He shakes his head. “But you’re different— different than Clyde.”
I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath as I squat in front of him. The smell of blood floods my nostrils and makes my heart beat faster with excitement. “You’re right, kid. I am different, but not in the way you think.” I stand back to my full height and roll my neck before cracking my knuckles. “I’m much worse.”
His body starts to tremble so hard the metal legs of the chair clank against the concrete floor, and it pulls a smile to my lips. I’m going to make sure he suffers. Not only did he make me look bad with Clyde, but it made him question my motives before I wanted. And to top it off, it’s because of him I had to leave Lily tonight. I could have been so deep in her cunt at this very moment, but he ruined it.
“Hey!” CJ jumps at my booming voice as the goon from outside steps in with my call. I don’t know his name, and I don’t care to. He’s nothing to me.
When he stops in front of me, I take a good look at his face before snarling a single command. “Go get my bag from the back of the SUV.”
Whoever he is doesn’t question me this time. He obeys like the good dog he is and fetches my bag. When he comes back, I take it and order him away, then turn my focus back to CJ. “I’m going to make this brutal. You fucked up a lot by doing what you did.”
He shakes his head vigorously and pushes his back harder into the chair. “You don’t have to.” He whines.
“I told you, I may not have to, but I want to.”
Sobs and soft whimpers come from him as I lay my bag on the floor and open it. This isn’t my first time doing shit like this, but it’s the first time in a while where I want to make it as terrible as possible. Typically, I don’t give a fuck about talking or going back and forth, but with CJ, I want him to suffer. I want him to see everything I do to him and remember me when he makes it to hell.
First, I pull out the small baggie of MDMA and lay it on the ground. Then, I grab my pliers and pruning shears. I’m not exactly sure what I have planned just yet, but I know it will come to me.
Scooping the small baggie from the ground, I open it and shake the small pill into my hand. Walking back to CJ, I straddle his lap and grip his cheeks with my pointer and thumb, then squeeze, forcing him to open his mouth. He tries to fight, but he’s already so weak that there is no point. He knows I’ll win.
Once it hits his tongue, I plug his nose and cover his mouth with my other hand. “This will increase your heart rate and make you feel everything deeper. Normally, people use it for pleasure, but I like to use it for pain.”
His eyes grow wide despite the wicked swelling before he starts shaking his head again and jerking his body. Instead of trying to combat his pathetic excuse of fighting, I push my feet on the ground, making the chair teeter back for a split second before letting it crash to the ground.
The impact has him sucking in a deep breath which results in him swallowing the pill. I give him a smile and unclamp my hand from his mouth. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He sucks air into his mouth anxiously, searching for the breath the impact stole from him as I stare down at him, still smiling, trying to think of my next move.
Just when I’m about to move and stand him back up, I feel wet warmth seep into the back of my pants. I stand up, then grip the back of the chair and return it to its original position. Glancing at the crotch of his pants from over his shoulder, I see the wet spot on the denim growing.
“Did you just piss on me?” I ask, stepping back in front of him.
More sobs and cries, but no reply.
I tsk out loud, clicking my teeth to show my disgust, as I walk to where my pliers lay on the floor. “And here I thought you had some fucking dignity. I guess I was wrong.”
I uncurl his vice-like grip on the chair’s arm and lay his fingers flat against the metal. One by one, I begin plucking the fingernails from his digits. With each one, his screams grow louder, and it does nothing but make me want to keep going.
Once all ten are removed, I take a step back and admire my work. Blood trickles from his fingertips, forming small puddles of blood below them. “You know, even if you didn’t want to kill that bitch Amy, you could have stopped her and none of this would be happening.”
I reach down and drop the pliers, then grab my sheers. “If you would have just manned up and stuck around for five more minutes—five minutes, CJ—all of this could have been avoided. Now, not only have you pissed off Clyde, but I’m sure Raymond also has it out for you. Even if I was to let you go— which would never happen—you wouldn’t last a day. And to top it all off, you fucked up my own plan.”
I step back to him and place his left pinky between the shears. “You see, I was going to bring Clyde down— steal everything he had. All I had to do was mind my P’s and Q’s for a few more weeks. You know, get a really good plan of execution together, but now he’s questioning me. And he wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for you.
“Not only did you leave that night, but you stuck me with the mess, and that pretty, tight bodied blonde is a part of it. She’s a fucking distraction I don’t need and is making me question shit of my own.”
I’m not sure why I’m divulging all this to him, but it feels good in a way. Like a weight I didn’t mind carrying is lifted off my shoulders, but it doesn’t cloud my anger completely.
I squeeze the sheers together and rejoice in his screams as his pinky falls to the ground. They’re music to my ears and make my dick hard coupled with the mere thought of Lily. Blood spews from the wound in a steady beat. With every pump of his heart, more blood pours out.
The sight makes me want more. More blood. More power. More everything. So, I place his ring finger between them next and sever it.
“Eric!” He screams.
It’s funny he thinks calling my name will save him. Screaming my name for mercy only makes me feel like the God I know I am.
Next, I slice his middle finger off. His screams grow fainter, but I can still hear them. Just as I’m placing his pointer between the shears, ol’ goon I don’t give a shit about comes back in. I want to tell him to leave, but if he wants a show, I’ll give it to him.
I drop the sheers and unbuckle CJ’s pants. With some effort and strategic maneuvering, I get them along with his boxers, down around his ankles.
