When I’d gathered everything, I grabbed his foot, pulling him through the kitchen and out the back door. The cold air bit at my cheeks as I stepped outside, the wind sending a chill down my spine. I instantly regretted not putting on a shirt, but I didn’t feel like going back inside.
The shed out back was small, but big enough for what I had to do. The windows were boarded up, the stairs leading up to it had caved in, and there was a padlock on the door, preventing anyone from entering. I slipped the key into the lock and pulled it free. The door swung open with a soft squeak, and I grabbed Daniel’s foot again, dragging him inside.
The air inside was suffocating, the stench of mold and decay wafting in the air. Dead mice were scattered along the floor, and I kicked them aside to make a path. I dropped Daniel’s leg, leaving him lying just in front of the door.
A wooden table sat in the center of the room, the old blood that stained the surface a dark brown. I reached back and closed the door, slipping the padlock on and letting it hang there. My chest felt heavy as I lifted Daniel up and placed him in the center of the table. His head hung over the edge as the rest of his limbs sprawled on the table. Dried blood caked his cheek and chest, the wound I’d created along his neck now gaping open.
I stood there, staring at this useless being of man, and my fists clenched. My hand sprang into action before my brain could catch up, and I punched him. His head snapped sideways, and I punched again, feeling the crack of his jaw. Teeth dropped from his mouth onto the floor, and I reached down to pick them up, slipping them into my pocket.
My chest heaved as I lay into him, punching him until my arms went limp and my anger was satiated. I pulled back, seeing my fist lined with cuts from his teeth and my knuckles red and swollen. Blood dripped down my hand and wrist, the metallic stench mixing with the rot, and I fought the urge to gag. I wiped the blood from my hand onto my pants and sighed.
I picked up the garbage bags, pulling seven from the box, and set them aside for later. Strolling over to my workbench, I grabbed the Sawzall and plugged it in, the anticipation sending warmth straight to my cock. Adrenaline buzzed through me as I turned back to Daniel and stripped his clothing from his body. I slipped on some gloves and reached down, grabbing his cock in my hand. My face turned up in disgust as I stretched it out, the skin tearing in some places. I reached over, grabbed the Sawzall with my other hand, and clicked it on. It roared to life with a loud whir, and I pressed the blade to the base of his cock.
It slid free in seconds, his limp shaft dangling from my hand. I grimaced as I cut off the Sawzall and sat it on the table, angling my body toward his face.
His mouth was wide with horror and I smirked, remembering the way he pleaded for his life.
“Gotta make good on my promise,” I mumbled, shoving his cock into his mouth.
I pressed it deep, watching it glide over his tongue until finally, it filled his throat. I picked up a dirty sock, then shoved it into his mouth, smirking at the masterpiece before me.
Gazing down at him, a sliver of satisfaction rippled through me. I picked up the Sawzall and pressed it against the wound at his neck, and flicked it on. It sank deep into him, slicing through what little muscle and cartilage was left. Blade met bone, and I groaned as I pressed it harder. Vibrations snaked their way up my arm as I leaned into it, wishing I could feel the warmth of his blood on me. It stalled for a few seconds before buzzing back to life. A loud crack rang through the room as his head snapped free and fell to the ground. It rolled along the floor, meeting with the pile of clothes.
With a satisfied smile, I lay the Sawzall on the table, giving my hand and arm a break. A few minutes passed as I looked down at him, seeing his spine peeking through the gaping hole where his head used to be. When my arm stopped tingling, I picked it up again, pressing it into the bend of his armpit.
My heart pounded with excitement as I bore down on his arm, feeling it cut through tendon and muscle. The Sawzall sputtered as it met with his bone. With a guttural cry, I pressed all my weight into the saw. His arm snapped free with a loud crunch and rolled off the table to the floor. It landed at my feet, and I kicked it to the side. I moved to the other side of the table and repeated the process on his other arm.
When all his limbs had been cut free, I was left with just his torso. I peered down at it, knowing it wouldn’t all fit in one garbage bag. I grabbed the Sawzall, flexing my fingers around it, before pressing it in the middle of his neck. It started with a sputter as I pressed into his flesh, viscera spilling from the large crevice.
I reached the end, flicking off the saw, and gathered his organs, putting them into an empty trash bag along with half of his torso. The other half lay on the table, half of his intestines dangling from the side. I picked them all up and chunked them into a bag, tying it shut.
A few minutes later, I gathered all the bags and his clothes and threw them into the wheelbarrow. As I headed outside, rain beat down on my bare skin, a thunderstorm hanging overhead. The earth was soft beneath my feet as I made my way to the large open field behind the house.
This land and house had belonged to my father, but instead of him living here, it was just me. There were no other ‘heirs’ to fight me for his belongings, so when he was declared officially dead, everything reverted to me.
My father’s body was buried beneath a rose bush, his remains now nothing more than worm food. I never visited his grave, only glanced at it occasionally to remind myself that I was really free from him.
He’d been dead for six years now, and not a soul in the world asked where he had gone. As a businessman, he was well-respected, but as a person… Well, let’s just say his personality wasn’t suitable for other people. When I’d feigned ignorance and reported him missing, no one batted an eye. He’d disappeared a hundred times before, always coming back weeks later with a fresh tan and some pretty young woman on his arm. This time, though… He wouldn’t be coming back.
I had my father to thank for the darkness that lived deep in my soul. Out in the open, he was always a loving, doting father. A man who took on beinga single parent when his wife upped and left him. But behind closed doors, he was a monster.
Night after night, I was his punching bag. The bruises faded, but the mark he left on me was there for life.
I reached the clearing and looked down at my arms, the tattoos that decorated my skin covering the scars my father had left behind. Grabbing the shovel from on top of the wheelbarrow, I started digging, letting my mind run free as memories flooded my mind.
Two hours later, the holes were dug. I reached down, throwing a trash bag into each one. I finished refilling the holes, packing them down to make sure the dirt would hold. I stepped back and gazed at the clearing, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. I grabbed the shovel and made my way back to the shed, with only one thing on my mind.
Lila had opened up to me, pouring her heart and soul out. If I wanted her to see me—the real me—I had to do the same.
HourshadpassedsinceI last saw Niko and some twisted part of me had wanted to beg him to stay. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. To simply say, ‘Please stay.’ I’d never been good at admitting when I had messed up, but I knew I had when I kicked him out. Every fucked-up part of me felt the sting of him leaving, but I wasn’t sure I even cared anymore.
The room was eerily silent without him here, a stillness that made my skin itch. I replayed the last few days over in my head, trying to piece together when exactly I’d resigned myself to feeling this way.
He was dangerous.
A ticking time bomb.
Amurderer.
