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I stand from the chair, shoving the hatchet in my back pocket as I rush forward, crushing his wrist beneath my foot when he tries to reach for his gun, and I kick the gun away with the toe of my other shoe. Turning on his side, his other arm wraps around my leg and I lift my foot again to slam it hard in his chest. He groans, and I send a few more blows to the front of his body until his arms drop to his side.
“Asshole,” he says between struggling breaths.
He bends his knees and I drop on top of him, straddling his stomach. “Stop moving or it'll be worse for you,” I say, grabbing his hair to lift his head enough to wrap the rope around his neck. Tangling it around my fingers, I tug on it, cutting off his air supply. His eyes bulge and he tries to speak. Twisting the two strands together, I tighten my grip, cutting off his unintelligible sounds.
Face turning purple, his arms flail beside him and his legs kick forward. Rocking his head from side to side, tears well in his eyes and I let go. He releases a few coughs, gasping for air, and I grab the hatchet from my pocket to press it to his colorless lips. “You know, all this time I let such a silly thing haunt my dreams. A small little object that can't cause any harm on its own. Completely useless sitting in front of a door or on the seat of a car.” Running the toe of the hatchet over his lip, I draw blood and he whimpers, tears falling down his cheeks.
“I think it's time I hold control over it and instead of being scared of a tool, I'll be the one people fear whenever it's resting between my fingers.” Lifting it a little higher, I quickly swing it forward and stop before the blade touches his nose. He flinches and trembles beneath me, tugging a harsh laugh from my throat. Flooded with adrenaline, I repeat my previous action and laugh as the heel barely slices his skin.
The next time I lift it, I slam it down hard, slashing his nose, the bone stopping me from going too far. Torturous screams come from beneath me and I drag out more when I put a large gash in his cheek. Something in me awakens and I can't stop, breaking the skin of his neck open with my next swing. His arms bleed as I cut into them, and the warm splashes hit my face. I keep going until his body stops twitching and his pitiful cries are fully replaced with a loud hacking sound, followed by ripping flesh.
The heavy door slides open again and I crawl forward, placing the hatchet between the fingers of my bionic hand. Grabbing the gun with my left hand, I stand on my feet.
“What the fuck?” another man says, glancing my way.
“On your knees,” I say.
He drops to the ground, folding his arms over his head. “Look, man, I was only following orders.”
“You do this to a lot of people,si? Not only men like me or you, but women and children too?”
“I—”
“Save it. You're the monster you are because you choose to be.” I walk closer, steadying my hand. “You would do this even if you had a choice. I can tell by looking in your eyes.” Another one of my strengths is reading people. It makes it easier to break them. I'm not perfect or innocent but at least I don't try to pretend to be. This prick wants to sit here feeding me bullshit as if it'll save his life.
“You don't have to do this.”
“Oh, but I'm only following orders,” I say, grinning.
He opens his mouth again and I pull the trigger, the bullet ripping through the flesh of his arm. I've been practicing with my left hand, slowly progressing over time. Will I ever be as good as I was with my right hand? Only time will tell. I won't stop trying. It's difficult to get a proper grip with my bionic fingers and the damn prosthetic always feels so heavy. It's better to do everything using one hand rather than bothering with dealing with all the hassle.
“You won't get out of here alive!” he screams.
I laugh at his fear and run the back of my hand over my wet, sticky face. Gunshots go off outside the room and the man glances behind him, shaking. Before he can face me again, I shoot him in the shoulder. He winces, biting back a scream. “If you're going to kill me, do it already.”
“Nah. Today you'll get a taste of your own medicine. Learn what it's like to be hacked up while still alive.”
A loud explosion nearby shakes the building.
“What's happening out there?” the man asks with fearful eyes.
Shaking my head, I snort and glance down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. “You assholes thought you were smart contacting my dad and my boyfriend, thinking you were setting up a perfectly good trap. All you did was lure yourselves into one.”
A loud boom leaves my ears ringing and I can't stop myself from cackling. “He came right when you asked him to. He's always been a man on time. At least in his mind. You see, to him, I was always late unless I showed up a few minutes early.”
Screams and shouts surround us, followed by more banging noises. Eventually everything around us falls silent, leaving only the noises of the guy's heavy breathing and soft sobs. “I could be of use to you,” he says with pleading eyes.
“Highly doubt it,” I respond, sizing him up as I inch closer. I shoot him again, the bullet tearing right through his other shoulder, and he falls forward, holding himself up with his hands. “Don't.”
Instead of responding with words, I kick him onto his back. “Tell me, what do you prefer to lose first?”
He lifts his hands in front of his face, a blubbering mess.
“Very well then,” I say, hacking at his fingers before moving to his wrists. Blood covers more of the ground, spraying between us as I think about all the awful shit they were planning to do to me. The anger spirals in me and once again I lose control. The more he cries and screams, the harder and faster I slash at him. I remove his ears, lips, and pieces of his face by the time the large door shakes open.
Fernando stands in the opening covered in soot, blood, and sweat, his face wrinkling with worry as he takes me in.“Pequeño.” He rushes my way, stopping halfway to glance down at the body on the floor.
“It's not my blood.” The hatchet and gun drop from my hands, hitting the floor with a clack.
