“Not so pretty now,” I mock, kicking him in the stomach, winding him.
Jupiter helps me drag him into the living room.
His being drunk helps us subdue him quickly.
Jupiter drags over a chair, shoving him onto it.I riffle through the duffel bag we brought and find the zip ties.I yank his arms behind him and restrain him.
He soon sobers up when I stand in front of him and remove my wig, shaking out my hair.“Remember me?”I mock with a grin.
His eyes widen with recognition.They soon turn to hate.“You fucking psycho bitch!I’m going to fucking kill you!”
Jupiter clucks her tongue.“That’s no way to speak to a lady.”
I laugh manically.
Jack looks at Jupiter, then me, with an expression of utter horror and confusion.“What’s going on?Is it money you want?I have lots of it.”
I shake my head.“I don’t want your money.”
“Then what do you want?”he screams, struggling against the restraints.
I lift my face to the heavens and inhale in victory.“There’s no winning against people like you.I see that now.So I’ll just have to settle with taking your head…just how we did with Rebecca.”
“We?”he asks, meeting my eyes, confused.
“You’ve destroyed countless lives.Your kind don’t learn.They only take and take until there’s nothing left!”I slap his bleeding cheek, and when my hand comes away with blood, he pales.
I wipe it down my face, leaving a war mask in its wake.
“Help!”he screams, but there’s no help.
Only hell.
Jupiter passes me the hunting knife.“Thank you.”
“Who the fuck are you talking to?”he cries, terrified.
Seems I punched him a little too hard, and his tiny brain is rattled inside his head.
“Talking time is over.”
Without warning, I plunge the knife into his thigh.This time, it’s the other leg to the one I stabbed the night in the garage.
It takes a few seconds before he realizes what I’ve done.
A howl follows soon after.
I slam my hand over his mouth, muting his cries.“Stop being a baby.”
His winded puffs push past my hand, his eyes begging me to stop.
“Youcreated this monster,” I say, lowering my face to his.“You’ve only got yourself to blame.”
I remove my hand and yank out the knife, pressing my hand over the wound to stop the bleeding.I intentionally missed the femoral artery.I’m not done with him—not by a long shot.
“Confess what you did, and I’ll let you live.”
I have no intention of that happening, but before I end his life, I need him to admit what he did and to say sorry.
