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“I’m glad you’re still awake. It makes this process so much sweeter. Now, I’ve already returned the blows you gifted Patience. This is purely for me.”
His shoulders lift off the ground, as he tries to break free, but all it manages to do is make him look like a worm writhing in the heat of the sun.
Reaching for the mat of tools I’ve prepared, I drag it closer to me. Lifting the eight centimeter hook off the mat, I let the weight of it steady my hand. The metal shimmers in the moonlight, and I bring it to his eye, ensuring he’s able to see it through the bruising. The white of his eyes expands on a moan as I use my knee to hold his upper body down. Running the hook along his skin, I stop the tip just between his shoulders and bear down. It takes exceptional force, before a pop lets me know I’ve lined it up between his ribs correctly. Lennox’s muffled screams and writhing make slipping the hook beneath the spine exceptionally difficult, but with a tug on the hook, the end breaks through the skin on the opposite side of the spine.
Sweat beads down my face. I reach up to wipe my brow, and my hand begins to cramp. I clench and unclench my fingers while Mark clicks his tongue behind me.
“I told you it would be too difficult without the drill.”
Some things…you just want to do by hand. My muscles ache to memorize each tug of a ligament wrapping around the blade. The thought of Patience waking up without me being by her side coils my stomach. As much as I want to savor each punishing injury, I want to be by her side more.
“Fine, give me the drill. Litza’s probably getting tired by now.”
The playful smile falls from Mark’s face as he absentmindedly rubs the welt on his head.
“She’ll forgive you in time.”
He nods and steps back, allowing me space to work.
Time ceases to exist as the thoughts of Patience and retribution take hold.
38
My eyelids feel like sandpaper as I pry them open. Light spills across the white comforter. At the end of the bed, Ethan sits draped in a chair, his hair in disarray. My throat feels like I’ve spent all night at a concert. Letting out a cough, I try to sit up. He jumps from his seat and comes to the edge of my bed.
“Shh. Don’t move, darling. You’ve taken a few too many blows.” He brushes the hair out of my face, and I smile at the simple touch.
“You don’t have to tell me. I was there.”
Ethan’s eyes flash with an animalistic quality. I can tell rage simmers just below the surface. The fact that it is on my behalf warms my chest. He clutches the comforter for a moment, then nods.
“Is he dead?”
“He certainly is…” Ethan releases the comforter and smooths it back down. “Possibly my best work,” he says, lifting a photograph from the bedside table.
My eyes fall to the image of Lennox strung up in a tree. His body hovers horizontally by ropes slipped through four hinges placed along his body from neck to hips. Each of his extremities twists upward at odd angles from hinges placed through his wrists and ankles. It’s breathtaking. Stunning, really. The moment of a man’s fall. My eyes trail to the string falling from his stomach, and I can’t help but smile. Not a string then.
“The evisceration was a nice touch. What happened to I’m particular in my art?” I sing mockingly. Though, I must admit I’m pretty proud of the accent.
“What can I say, darling, I was overcome with inspiration.” Sweeping his arm across his waist, he bends in a dramatic bow.
The ridiculous theatric pulls a laugh from me.
“I did! I did want to do that! Why would I cut the man to pieces otherwise? No. Mark and your sister decided to do it their way.”
I let out a light laugh and try to sit up again before freezing in place.
“Where is Litza?”
He points to the door.
“She’s across the hall, asleep. We’ve been taking turns looking after you. Do you want me to go get her?”
I shake my head.
“No. Let her sleep. If you guys have been taking shifts, I’m assuming I’ve been out for awhile.”
“Two days.”
