Chapter 12
Texas
For a moment, a small, fleeting nightmarish moment, I was thought I was back where they made me kill for the first time.
Back then, I hated the man that I stood over. My foot pressed against his throat as he suffocated slowly. They made me cut him.
Exactly fifty little nicks to make him bleed slowly. Having to cut his eyelids was the worst, I think anyway.
My fingers had both wet and dried blood, and tears were falling like twin rivers down my face. I was chilled to the bone even though it had to be at least a comfortable seventy-three degrees.
The weather outside left something to be desired, and I knew the moment I stepped outside that the blood would run off my body.
I had on my black jeans, black hoodie, and my black converse sneakers. The shoes were heavy with a thick sole. I knew it hurt as my shoe dug in deep.
I applied the reluctant foot harder. Why wouldn't he just die already? It was the hardest thing I've ever done. The least he could do was accommodate me.
I drugged his coffee. He always drank coffee, they told me. I walked up to his door and asked if I could call my mom.
That was what they said I needed to do. Play the sympathy card.
He took the bait, and his face scrunched up in concern.
I'm sure he was a very nice guy. He pulled out some Oreos and gave me milk while we waited.
The moment his back was to me, I pulled out the liquid powder that would put him to sleep.
His eyes had turned glassy as it kicked in. He liked his coffee black, which helped me to mask the extra flavor.
It wasn't like I used much. I only needed time to tie him up so he couldn't fight back. The duct tape, felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Pulling long strips of the gorilla brand duct tape was hard.
It was stronger than the average duct tape. I wrapped the strips one by one around his wrists and ankles.
This would keep him steady enough. They told me I needed to tape him to the pipes. Grabbing his arms just between where the tape and wrists met.
Pulling was more work than I thought it would be. He was a tall, slim man, but he felt like he was fat.
Maybe it was the weight of my soul as I continued to make him the victim. I started cutting long before he awoke.
It was going to hurt, I knew this, but it would make it less difficult for us both. I got as many as I could.
His eyes opened wide the moment the drug wore off, and he started screaming. Grabbing the dishtowel, I confiscated from the counter I shove it into his mouth.
It hurt my ears to listen to his pain. It hurt my heart as he squirmed, trying to get away from the knife as it slowly sliced his flesh.
I was a monster, and I knew this wasn't going to be the last time I had to do this. After what felt like a millennium, I was on my feet and pressed my left foot into his throat, keeping my right on the floor for better balance.
He was begging me with his eyes to stop. He didn't want to die, and honestly, I didn't want to kill him.
"I'm so sorry Mr." I tell him.
Tears coated both of our cheeks. His tears were mixed with blood, and it turned them pink. I wanted to finish this, I needed to finish this.
Quickly, I put all my weight down on his throat, and it pressed down deep. His body jerked, and his eyes lost that light. The one saying he was with the living.
The windows to his soul, I just extinguished it. Snuffed it out like sand on fire. I sobbed louder as I removed my foot. My eyes closed as I looked away.
His body was already changing. It looked less normal, I couldn't explain it. Blood drained and pooled in the places that I pressed to the floor. Without his heart to pump it, it just flowed quickly to the bottom.
I'm not sure how long I stood there looking at his body, but I knew I needed to run. I needed away from there. Away from the ones who made me do this.
They were supposed to care for me, but I learned quickly that they weren't my parents. I was just a means to an end.
Pulling back to the present, I looked at the poor girl tied to the bed. She was fully clothed, and her long straight brown hair pressed against the pillows that were propping her up.
Big hard sobs shook from her body. I then did exactly what I wanted to do to earlier.
I turned and punched him in the throat.
I then watched as he crumpled to the floor and lost the ability to breathe. I pulled back my foot I slammed it into his head, knocking him out.
I walked over to the woman and eyed her warily. She's seen me, and if I let her go, she'll bring the cops. I couldn't have that. Pulling the gag from her mouth, I mummer.
"Name?"
"Lexa," she replies.
It was a strangely pretty name.
"Family, Lexa?" I ask.
She shook her head.
"I know what you're thinking, and I promise not to tell a soul. Truthfully, I want to stay with you," she tells me.
I stared at her like she was the man who killed Medusa. But instead of killing, she befriended her. No one wanted to be friends with the psycho.
"Please, " she begged.
I couldn't let her go and I sure as fuck didn't want to kill her. I looked at her and felt bad, she was already the victim. Just like I was. She was a victim of circumstance.
But what the fuck was I going to do with her? I knew of someone, but it was a last resort. Sam from the Aces MC. He would help look after her.
I stumbled upon Sam (also known as Tom) when I attempted to dump one of my marks. He grabbed the feet and nodded to my car. I had stared blankly at him. He was helping me dispose of an obvious body.
"We have a way to take care of this," he told me.
I look at his leather vest and read the 1% patch and smile. I knew what he was. It took all of two minutes to find my first best bud.
It wasn't the last time he helped me, and I knew he would take care of her. Although, I didn't want to dump her. Honestly, I never had a female friend. She was also a victim, someone who understood what it was like to live in a world filled with darkness and hate.
Cutting her loose, I turned back to my last mark.
The last person I will ever kill.