"You need to understand," Jack stammered, trying to catch her gaze but faltering. "I didn’t mean anything by it. It… it was never supposed to go this far."
But Scarlett shook her head, incredulous. “How could you think that? You raped me. You fucking beat me. You even fucked me with a broken pool stick! Your actions meant everything. They fucking shattered me, and you have no idea how hard I fought to put the pieces back together,” she screamed, shaking as rage flowed through her.
She reached out, her fingers brushing against the array of tools on the table, picking up a dull knife with a shaky hand. The blade glimmered, and for a moment, she hesitated, her strength wavering. But the look on Jack’s face, the fear bleeding through his bravado, ignited a fire in her.
“I’m not here to bargain or for you to plead for mercy,” she said, voice steady now as she stepped closer. “You made your choice, Jack. You hurt my family, and for that, you will pay.”
I held my breath as she raised the knife, a mixture of horror and admiration engulfing me. At that moment, I wanted to rush in, take it from her hand, shield her from crossing that line, but I knew this was something she had to do alone. This was her catharsis, her chance to reclaim her narrative.
Jack's eyes widened, pure fear now twisting his features. “Wait, wait!” he shouted, panic unleashing a primal instinct within him. “You don’t have to do this!”
But his words fell flat against her resolve. “No. I’m not better than this. This is who I am,” she spat, voice unfaltering. It was like watching a storm brew on the horizon: dark and tempestuous.
As she thrust the knife forward, I felt time suspend, every heartbeat echoing like a drum. The tension was electric,confusion and anguish reaching its pinnacle—and in that moment, it wasn’t just Jack that would face the consequences of his actions; it would be Scarlett’s spirit, forever altered by the choice she was about to make.
She stabbed him over and over until the knife broke, and she laughed as she threw it to the floor and grabbed the drill off the table, a devilish grin on her face. Beckoning Kellin over, she handed it to him and went back to choose another weapon.
"I want his eyes gone. I can't stand the way he keeps looking at me," she stated, nodding to Kellin as he turned on the drill and stepped closer to Jack.
His eyes went wide and his body began to shake in fear, though he could've been going into shock from all the stab wounds he had. Kellin still stepped closer and closer until he was inches away from him. He grabbed the back of his neck and put the drill in front of his face, aiming the sharp bit at one of his eyes.
"Sorry, you heard the lady," Kellin said laughing, before going in and pressing the drill bit into Jack's eye until it fell from the socket mangled.
He then did the same thing with the other one, and Scarlett just watched in satisfaction with an excited smile on her face. The guys looked grossed out as they stared at the mutilated eyes on the floor, but this was nothing I hadn't seen before, so it didn't bother me one bit.
Scarlett reached for the pool stick I brought her, and when she broke it over her knee, Jack gasped and screamed as loud as he could, but outside no one could hear him. She motioned for me to cuff his ankles to the hooks embedded into the floor, which left him hanging with his legs spread, and we all knew what was about to happen.
As I obeyed her command, securing Jack's ankles to the hooks, I could feel a palpable shift in the atmosphere. Scarlett’s fury wasa living entity, a wild thing unleashed from within her. I fastened the last cuff and then stepped back, my eyes never leaving hers. The anticipation danced in her gaze, and for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I saw a flicker of peace—an assurance that this was right, that justice would finally be served.
Scarlett stepped closer, brandishing the broken pool stick like a scepter of vengeance. “You think you can keep hurting people without consequences?” She sneered, her voice imbued with a savage confidence. “You thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?”
Jack writhed helplessly, the remnants of bravado fading rapidly as he recognized the depth of his impending doom. “Give me one more chance, Scarlett!” he pleaded, the fear etching deeper lines on his bloodied face.
But his words were nothing more than desperate gasps, and Scarlett’s eyes hardened. “You had your chance when you made the choice to hurt me,” she spat, the words laced with venom. “This is for every moment I spent feeling worthless, every day I woke up feeling like a shadow of myself because of you.”
With a feral cry, she raised the splintered stick and brought it down hard against Jack’s thigh, eliciting a scream that echoed off the soundproofed walls. The sound was almost musical to her ears, a symphony of retribution that resonated with every part of her being. She struck again, this time smashing it against his other leg, relishing the power coursing through her veins.
“Every bruise you left on me, every tear you forced from my eyes,” she panted, swinging the stick with unrestrained ferocity. The wood splintered further, fragments scattering across the floor like remnants of her past self. “You thought you could strip me of my worth, and for a while, you succeeded. But not anymore.”
The guys watched in still silence, each processing the visceral reminder that pain could easily morph into power. I could feel the mixture of morals raging within me, but I wouldn’t interrupt. This was her moment, one carved in agony but now awash in catharsis.
The final act with the stick was terrifying to watch but we did. She stepped up behind him and pushed the splintered end of the stick right into his ass, viciously thrusting, dry as sandpaper, and she didn't stop until she was satisfied with the amount of blood he lost that dripped down the back of his legs.
Scarlett then dropped the broken, bloody stick, its power spent, and stormed over to the table, rummaging fervently for something that could extend this moment of justice. Her gaze landed on a length of thin rope and a metal wrench, and she turned around, eyes glimmering with a madness that sent a shiver down my spine.
“Let’s see how you like being tied up,” she said, her voice like honey dripping with malice.
Rushing back to Jack, she wasted no time binding his torso with the rope, her hands moving deftly as she secured him tightly.His whimpers intensified, and she leaned in, close enough that I could see the pure intensity in her eyes.
“You made this bed,” she hissed, “now you get to lie in it.”
We watched, terror grinding Jack's features into new shapes, unable to comprehend that the woman he had tried to crush had become a force of nature. She turned the wrench in her grip like it was a knife, a specialized tool of torment, and with a sharp twist, began to tighten it around Jack’s wrist. The sharp tone of metal against skin echoed in the room.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer,” Scarlett said, and my chest tightened.
It pained me to see how the darkest parts of her spirit were embracing the chaos, but I couldn’t bring myself to intervene yet. This was part of her journey—a reckoning long overdue.
Her breathing came out in ragged, uneven bursts as she tightened the wrench further, eliciting a pained gasp from Jack. Hmouth widened, desperation flooding his features as he struggled against the confines of his bonds. The once-confident perpetrator of violence was now reduced to a pitiful, trembling wretch, and the sheer catharsis of it thrummed through Scarlett like a steady pulse.
