I ram the screwdriver into his left thigh, relishing his screams. “This is for every time you said I can’t sing! My vocal range is well above average, you musically uneducated weasel!”
I stab his right thigh, ripping another wail from histhroat.
“And this is for every rumor you made up about me, like when you claimed I was an alcoholic!” I pull out the tool only to sink it into his left thigh again, making him howl. “Alcoholism is a serious illness and you don’t get to use it as a joke!”
I twist the screwdriver in his flesh.
“And this is for every time you made fun of my weight and thought calling me fat was a clever jab!”
“Please, please… no more!” he cries.
“Fat isn’t an insult, jerkface! It’s just a goddamn body descriptor. Fat doesn’t mean ugly. Fat doesn’t mean bad or less than.”
He sobs. “Please, stop… please!”
“Younever stopped, did you? I didn’t even get to beg cause you hid behind a fucking pseudonym. I didn’t get any mercy, so you won’t either! And this is for all the other people you’ve hurt!” I impale his right thigh to the hilt, wiggling the tool back and forth.
Tears stream down Wolfe’s face. “I’ll tell you everything!”
Rust puts a hand on my back and I pause, his warm touch grounding me. “You doin’ okay there, Trouble?”
Breathing heavily, I nod and yank out the screwdriver. I look at the blood spattered over my hands. My muscles scream from turning Wolfe’s legs into Swiss cheese and when I move my arm an inch, a dark stain appears in his crotch.
Did he wet his pants?Disgusting.
The longer I look at this pathetic man, the more my anger dulls and the deeper my disappointment runs. I can’t pretend that I don’t enjoy seeing him cower in anguish, but something is… missing.
The satisfaction I expected to feel is nowhere to be found. In its stead, I’m almost numb.
I expected the villainof so many chapters of my story to be a badass. In reality, he’s a twig-looking, middle-aged guy with male pattern baldness and sweat stains under his arms who just pissed himself from fear and pain.
He ain’t worthy of the title villain.
Rust hugs me from behind. His heat sinks into me as his body curves over mine and he presses his groin against my ass. I gasp at his hard cock.
“Did I ever tell you how hot you are when you stab a man?” he whispers.
A wry smile crosses my lips. “Thanks. But to be honest, it felt kind of meh.”
“Do you want to try the hammer?” Rust suggests again.
“No, I want him to spill his guts. Figuratively, for now.” I point at the mess of blood, urine, and tomato sauce huddled on the bucket. “You said you’d talk, so talk, Wolfe. Or I’ll take Rust up on that offer and we’ll see how much your kneecaps enjoy meeting Mister Hammer.”
Wolfe squeals like a stuck pig. “It was all Rex’s idea!”
My brow quirks and I step out of Rust’s embrace. “Wait. Do you mean Rex Dalton, the talent manager?”
Now that man, he’s worthy of being called a villain. But what does he have to do with this sniveling worm?
“We’ve been friends since college!” Wolfe explains quickly, stumbling over his words.
I jut my chin at him. “Keep me interested and you might keep functional kneecaps.”
“Rex and I were hilariously unpopular nerds. While everybody else got laid, we collected rejections and played tabletop games in our dorm room. To get back at the girls who didn’t want to go out with us, we started an anonymous gossip newspaper. Everyone went crazy for it! We could make up any rumor and people would believe it. Suddenly, we ruled the campus from the shadows.”
I scoff. “That’s repulsive. And instead of growing out of this juvenile bullshit, you decided to make a career out of it?”
Wolfe shrugs sheepishly. “There’s good money in it and I don’t have to show my face. I know I’m not the model type. Now I’m still the invisible nerd to most people, but that’s my superpower. I’m good at blending in and snapping pictures when nobody expects it.”
