Yes, I said chonky, and I wasn’t taking it back. I liked chonky, and anyone who didn’t could go fuck themselves.
Speaking of judgy assholes, Rick the Dick was groaning and his eyelids were fluttering open. I was in some nice comfy torture clothes, and I was sitting on a chair in front of Rick. The guys had ever so helpfully dragged it over so I could sit down.
You know, so I wouldn’t get tired while I waited for him to gain awareness. Like I was some delicate little flower. Meanwhile they were both leaning against the wall by the door like they were holding the cabin up with their very manly muscles.
That was fine. They were being sweet in an awkward way. But they were generally awkward, so I didn’t take it personally.
“...the fuck?” Rick slurred out, his head lolling a bit.
“Hey, Ricky boy. You back with us in the land of the living? At least for now?” I asked.
His head sort of rolled around a bit more, so I put my hand up and snapped my fingers in front of his face a few times. That got him to focus on me.
“I didn’t even drug youthatmuch. You really are a lightweight,” I scoffed.
My disdain seemed to break through to him, because he finally focused on me. He still looked a little confused, and he must have tried to move his arms, because he grimaced when he realized they were tied behind his back, then he tried shifting his legs. He struggled for a bit, obviously taking a moment to realize he was tied to a chair.
“Not very bright, is he?” Jude asked.
“I don’t know. Josh must have seen something in him,” Dexter replied, ever loyal.
Rick stilled at that, looking around and finally taking in his surroundings. His gaze settled on me, and it was like I could see the cogs turning in his little brain.
“You’re the girl from the club. You bumped into me.”
“Ding, ding, ding. Give the man a gold star,” I said sarcastically. I reached forward and squeezed his cheeks between my fingers, making his mouth all smushy. “Look, that pretty face is good for something after all.”
He jerked away, then he spit at me. I could hear Jude and Dexter moving behind me, but I just put a hand up, even though Rick’s attention immediately went to them.
I grabbed his face again. “You don’t need to look at them. They’re not the ones you need to worry about, sweetie. I’m the one you need to worry about.”
With that, I let his face go. He stared at me, and I could see hatred in his eyes. He tried to cover it up, but I knew it was there. That deep disdain and hatred for anyone he thought was less than him. That was the thing with people like him—he thoughteveryonewas less than him.
It was like a movie in my head as I focused in on him—I could see flashes of all the shitty things he’d done. All the relationships he’d been in. All the times he’d hurt people. He thought so highly of himself, that he was better than everyone else. He thought he was a god among men. He made his lovers think that about him, too. He played them, made them love him, made them think they were special and wonderful and unique, and then he slowly tore them down and found little ways to hurt them so he could feel bigger than them. He put himself on a pedestal, and he kept them cowering at his feet.
He hurt them because he could. Because it made him feel better about himself. It was time to pay those hurts back. It was time to pay him back for Josh, and for all the other people he hurt. I saw the moment in the apartment between him and Josh so clearly in my head. Josh pressed against the cabinets, bruises forming on his back, Rick’s hands and words bruising the sweet man.
I reached behind him and grabbed onto Rick’s wrist, squeezing it in my hand until I could feel bones grinding.
“What the fuck, bitch,” he muttered.
He didn’t get anything else out before I let go and then slapped him across the face, hard, and I was happy to see his head whip to the side.
“An eye for an eye, Ricky boy. Very old school, isn’t it? A kind of ancient magic in it, I think. Time to pay your dues. Not just for Josh, either.”
I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back hard, forcing tears to come to his eyes. Then I leaned down and bit his lip until I tasted blood, ignoring his screaming and thrashing, biting down with all my strength and feeling the flesh give way beneath my teeth. I pulled off and spit blood out, and I heard one of the guys mutter, “Ewww,” behind me. I silently agreed, a little grossed out I had to taste this asshole’s blood.
The things I’d do for revenge.
I ignored the gross factor, though, and scratched my nails down his neck, being sure to cut in and draw more blood.
“Come on, baby, doesn’t that feel good?” I asked, knowing that he’d done all these things to others. Sometimes he pretended it was for pleasure, but sometimes he didn’t bother.
I let the hand holding his hair go, and I reached out with both hands, grabbing onto his nipples, pulling and twisting as he cried out in agony.
“What’s wrong, Ricky boy, can’t you take what you dish out?” I briefly let go and then gripped on even harder,reallypulling. “You tell them they’ll like it. You tell them they should feel good even when you know you’re hurting them.”
I let his nipples go, then I reached out and slapped him a few times, hard enough to make him dazed. He was whimpering, his head rolling around, his lip and neck bleeding.
