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He’s terrified, but even in death, his depravity gets the better of him. A darkness known only by the truly depraved enters his eyes. “Oh yeah, her… that ripe piece of pussy in Jacksonville.”
Rage flies through me. I shove Belle’s picture back into my pocket and slide my knife from the sheath on my hip.
It was his semen found inside Belle.
It was his semen found in her mouth.
Not that the court ever heard about it.
“You will not disrespect her again. Do you fucking understand me?” I push harder on his throat and slide the blade of my knife down his cheek. “Now before I lose my patience, I want to hear you say that you’re sorry.”
His eyes widen with fear. “W-what?”
“Don’t make me tell you twice, motherfucker. I want to hear you say, I am sorry for raping and killing that innocent seventeen-year-old girl back in Jacksonville all those years ago.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries.
Of course, he’s not sorry for what he did. The only thing he’s sorry about is me knowing it was him and his two buddies who stumbled across Belle and me shortly after we’d left the abandoned theater.
How I know… they hit me from behind with an iron bar, knocking me out instantly.
That I know… every graphic detail of what they did to her as I lay unconscious on the roadside, useless and out cold.
That it was him who snapped her neck after they’d had their fun.
I dig the tip of the blade into his cheek, drawing first blood, and he winces.
“I said I was sorry,” he blubbers. “What… what do you w-want from m-me?”
“I want you to beg,” I growl. “Just like she would’ve begged for her life when you were violating her.”
His eyes cloud with panic. “Let me go, and I’ll make it worth your while. I’ve got money. Back at the trailer. It’s yours, all yours. Just don’t fucking kill me.”
“Go on.”
“I can get you whatever you need. You name it. My name means something around here.” It doesn’t. “You want grade-A pussy or cock? Money? Blow? Tell me. I’ll get you anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Yes. Anything. Just, please don’t kill me.”
I ease my hold on him a little. “Fine. I want you to say I am a raping son of bitch, and I deserve to go to hell for what I did.”
“W-what?”
I grit my teeth. “Say it.”
“Okay… okay… I’m a raping son of a bitch, and I deserve to go to hell for what I did.”
“Again.”
“W-what?”
“Say it again, asshole.” I drag my knife down his cheek.
“I’m a raping son of a bitch, and I deserve to go to hell for what I did.” He’s shaking. “There, I said it. I did what you asked, man.”
“I haven’t finished. Now, I want you to beg for your life.”
