Chapter 17
He made me kill him sooner than I wanted, sooner than I would have. I couldn’t listen to Kylie and let justice do its job. He made me stick my blade through the side of his neck and watch the red spray out of him, because he has zero fucking remorse. How he described what he did to that little girl—I couldn’t hear another second of it.
Blood drains from George’s body.
My gloved hands release him, he falls to the floor. His blood is pooled around my feet and now his corpse. My cold eyes stare at Kylie and watch her run from the room.
Standing above his lifeless body, I bring the blade down, landing it perfectly in his eye socket. I repeat the motions, destroying his other eye and leaving nothing but black, bloody holes. I stab him a few more times, and then unzip his dirty, worn-out jeans. Pulling his flaccid penis out, I grip it in one hand, and with the other I slice through the flesh, cutting it clean through and removing it from his body. I open his mouth and shove his penis inside.
With the other five men, I tortured them before slicing their throats, but the anger I felt when he said those things about Kylie’s sister made me end him right then. I couldn’t prolong his death, but I wasn’t done making him pay. He may not feel the pain I’m inflicting, but I feel good inflicting it nonetheless.
I wipe his blood from my blade on his dingy grey t-shirt then drop the knife into my bag, remove my gloves, and zip up the bag. Walking out of the room and leaving his mutilated corpse behind, I have no regrets. I don’t feel remorse for what I did. Yes, I may have taken them from their families, but I had reason. They had no reason to take my mother from me.
Outside, the cool air hits me, and I search for Kylie, but she’s already gone. I figured she would be, but I hoped that she would understand why it had to be done, why I had to kill these men—especially George.
He was the worst of them all: he’s the one that took her sister and he’s the one the slit my mother’s throat, which is why I left him for last.
I walk back to the car, where Brent is waiting. When I shut the door I ask, “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“Because she needed to hear it from him.” His eyes bore into mine in the rearview mirror.
“That wasn’t your decision to make,” I tell him, dumbfounded as to why he would risk me going to prison.
“Maybe not, but you wanted more than just hotel rendezvous with her. You can’t have a relationship based on lies, Jameson. She needed to know the real you.” He starts the Bentley and begins to drive.
“And now she knows! She ran out and I’ll never hear from her again.” I shake my head. “What the fuck did that accomplish, besides my possible prison sentence?”
“Give her some time. After all these years, she finally found out what happened to her sister and found out the man she’s in love with is a killer.” He gazes at me for a second then brings his eyes back to the road.
“I can’t give her time, Brent. The cops could come knocking on my door.” I sit back in the seat and run a hand down my face.
“She won’t turn you in,” he states confidently, but I’m not so sure. I mean, this is her job on the line.
My brow cocks. “What makes you so sure?”
“Love is a powerful emotion, Boss.” Don’t I fucking know it. Because of love I slipped up, let her get too close, and now I could pay for it.
Brent pulls the Bentley into its usual parking space. I go up to the penthouse to take a shower to try to wash away my sins, but it never fully works. After I wash away George’s blood, I turn off the water and wrap a towel around myself. I go back into the living room, over to the wet bar, and pour myself a drink. Picking up my phone, I try to call Kylie, but she doesn’t answer, so I send a text.
Each passing minute that ticks by that I don’t hear from her I grow more worried. Not only for myself, but for her too. I want to be there for her and comfort her, but I know she doesn’t want to see me or she would have been waiting outside. I’ve scared her, hurt her, and she probably will never want to hear from me again. Doesn’t mean I’ll let her go that easily, though.
I try her number over and over, but she never responds, never picks up the phone and says hello. I drink more and more until the bottle of Scotch is gone. I open another; I drink until I can’t function. I fall onto the couch, and my eyes close only for the nightmare to return.
“Mom, that movie was awesome!” I say excitedly as I look up at her. She took me to see Jurassic Park at the cheaper theater in town because I have been bugging her for months to take me. We don’t have much money anymore since my dad left a couple of years ago. He’s always busy, but he makes time for me when he can.
I hear mom crying at night sometimes when I’m supposed to be sleeping; she talks on the phone telling someone how he hasn’t paid her money he owes her. I don’t really know why he doesn’t, because my dad has lots of money.
“I’m glad you liked it.” She smiles down at me and ruffles my hair. She made me wear my best pair of jeans and a button-down shirt and she put on her favorite dress and heels for tonight, making it a special occasion instead of just a movie. She told me—with the biggest smile and sparkling eyes—we we’re having a mother-son date night. It made me laugh seeing my mom so happy.
We continue walking to the car that’s parked a ways away from the theater. It was the only spot we could find empty as people hadn’t left their jobs for the day yet. Now that it’s dark and no one is around it’s kind of scary; this side of town isn’t as nice as the other. “Are you ready for some ice cream?”
“Yes!” I tell her excitedly. I think Mom is trying to make up for my father ditching me again. I’m pretty used to it by now, but she always feels bad. It’s the fifth time in two months and his excuse is always that he has to work. I might be more upset if I had seen more of him before he finally left.
