“He was an asshole. Cocky, confident, and so rich he expected everyone to dance to his tune.” He rests his head against the wall as rage slowly builds up in my veins again. “He got obsessed with this thirteen-year-old girl and wanted her.” The organ that pumps my blood contracts strangely at the mention of my mother, and I allow for this weird emotion to fuel the rage so it can grow and bring me strength. “At first, I refused. The job was too risky. She frequently went to a library in town, and it was always crowded. Plus, she wasn’t stupid or naive, but very wary.” He spits some more blood. “He was so obsessed, he offered triple the amount. I got the girl for him, and she fought me every step of the way.” Despite the situation, excitement blankets his gaze, and my hand clenches into a fist. “He didn’t appreciate that. He was a crazy fucker. Got all jealous and shit over me touching her and refused to pay. Instead, he sent the cops my way, so I had to flee.” He stills when I drag the knife down to his stomach, and quickly adds, “Idon’t know anything else. He never gave me his full name, but I have the girl’s picture in one of my albums.”
He sighs in relief when I step back, happiness shining on his face because the idiot really thinks I’m going to let him go.
No one is more confident in getting away with crimes than a coward who lost humanity.
“You’ll let me go now, right?” He licks his chapped lips. “I gave you what you wanted. I’ll keep my mouth shut as if this never happened.”
“Of course you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
I grab the pliers from the table and go back to him as he starts thrashing in his restraints when I forcefully open his mouth and cut off his tongue. “You see, Ken. Your cooperation means nothing to me. You know why?” I lean toward his ear. “Because that thirteen-year-old girl? She was my mother.” He gasps and it transforms into a scream when I stab him several times, enjoying watching him bleed before I release the chains holding him together so he can fall to the floor.
Injuries that would affect his life forever but not take it.
Oh, no.
All these victims in his photo albums?
They deserve justice, and death is too quick of a punishment for the atrocities committed by him.
I want him to suffer and answer for every single soul he captured.
As he thrashes in agony, I grab the album and flip through it some more, searching for my mom’s picture, greedy to see her and dreading it at the same time because the picture would be a haunting reminder of what happened to her.
I don’t find anything, though. Robert must have taken it, which would fit with his jealous character. He couldn’t even stand her loving me.
The rage within me builds and builds, wishing to destroy everything around me, and it’s hard each day to control the urges.
I’m not any closer to finding him or my little sister, but I will.
If that’s the last thing I do.
In my quest for revenge, I forgot about one crucial thing.
Spoiled and cowardly men like Robert can’t forgive or forget those who took something from them.
And when my mother died, I became his single focus, just like he was mine.
We both wanted to catch the other.
The only difference?
I wished to kill him, and he needed to take away something from me I loved most to bring me as much pain as possible.
According to his warped logic, I had to pay for taking away Mom from him.
Once I figured that out, all I had to do was wait.
And when Lavender entered my life?
It was game on.
Lavender
Pain.
That’s the first thing registering in my head when I open my eyes, only to close them again as prickling sensations seem to envelop my whole scalp and squeeze it tight.
My body hurts all over, and since when is my mattress this rough underneath me?
