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I knew she was drowning inside herself and struggling to figure out who she was while the demons screamed at her to let them out.
I knew all of that because once upon a very shitty, unfortunate time, that was me.
I was her.
I knew her.
We reflected off one another.
She was my beautifully dark motherfucking queen.
She was mine. I wasn’t letting her go even when it was all said and done and she hated my fucking guts—because she would. That was inevitable. I destroyed everything good that I touched. She’d just have to hate me with her pussy sitting on my face.
“Why…did you tie him that way?” she asked, breaking the silence and staring at Azel’s shabby, pale ass.
“We’re going to make him suffer until we get some answers.”
She nodded and approached me, holding on to Arlen’s arm to move forward.
“Calista, sweet girl––”
I was behind him, slamming his face into the cross before he could finish. “You don’t get to address her! The only time you get to open your mouth is to answer questions or fucking scream.”
“He’s pissin on himself.” Cobra pointed to the stream of urine running down Azel’s pale leg.
“Typical.” I stepped away from him with a look of disgust. “Pick a tool, Pixie.”
Without a word, she studied the altar and hummed beneath her breath, selecting the yellow drill. She clicked the button and smiled at me when it whirred.
A shocked cry had all of us turning our heads to see a nun had come around the corner. She screamed and took off for the door.
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“Fuck, I got it,” Grimm grumbled.
He hopped down the small step and took off after her.
Just before she reached the door, he lifted her up by the waist and flung her through the air. She bounced off a pew with a resounding boom and cried out when her body smacked the marble floor.
Grimm being Grimm wasted no time picking her up by the neck and squeezing the life from her body. She wildly swung her arms at him, gasping and kicking her legs. It took thirteen seconds for her to pass out and another two to kill her. She died so fast, if it wasn’t for him carelessly tossing her body over the back of a pew, it would be easy to believe it never happened.
“You have three strikes to tell me where David is, starting now.” My impatience was starting to kick in and I was tired of being inside the church.
“I don’t know—”
“Strike one—just because I know you’re about to bullshit me.”
Cali stepped up beside me with the drill in her hand and looked to me for instruction.
“Make it hurt.”
“Make it hurt,” she repeated. Her eyes travelled over every inch of him, landing on his hands. She stepped closer and raised the drill to the back of his left one and held the button down.
The drill bit spun around, only twisting his skin at first, gradually drilling into his flesh.
“Stop! Please just stop!” he screamed in agony.
I gently pulled Cali’s hand away, revealing the tiny hole she had started to make on the back of his hand.
