get to live."
I pause, letting the words sink in.
"However, from this day forward, you are excommunicated. You will no longer hold the privileges the Family has given you. You are on your own." My voice drops an octave, leaving no room for argument. "You will serve as a permanent warning to any other idiot who thinks touching my family has no consequences. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," they choke out, barely audible.
I smile, dusting off my hands. Dismissing them from my mind, I turn my attention to the real filth, my next victims.
"Now," I whisper, the air in the room dropping ten degrees. "For you, I have no games."
I walk up to the man who spat on me. He's not smirking anymore.
"You touched her," I say simply. I pick up the straight razor. "You wanted to use your body to hurt women?" I ask softly. "Let's see how you function without it."
I slash his throat in one clean, deep motion.
Blood sprays, painting the concrete in a violent crimson arc. He chokes, his instincts taking over as he tries to lift his hands to clutch his neck, but the chains snap taut, jerking his arms back.
He stares at me with bulging eyes, struggling against the restraints as he drowns in his own blood, eventually surrendering until the light vanishes from his gaze and he hangs limp in the chains.
I turn to the last man. The one who’s shoulder was shot. He’s been awfully quiet and I don’t like that. He's crying, murmuring prayers to a God who isn't listening.
"Save your breath," I tell him, placing the gun barrel of my silencer against his forehead. "You're going to need it to explain yourself to the Devil."
