Stepping toward him, I reach my hands out toward his waist.Roger’s wide, glassy eyes trace the movement of my hands, his face pinched with fear.I unbuckle his belt and pull it from the loops at his waist.
“You remember this, don’t you, Roger?”I taunt.“Surely, you haven’t forgotten how you used your belt on your daughter.Before you die, you deserve to feel what she felt.”
“No, no, please!”he whines.“Please d-don’t do this!”
I move behind him with the end of my belt clenched in my fist.I let it swing beneath my hand, letting him hear the clink of the metal.The leather whistles through the air as I rear my arm back and then swing it forward.It collides with Roger’s side and he belts out a hoarse scream.
Blood begins to seep through his shirt in the place my belt hit, and I grin.“I will match every scar you gave Ava, every way that you marked her perfect skin.You will feel every single one, Roger.”
He chokes out a sob as tears stream down his cheeks.“No,” he whispers.
“Oh, yes,” I chuckle, “this is what you owe her.This is what you deserve.”
I swing the belt again and it lets out a satisfying thwack as it collides with his back.The metal buckle tears through his dirty shirt, revealing an angry, red welt on his skin.His balance teeters on the tiny stool beneath him, but I only give him a moment to right himself.I can’t have him die yet.Not when he deserves so many more strikes.He deserves to feel the suffering he caused Ava.
“You’re the one who’s worthless!”I scream.“You’re the one who’s nothing!”
Forcing all of my rage into my muscles, I swing the belt over and over.His pained wails fill the room as the metal collides with his flesh and rips the skin beneath it.Blood drips from his wounds and the force of the impact sprays it back onto me.Each time the buckle hits his skin, I bark out the words he’s used to describe his daughter.
“Worthless!”
Smack.
“Broken!”
Smack.
“Nothing!”
Smack.
I whip him until my breathing is labored and the leather slips from my blood-soaked palms.
When his screams stop and his eyelids begin to flutter, I walk around his pathetic form.His legs quiver, barely holding the weight of his body.His shirt hangs in scraps from his shoulders, their edges dripping with blood.I grab his wrist, my fingers digging into his skin.I wrap the end of the belt around his hand, wiping his own blood into his palm and leaving the belt to dangle from his hand.
“Stay awake, Roger,” I demand.His eyes flick to mine and I flash him a toothy smile.“This next part is my favorite.”
I slam my foot into the stool under this worthless body, kicking it across the room.He chokes, wheezing and gagging as his body swings from the fan.Bile drips from his mouth.His fingers claw desperately at the rope.Laughter howls out of me, filling the room as I watch him die.
His piss puddles on the floor beneath him, and I step back to keep my boots dry.His pants thicken as he soils himself.I inhale the acrid stench of Roger's death, but all I smell is Ava's freedom.