Mom keeps looking over her shoulder as we’re walking; maybe she’s scared too. Her hand lands flat on my back as her steps quicken. “Don’t turn around,” she tells me quietly.
My heart begins to race and I grow even more scared. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be at the car soon.”
I hear the pounding of footsteps behind us. As they grow closer, we walk faster, but so do they. Tears form in my eyes as my scared feeling gets even stronger. I turn to look even though she told me not to; six men are coming for us. “Mom!” My lip quivers and voice wobbles.
We run; they chase us.
We make it to the end of the block before they do, and we take a right. “Run, Jamie,” Mom tells me, pushing me forward. She knows we have no chance of making it to the car before they catch us. I take off and go down a dark alley. The only light comes from the moon and streetlamp, but I find a stack of flats and hide behind them. I can see through the gaps between, but no one would be able to see me; I’m hidden enough in the darkness.
Mom’s scream fills the quiet street, but it’s cut off. My body shakes with fear, tears brim my eyes, and I wait.
They drag her to the opening of the alley; a man holds his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. Her body is thrown to the ground. Fear cripples me; I can’t move and I try to not make a sound so they won’t find me too.
All six men wear denim jackets; I can see the backs of two and the red skull they both wear in the middle. One man holds her arms while another holds her legs open. I want to scream for them to let her go, but I can’t.
One of the men pulls a knife from his pocket; he pulls at mom’s dress and slices through the material in a long line. The dress opens freely, showing her underwear and bra. His knife slashes through them as well, and her bare body is exposed to everyone in sight. Their laughter is loud, evil. Mom squirms, trying to break free, but they’re too strong.
“Where’d the boy go?” one questions; I watch her head shake.
“Such a hot little bitch,” another says.
One by one they undo their jeans, freeing themselves and putting something on before each man hovers over her when it’s their turn. They move their big bodies against hers as she continues to try and struggle, but she isn’t strong enough. Their grunting can be heard from where I stay hidden.
The man holding his hand over her mouth yells out in pain and lifts his hand from her lips. “This cunt just bit me!” She screams a final time, and they punch her in the face over and over until she goes quiet, without any fight left within her. Holding my shaking hand over my mouth, I cry silently as I witness what they are doing to her.
They flip her onto her stomach and continue taking turns. I don’t know how long it’s been, but when the last man stands breathless, he takes the knife from the side of his jeans again. He grabs her hair, yanking her head back. He puts the knife up to her throat and slides it across. Blood seeps out and he lets go; her head falls to the gravel.
She lies there lifeless and they stand above her, admiring what they have done, high-fiving one another and laughing. They zip up their jeans and leave her there. I wait.
When I know they’re gone, I quietly come out from behind the flats and run to her. “Mom?” She doesn’t answer.
“Mom? Wake up!” I shake her still, lifeless body.
I check for a pulse and her red blood stains my hand—but no beat.
“Mom.” I lay my head on her back, hold her, and cry until I fall asleep.
I’m woken up by someone tapping my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I look at the person—it’s a police officer.
“What happened here?” He’s looking at my mom, horrified.
“My mom, she was killed. They hurt her and killed her,” I cry.
“Okay, I need you to get up now.” His voice is kind. “I need you to come with me.” He has a walkie-talkie type of thing he talks into, telling more people to come.
“I can’t leave her.” I hold her tighter.
“We need to take her in an ambulance and we need to take you somewhere safe.” I nod as tears flow down my cheeks.
The officer helps me up and to his car. I watch as police cars come, and an ambulance. They put her on a stretcher and take her away.
They ask me over and over what happened and I tell them everything except what the men were wearing. I said I couldn’t see the men, but I only did that because I promised my mom I will get revenge for her.
They tried calling my dad, but he didn’t answer. My Aunt Katherine and Uncle Theo came to get me. Katherine cried a lot when they told her that her sister had been murdered.
I went home with them and never left because my dad didn’t want me. He ended up signing papers from a judge saying so.
It’s been a few weeks since I last talked to or saw Kylie. I call and text multiple times every day, but she never responds. I’ve tried to drown myself in work, but I can’t concentrate. At this point, I couldn’t give a fuck less if my company goes under. My father can have it all back; I just want to hear her voice, make sure she is okay after seeing what I did.
The cops haven’t come busting down my door, so I’m assuming Brent was right and she hasn’t turned me in. I won’t allow her to avoid me any longer. She has questions that need answers, and I’m willing to answer them. I just need her to see me, talk to me. I take the keys for the Lamborghini, drive to her apartment building, and wait outside of her door. I figure this is a better idea than using the spare key again; she might really shoot me this time. While I wait, I place the spare key back under her doormat.
I’ve been sitting outside her front door for the last two hours. I know she’s not at home because I’ve had Brent watching her just to make sure she is safe. The last update I received was thirty minutes ago saying she had left work.
“Jameson.” I look up into those gorgeous grey eyes. She’s lost some weight, her eyes are ringed with black, and she is paler than normal. She looks just as bad as I do. I don’t know if it’s because she misses me or because of what I’ve done.
“We need to talk.”