Page 16 of Wreck and Ruin
“The church,” she whispers.
What fucking church?
I remove my hand from her breast, sliding it down to cup her pussy, shaking my head slightly in disgust as I start to finger her.
“I'm so fucking sorry,” my whispered words crack, and she struggles beneath me. The knife, still pressed to her throat, slices her skin as she cries out in pain. She's doing this on purpose because her expression says something else entirely.
“My daughter, Mikaiah, she's only seven. They took her,” her soft voice cracks and trembles, and I can feel my blood pound in my ears in cold-blooded fury.
If her daughter is seven, then she must have had her when she was no older than fourteen. I look down at her, letting her read the silent message on my face, telling her what I'm about to do. She nods slightly. Then, a beat later, I drive my cock into her as she frantically kicks and twists to fight me off, her voice thick with pain as she begs me to stop.
Bile rises in my throat, but her next words have my thoughts spiraling, and my focus shifts from the guilt of what I'm doing to her words instead.
“The church,” she keeps repeating. I want to ask why. Instead, I place my free hand on top of her head, fisting her dark hair before yanking it backward, letting my fist knock the headboard with each thrust, giving them the illusion that there is more of a struggle going on with every sound.
“I promise you. I will do my best to save your daughter,” I whisper in her ear between labored breaths.
Then, I pull her earlobe into my mouth with my tongue and bite down hard. Her blood pools in my mouth as my teeth slice and bite through her skin, removing her entire earlobe as I rip my head back with a forced jolt.
This time, her screams are real.
Her eyes squeeze shut as she rides out the pain.I'm so fucking sorry. I'm sorry.I don't say this, though. I want to. Instead, I say nothing as she wails in the agony I’m putting her through.
“Tell her that I loved her... t-till my very last breath. That everything I did, I did for h-her. To save her. To f-find her. Tell her, please. But most importantly. Tell her that I am proud of her, and I'll be watching her from the skies,” she chokes up, her now quiet voice raw and breaking as blood and tears mix together, coating our scarred, naked bodies. “Tell her that her m-momma loves her more than all the stars,” she sobs now, and I know what I have to do. This is the most disgraceful, un-fucking-forgivable thing I'll ever do in my miserable, good-for-nothing life.
“I promise. I have to say goodbye, Angel. I can only follow through with this if I can't hear you cry.”
“Thank you. I don't hate you for this. Please just save my baby.”
“I'll die trying,” I say before pressing my lips to hers again, only this time, she kisses me back.
I grip the knife tighter, lifting it away from her throat, then lean back slightly. Not allowing myself any time to think, I drive the knife downward and into the place between her eyes with every bit of strength I have left in me, her blood now dripping from my face. I move my body, staying in place long enough that it looks convincing as I fake my release, hating every minute, every second that I breathe afterward.
Guilt wraps its claws around my broken, tainted heart, and it’s all I can do not to turn this room into a fucking bloodbath, starting with Valerie. But I just made a promise. And it may not be much, but I can't let her down.
I remove myself from her slowly, committing her face, the scene to memory. I deserve to see the aftermath of what I’ve done, and to live with the torment that will undoubtedly follow me until I'm nothing more than a pile of rotten bones.
“That was so romantic!” Valerie shrieks, jumping up and down in one spot, clapping like a lunatic.
Someone throw that fucking cunt a fish.
“It was the most visually poetic thing I've ever seen.” This comes from one of the bodyguards. My head spins in his direction. He's wearing a brightness in his eyes like he's just met his idol for the first time. His face is familiar, and it takes me no more than three seconds to put together that he works for the president.
How fucking appropriate that he's here.
“Now, why don't you go and have a shower, Ren? As mesmerizing as it is seeing you covered in that bitch’s blood, we have a plane to catch.”With any luck, it will fall from the sky.
On that note, I turn away, leave the room, and head straight into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I rest my hands on either side of the basin, looking at myself in the mirror. I turn on the faucet and frantically wash the blood from my face, neck, and hands.
I am filth.
I am the product of death and pain.
I am wreck and ruin, and if I get out of this alive, my fractured soul will forever be a prisoner to this night. They finally took from me what I’ve worked so hard to hold onto this past year.
My humanity.
Chapter11
