Page 12 of Lilies from Hell

“You’ve got balls.” My eyes scan him from head to toe with disdain, lingering on his crotch. “I’ll make you swallow them.”

“Please! Wait. We can work something out.”

Ignoring his screams, I approach him and strip him naked from the waist down while my men hold him down from behind. Then I stab him with the knife at the base of his penis. The crimson liquid first flows like a torrent down the inside of his thighs, then increases until it forms a pool on the table. His testicles feel warm and soft in my hand, while his pubic hair brushes against my palm as I hold them firmly, his desperate screams becoming distant.

When I have them in my hands, I smile, running the piercing over my fangs. Everything is covered in crimson. Polina recoils from the smell of rusted iron and sweat. She hugs the girl tightly, pulling her head to her chest so she won’t see me force a testicle into his mouth.

“Swallow,” I demand with an impatient gleam in my eyes, pushing the flesh down his throat. Some of the skin gets trapped between his teeth when he tries to get them out of his mouth.

He manages to chew a couple of times before his stomach shakes wildly and he ends up puking on himself. Part of the testicles, crushed by his teeth, ends up on the ground, on a yellowish and reddish stain.

“Change of plans,” I say, realizing that I don’t have the tools I need to sew his mouth shut.

I take almost no effort to insert the knife into his mouth and cut the tendons of his tongue in a quick, effortless cut. The crimson fluid quickly gushed out, causing him to choke on it and the remains of his balls.

“Clean up all this shit and call a fucking ambulance. I don’t feel like finding a replacement for this fucking idiot,” I say as I light another cigarette. The stench of iron, sweat and vomit soon evaporates with the smoky scent of tobacco.

“What’s going to happen to the girl?” Polina asks behind me in a whisper.

“Do whatever you want with her. Just don’t bring me any more trouble.” Before leaving, I glance over my shoulder and talk. “If you ever lay your hands on any of them again, you can forget about your limbs.”

His eyes remain fixed on mine, pain still visible in them before they close completely. His chest continues to rise and fall, barely noticeable to others, although I didn’t hit him very hard. If he had suffered the same fate as my uncle, I’m sure he would have passed out before even starting.

A new message vibrates in my jeans pocket as I straddle the bike and start the engine. I take it out and read it.

Denis: Liam. 25.3289º N, 52.1854º E

Four years ago in St. Petersburg, Russia

Age 19

I rang the apartment bell for the second time. On the other side, something fell to the floor, followed by a ‘fuck, I’m coming’. Soon, footsteps approached us, and someone unlocked the door, opening it. His angry face relaxed when he saw me, his lips stretched into a smile revealing his rotten teeth hidden behind dental veneers.

“Your father didn’t tell me you were coming.” He scanned my body with that look that, far from changing over the years, had only intensified. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re all grown up.”

My insides twisted with revulsion, but my expression remained impassive. That’s when he noticed the presence behind me, his brows furrowing as he saw the gore on my companion’s fingers. My fist smashed into his nose before he could continue to inquire about what was happening, blood splattering my knuckles and face. His scream echoed off the walls of the hallway with an unpleasant echo, but not a soul would come to help him. We had taken care of them.

He opened and closed his eyes, trying to adjust to the intense light in the bedroom. Confusion flashed through his mind in a burst that faded. Every pore expressed rage as he realized that someone had tied his wrists and ankles to the bed. All clothing had been removed from his body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He thrashed wildly on the mattress in a futile attempt to free himself. “Let me go.”

Denis appeared from behind, holding a rifle with barbed wrapped around the barrel.

“Are you a top or a bottom, sweetheart?” he asked mockingly. His smile reflected how much he was enjoying the situation, perhaps even more than I was, despite it being something I had been waiting for years.

All the false courage he had always used to attack innocent lives vanished, revealing his true self.

“W-what are you going to do with that?” he stammered, an incredulous look on his face. Then he turned to Denis. “Who are you?”

“The one who’s going to make you scream like a bitch.” A dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes, his lips stretching even further.

I took one last drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out on the sole of his foot. He pressed his lips together and threw his head upwards, struggling to hide a guttural moan of pain. I picked up the container of acid. His Adam’s apple moved fiercely as I brought it closer to his balls. My nose wrinkled as I saw his dick harden. The bastard must have been sicker than I imagined if he could get hard with this.

“You know Kristoff will not like this. Let me go, and maybe he’ll forgive you. I won’t say anything…”

“Shut up, you motherfucker!” Denis said. His voice overflowed with excessive rage. “I’m going to rip your fucking head off…” The rest hung in the air as I dropped the liquid. His screams sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. It was music to my ears, the best of symphonies.

My gaze stayed on the skin of his testicles being eaten away until none remained. The smell was putrid. A mixture of rancid fat and burnt hair. I poured the liquid again, leaving only shattered tendons, blood, and something whitish. Then I turned him over and straddled him. His body, on the verge of unconsciousness, could not fight back.