An alert pops up on the screen, pausing the cheating cunt, only to show her limping down the shore in real time. Her hair flows behind her, along with a very fucking revealing white dress, and she has the widest smile on her face as she waves her arms in the air, shouting at a man standing further ahead. Even on a fucking island, locked away from everyone else, she manages to find someone to fuck.
The smile keeps getting wider. Wider. Fucking wider!
Helene bursts through the door leading to the basement, her nostrils flared as she grits, “Your wife has run. Again.” She storms towards me, grabbing my arm and drags me with her as she walks through the hallway to a hidden set of stairs behind a door. Her voice is strange. I don’t know if it’s because of the mask or all of the emotions inside of me, but I can’t place why it sounds the way it does as she says, “Prove to me we are your family. Bring her back.”
Time is moving strangely, so when I look around I can see open space. Sand. The water.
She pushes a small knife into my hand, the curved edge of the handle snugly fits against my palm, then she nudges me forward as she repeats, “Bring her back, Kane.”
Kane. Not Asher or the reflection.
She used my name.
Delilah doesn’t get to fucking leave me in hell. Not again. All my dreams of a simple life are demolished because of the very woman who inspired them. So I drop the device, uncaring about who sees her being a whore. The waves lap over the sand, making the surface more stable as I take after her.
My anger gives me more strength, and I catch her before she can collide with the motherfucker. My gloved fingers twist in her hair and she screams, kicking back at me, while calling out to that cunt, “HELP! PLEASE!”
She’s begging him to save her fromme.
Knocking my knee into the back of hers, I force her to kneel then drag her to meet the fucker. He squares his shoulders, attempting to plug authority into his voice. “I don’t know who you are, but let her go.”
Keeping hold of her hair, I place the blade of the knife between the fingers of my other hand and swing my arm back with all my power as he steps forward, fucking reaching for her.
He reaches for her.
He tries to touch her.
In a way you would for someone you care about.
His fingers brush hers as my knuckles connect with his cheekbone. I drag my fist down, slashing through his face. His eyes flick over my shoulder but I don’t give him an opportunity to fight back as I pull my arm back, then hit his chest.
“No, stop!” Delilah screams.
She never asked anyone to stop what they were doing to me.Shenever fucking stopped, but for this cunt, she cries. My rage needs an outlet, so I let go of her hair and use both hands until he’s a lifeless mess of slashes and blood. His face is no longer recognizable as he falls backwards into the water.
It’s not enough to replace the image of her running to him. Of him reaching for her. Of him trying to take her from me. So I grab the front of his t-shirt, lifting him out of the water and slash across his throat. Blood spurts out in erratic sprays from the last few pumps of his heart. When I can’t do any more damage, I drop him. The water splashes up as his blood slowly curls through the small waves lapping against the incisions, but I can’t hear anything other than my own breathing as I turn.
Crimson splatters break up the image of Delilah as she sits on her ass with her feet in front of her. One ankle is bruised and swollen, her hands are behind her, clawing against the sand as she slowly inches backwards, begging, “Please? Don’t. Please let me go.”
Her eyes are already swollen from her tears and there are bruises on her arms. The bruises fuck with me. I don’t like the sight of them.
Asher is back in my head whispering,“She was going to leave you again. You’re not a secret, or hiding, but she still fucked someone else.”
Black tears stream down her face. We don’t even have fucking clothes, yet she found a way to wear makeup. A way to dress herself up for this motherfucking cunt. Even now, when she only has me, I’m not her first choice. The only option I have is to remove every single choice she has. I’ve already told her it’s until death. I’ll spend the rest of my life making hers a living hell for everything she’s done to me.
But why do I still want her?
She freezes as I take a step forward.
“Please?” Her voice cracks. “Don’t. I need to find them. Please.”
How many people has she fucked?
Her chest pushes against the thin fabric of her dress, her nipples visible under the sheer material and the sun. It sticks to her side as the waves slowly rock onto the shore, becoming transparent. She quickly turns on to her knees, pushing up to run. I tighten my fingers around the small, curved handle of the blade so it’s snug in my fist as I run after her. There’s something familiar about the way she runs in a zig-zag, but I focus on her ass in full view.
She was going to fuck that dickhead without even thinking of me, of what it would do to me. Just like before. She thoughtI was locked away, free to fuck whoever she wanted. My whore of a wife will never know any other hand. It will be mine. Brutal and deserving.
9
