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I sat next to him, on the bed, taking my knife that I always kept attached to me. At the sight of the stainless steel, Alexsei’s chest began to heave.
I traced the point over the eye that now held a patch, “Suits you.”
“Too bad Michael didn’t have a chance to see if it suited him.”
I chuckled, the beast in me begging to slit his throat but, no, I wanted to savor this.
Like any other, I wanted to taste and smell the desperation of Alexsei Banrov. I wanted him to experience every emotion Michael did when he drove a knife into his brain. I wanted him to feel how my wife did when he held a gun to her head.
“Don’t worry. I assume he will pay you back tenfold when you see him wherever you go.”
Meanwhile, I started to trace his other eye as he tugged at his restraints.
“Eli is normally the one that strives with a knife. You know my brother? He loves it. I do too. It’s so personal. There is nothing like seeing the terror and then that light dimming in a man’s eyes up close and personal…It’s addicting,” I said, my tongue clicking the roof of my mouth.
Alexsei began to pant then his chest froze as I applied just enough pressure to draw blood under his eye, close to his water line. He winced and inhaled a gust of wind as the blade broke the skin.
“Do you think that you will live to see 42 like your father did before my wife killed him?”
And that was enough to get the fucker to snarl at me.
I chuckled, “Still a sore subject…I see.”
“If your bitch didn’t kill my father none of this would have happened. Her brother died because of her stupidity.”
I tsked.
“Careful now. Remember what happened the last time.”
He pierced his lips but I could see the anger in his eyes. He still had fire. I wanted to suffocate it.
“Have you ever heard of the saying ‘death by a thousand cuts’?”
I started to trace his face again, that one droplet of blood leaving me thirsty for more.
He didn’t say anything as he tried to look at the blade from the corner of his eye.
“Now, it means when small bad things happen to someone instead of one huge disaster,” I paused, “but before it was considered an ancient form of torture in China.”
I continued to trace his face, moving down to the pulse at his neck before I landed on his chest.
“I prefer the old meaning,” I whispered before I used the knife to slice through his nipple.
He let out a piercing scream as the blood leaked from the wound.
“I think that is how this night will end for us.”
And so, our night was spent with me creating one cut after the other until the bed and I was soaked away in Alexsei’s blood: his screams haunting the streets.
By the time, I was sure he lost more blood than he humanly could before dying, I squatted next to his body.
He was hardly breathing, his eyes staring at the ceiling like he was seeing what people called the light at the end of the tunnel. I imagined he was walking to it as his eyes fought to stay open.
I didn't give him permission to go, my wife needed a souvenir.
“This is for my wife,” I said, causing him to slowly turn his head to me, the perfect angle for me to dig my knife into the inner corner of his socket and pry his last good eye from his skull.
He screamed and thrashed until the organ was in my hand, the nerve severed. Then his body deflated like a balloon that was pierced by a needle.
