One day we’re both going to reflect on the moment we knew there was hope for us to survive the shit they put us through. I’ll recall this—the last time we ever visit this fucking place and the first time we ever arrived by choice—seeing tears in her eyes due to laughter.
Wrapping my arms around my wife as she sobers, I kiss her shoulder. “What do you want to do?”
“Do you know what type of doctor he was?” she whispers, hugging me.
“A surgeon, like Harkin?”
“A gynecologist,” she says lower. “I never understood why the memories were always fuzzy or in parts. I remember the drive to my grandparents’ house, I remember practicing the piano until they thought it was perfect, but I can never remember having dinner because they’re all the same with their drugged depravity.”
“Make him hurt.” I kiss her cheek as I step around her to take the wooden bench. Sitting it on its side, I kick against the leg until it breaks free with the frayed nails sticking out. “Come here, koukla mou.”
She trembles as she walks around the piano, avoiding her grandfather. I press my lips to her crown as I hand her the wooden leg. “Here you go. Rape the fucker while he’s powerless.”
“I don’t want to see that.” Her nose scrunches up as she looks up at me. “Or him.”
“Okay, turn around.”
She slowly turns with a small object tightly gripped in her fist, the ornate gold ends sticking out of the edge of her palms.
“Play for me again?” I ask, moving her in front of the piano.
Delilah’s talents belong to her alone. They don’t get to take it from her when it brings her joy. With one hand, she plays a macabre tone as I press my boot against Sinclair’s face and drop the wooden leg on his back. Taking the knife from my pocket, I cut through his belt, grimacing at the sight of his pasty, pockmarked, hairy ass.
My pretty girl plays faster. Her emotions have always bled through her fingers, so I don’t extend her anxiety as I tilt my face away from the literal ass in front of me. Using the splintered edge with the sharp nails poking through the wooden leg, I force it into him as his pained whimpering is muffled.
“The pathetic fuck is trying to scream,” I say for Delilah’s benefit as she skips a note. “What a shame you can’t, with the drugs.” I force him to take more. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, could it, pretty girl?”
As blood spills around the thick wooden leg, mixing with his anal leakage, he knows the feeling of being trapped in a body while being invaded. I don’t push it further in, just enough for it to be held in place while I cover as much of his ass as possible with his cut slacks. He remains sprawled on the floor with wide eyes.
The piano notes slow once I have my arms around Delilah’s waist. They get lighter when I kiss her neck and they stop when I ask, “Do you want to do it?”
“I don’t want to see,” she answers.
“You don’t have to.” I chase a tear rolling over her cheek, capturing it with my lips as she drags in a stuttering breath. “All you have to do is turn and kick it into him. I’ve done everything else.”
86
KANE
She steels her spine, turning with me attached to her. A small laugh parts her lips as she looks down at her grandfather. True to my word, his ass is covered with the leg sticking through the cut I made in his slacks.
I loosen my arms around her as she lifts her foot and, slowly at first, she presses her foot against the flat end of the leg. Moreliquidssoak through his slacks, making her grow in confidence.
“You’re doing such a good job. A little more.” I hug her tighter.
“You’re such a silly girl.” She pushes another two inches of the wide wood into him. “Stop crying.”
“Good girl, keep going.”
“Insolent.” Another inch.
“My perfect wife,” I praise.
“Dramatic.” Another inch.
“I’m so fucking proud of you.” I softly kiss up her neck as she grows in rage, screaming as she forcefully stamps down three times until there’s no more wood left. I quickly turn her into my chest as his slacks open from the pressure of her kicks.
Blood slowly seeps over Sinclair’s parted lips, pooling beneath his frozen face as his eyes continue moving. Even if he manages to overcome the drugs, he’s not a risk. Helene is tied to her armchair with a gag, the stun collar with thick, sharp spikes on the inside wrapped around her venomous neck. Her body works against her, forcing the spikes into her nape. I pull Delilah out of the room.
