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I lift the bat and strike again and again. I’m rewarded with a loud groan each time, but it’s not enough. I want the screams I let out every time Dante hurt me.
I strike his chest one more time with the bat before I move onto the whip.
I don’t know if it will hurt more or less, but I plan on using every instrument I can until I hear the screams.
I’m not as skilled with the whip, so my first attempt misses, hitting the bed. But my second strike hits my target’s legs. His legs jump at the sting, leaving bright red welts.
It’s not enough.
I’ve formed the bruises on him with the bat. I’ve formed the redness with the whip. I need the scars. I need the cries.
The cock inside me was one of the worst. The absolute worst. I don’t want to fuck this man. He doesn’t deserve a second of my pleasure. But the next worst thing was the sharpness of the blade. Knowing he could take my life if he wanted with a slip of the knife.
I grab the sharp blade, and then I climb onto Dante’s body. I straddle his hard chest as I hold the knife to his neck as he has to me so many times before.
“Do it. I deserve it,” he says.
I freeze the knife over his artery. He does deserve it. He deserves to die.
I shove the knife hard against his neck until I see blood. But I still don’t hear screams. I need his screams! I need to know I hurt him as badly as he hurt me.
I remove the knife from his neck and aim for his heart, stabbing his chest.
He screams. It’s high pitched and terrifying, and it feeds my soul. I want more.
I stab him again. He’s going to get a slow torturous death.
“I’m so sorry, Gia. I’m so sorry. I deserve this.”
His voice makes me stop. That isn’t the voice of Dante.
I stop the knife and close my eyes, trying to push the hate back down. When I open again, I see Caspian on the bed. Bleeding to death.
“No! Oh my god! What did I do?”
I jump off of him, dropping the knife and race to get the first aid kit.
When I climb back on the bed, his breathing has slowed, and his eyes have grown heavy.
“Shh, you did nothing wrong. You did what had to be done. And if I die, it’s what needs to happen,” Caspian says.
I pull out gauze, covering the wound to attempt to stop the bleeding.
“Don’t talk like that. You aren’t going to die.”
But I’m not sure. There is a lot of blood. I don’t think I hit his heart, but I hit something major.
“Michi!” I yell, hoping he’s in the house or nearby. I get no answer.
I glance at the handcuffs I used to restrain him. I need the key to release him. He’s going to die restrained to his bed if I don’t help him.
Fuck.
But if I worry about releasing him, he will definitely die.
I dig through the first aid kit while I keep applying pressure with my other hand. I find the stapler and drugs I requested Michi stock after the last time Caspian was injured. I don’t have time for morphine though.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say calmly. I take out the stapler.
