Keaton picks up another knife, this one is serrated, not aimed to kill. Its only intention is to maim, and he makes that very clear when he moves directly for Manic and rests the tip of the blade at the edge of his forehead. Manic bristles, darkness flooding his face, though no sign of remorse appears.
“You talk too fucking much,” Keaton growls, kneeing him in the stomach. The grooved blade is right where skin meets hairline, and Keaton starts whistling as he carves his way toward Manic’s ear. When he reaches it, he pauses, giving the tip a slight tug before tucking it over and curling the blade of his knife around the semi-circle at the base of his ear, sawing back and forth repeatedly.
Manic howls,the same way I did.
Then, it falls away, his right ear tumbling to the ground.
Keaton kicks it across the room, shoving his knife in his back pocket before he grabs the loose skin at the edge of Manic’s face and begins to peel it back slowly. Fleshy white bone makes an appearance, and blood, so much blood. I drop my eyes to the ground.
Skinner.
Now I know how my brother got the name.
I squeeze my eyelids closed as my stomach roils, then a hand grips my hip. I don’t open my eyes to confirm, but I know it’s Harlen. I slide my fingers into his and hold him tightly as a violent chill rachets through my body.
Maybe I can’t do this?
Maybe I’ve always been weak?
Manic is still howling, though he manages a growl. “You just didn’t want to die, did you?”
I flick my eyes open to his, feeling the brush of Keaton’s arm beside mine. “What?” I ask.
Manic laughs, even though half of his face is, well…hanging off.“Can you breathe underwater, little moth?”
I freeze.
But only for a moment before I’m turning around, snatching the gun Rusty placed against his lower back, and prowling directly for Manic.
I grab his chin in my free hand and shove his skull back against the wall, feeling all four men at my back move closer, but still giving me the freedom to do what I need to do.
I try to shove the gun in Manic’s mouth, but he bites his teeth closed, though it’s nothing I have to deal with for long because Harlen is right at my side, prying his mouth open roughly. I quickly push the barrel right down his throat. Manic’s eyes are wide, the hazel now turning black with fear.
I lean down and whisper right at his ear, “I can. Can you breathe while you choke on your own vomit?”
I release the safety.
I scrunch my eyes closed, and before I can allow my mind to drift away, I’m slapped hard across the face. “Eyes. On. Me. Cherry.”
Vomit races up my throat and floods my mouth. I turn my head to the side but am quickly stopped when the second man halts my movement, pushing a palm to my nose.
I start to choke.
Vomit fills my airways as my chest jolts with violent, spluttered coughs.
I shove my palm into his nose, feeling the bones crunch, cartilage giving under my palm, and then I push into the mess harder as a tear falls down my cheek.
“Doesn’t feel very nice, does it?” I spit my words all over him as my entire body trembles.
The smell of fear assails the opening of my nose.
Urine.
And when I divert my eyes to the concrete, I see that he’s pissed himself as his chest jolts. I have every intention to let him choke, to die this way, but I know Rusty and Harlen need their revenge too,and I need answers.
“You can’t survive twice, Cherry. Tell your mother you tasted just like her, only a little riper.”
The words Manic had said to me seconds before he had shoved me into the lake stuttered in my head over and over and over again like a broken cassette.
