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I've thought about this moment since the day Hope told me about him. I just didn't know how I was going to have fun with him, but Jackson said he would have everything ready that I would need and fuck did he come through on his word.
I know that Jackson hates this part of what we do, but I get a feeling that he’s going to enjoy this just as much as me.
Jackson and I were talking the other day, and he was saying that Hope needs something good to happen for her and killing this dick will be the second best thing. I asked what the first thing was and he replied with, "You."
Now I want Hope to live the best life. She's lived through hell, so it's about time she gets to live a good life but am I the right person to give that to her? The things I do right now are dark, and it will only bring her to the darkness I have inside.
I want to be the light in her life, but I need to finish what I've started. Until then, I don't think I should get too close to her. I'm already finding it harder to stay away from her; she's finally starting to open up to me now—getting comfortable. I've had a glimpse of what life will be like once she finally gets out of the dark place and I want to be there when she does.
As I walk into the room, I see Jackson standing with his back to me. I look over at Joseph with his hands strapped above his head.
"Did Hope enjoy her birthday?" Jackson asks as I stand next to him. "I got her something.”
"She did, I hope. What did you get her?" I ask as I light up a cigarette.
"I got it forher, and you can wait until she opens it.”
"When you coming over?"
"Tomorrow.”
Inhaling smoke, I look over to him. "Has he said anything?"
“I’ve not asked him anything.”
I'm not going to ask Jackson how he got him here, he'll just say the less I know, the better.
Walking over to the sick fucking asshole, I look at him, wondering what questions I want to ask. Questions about Hope. Questions abouthim.
"Why do you have me here? I don’t even know you." Joseph glares at me as I just stare—all I can do is stare at the evil bastard with his arms tied above his head and his legs tied at the ankles. This man has everything and could get any woman if he wanted her. I mean, he’s fucking rich. Jackson works for men like him all the time, men that are rich and can get what they want and when things go wrong they get divorced. None of them are sick enough to buy cute girls and do all that shit to them.
But I suppose a sick fuck like Joseph will never be normal.
"You’re right, you don’t know me, but you hurt someone that we’ve started to care about." I pull a chair over as he stares blankly at me.
"I’ve never seen—”
“No, you haven’t," I stop him. I mean, his voice is annoying me now. “We’ll get back to who it is in a little while. But first, I thought we could play a game." I grab the knife off the table. "I meanIwill play a game." I turn to him and smile.
Joseph’s eyes widen as I walk over to him. When I get started on this piece of shit he’s going to beg me to stop, he’s going to cry, he’s going to scream.
"Please," he snorts, his mouth twisting up at the corner into a snarl before he yells, "People will be looking for me, and when they find me, there'll be no place for you to hide. The bounty on your head will be so big; nobody will be able to resist taking you out for the cash!"
I don’t doubt that’s what he’d do, but I think it’s hilarious that he thinks he’s going to be leaving here on two feet.
I lift the knife to his left wrist, letting the cold blade slide across his skin to his forearm, his veins bulging from where he’s straining against the ropes. The look of shock on his face makes me smile, and his murderous words are cut off as he follows the path of the metal.
I continue down his arm, gradually tipping the blade against his skin until the sharp edge slices into his filthy flesh in the crook of his elbow. His scream echoes off the walls, and I stop.
“Wow.” I shake my head. “I barely made it an inch before you screamed. You’re a pathetic coward,” I say next to his ear, my voice low and menacing. “And to think, I haven’t even gotten started.”
His mouth opens to protest, but before any sound can pass his cracked and split lips, from panting so much his dried his lips so they are cracking, I make a quick move and slice into his right arm, giving him matching wounds.
I turn and slowly walk back to my chair and sit. I cross my leg over and lazily glance to the items on the table, eyeing up the next one I can’t wait to use. Oh, he’s not going to enjoy this, but I am.
Sulphuric acid has always been my go-to when it comes to these ugly assholes. I enjoy the sound of them screaming. They get a taste of how it felt for the young, innocent lives they destroyed.
"Are you not going to ask him?” Jackson asks as he comes over to stand by the table.
