Marcus lets out a harsh laugh. “Lets not pretend Bruce cared about anyone other than himself. He knew the drugs had killed their mum, yet he still took them, too. He knew the risks, but his pathetic need to get high overruled any good sense he might have had. He was an addict who overdosed. The blame ends with him.”
“Fuck you. It was—” Eddie starts what I’m sure will be a long, pointless rant, so I cut him off with a hard slap across his face.
He lets out a yelp, startled enough by the blow that he’s rendered speechless.
“The reasons behind your actions are irrelevant. You threatened the life of an innocent young woman who is not involved in this life. She is aligned with the Morellis, and is under our protection. You threatened her, stalked her, and made her life hell. Now, you’ll be punished for that.”
“But I?—”
Before he can even get into his sentence, a gunshot to his left calf cuts him off. I don’t even think he saw me pull out my gun, as his face was twisted in anger, but he heard the shot just moments before the bullet ripped through his flesh.
Blood sprays from the wound as his loud cries of pain fill theroom. I hear my son chuckling from where he’s leaning against the wall, and when I look over, he’s smiling at me as he shakes his head. “Patience has never been your strong suit.”
I mean, he’s not wrong!
Because I’m a stickler for symmetry, I shoot him again in the right calf, so he has matching wounds on both legs. His loud screams are so high-pitched they pierce my brain, making me wince.
I turn to Miles, who is staring at me like he might be impressed. “I’m assuming you’d like a turn with him?”
Miles nods rapidly, the smile on his face turning wicked as he stalks towards Eddie. He can barely see Miles with the amount of tears filling his eyes, but he definitely notices him pulling out a large knife.
“I’m going to slice you into little tiny pieces. One for every picture you took of my sister while you were stalking her,” Miles says, as he slices through Eddie’s shirt, exposing his excessively hairy chest.
“You didn’t actually count how many pictures there were, did you?” Marcus asks, his head cocked to the side as he assesses his best friend.
He beat me to it, as I was wondering the same thing. I wouldn’t put it past Miles to have counted them, as he’s incredibly thorough. He’s also extremely protective of his sister, and he will have inspected each photograph whilst he was trying to identify her stalker.
“Shall we call it a ballpark figure, rather than the exact number,” Miles replies with a shrug, before turning back to Eddie. “Do you know how many pictures you took?”
Eddie shakes his head, unable to speak as he’s still sobbing thanks to the holes in his legs.
“Well, make sure you count the cuts, then you’ll know,” Miles says, anger and disdain dripping from every word.
He then proceeds to make multiple small slices all over Eddie’s body. Some are tiny but deep, others are longer and shallow, but they all bleed once he’s removed the knife from his flesh.
I don’t know if Miles is keeping count, but Eddie certainly isn’t. His high-pitched screams turned into sobs, before he began begging for mercy—that he will never receive.
Miles keeps cutting until his whole body is littered with cuts, and there’s a pool of blood gathering beneath the chair. Eddie looks deathly pale, and he went quiet a little while ago, no longer having the energy to even hold his own head up.
His voice grew hoarse before going completely, leaving only silent sobs in its place. And I have to admit, torture is a lot less satisfying when you can’t hear them begging for the reprieve that will never come. Though it’s infinitely easier on the ears, as he gave me a headache a while ago.
As Eddie’s head rolls, and it’s clear he’s on the brink of losing consciousness, I reach out and lay my hand on Miles’ shoulder. My touch startles him, and he turns to face me, the bloody knife still in his hand.
He was clearly in his own little world, lost to the blood lust and adrenaline thatoften accompanies torture, so I hold my hands up to make it clear I’m not a threat. Miles blinks a few times, his face softening as his haze clears.
“I think he’s about done. I’m going to end him,” I tell Miles, who nods his approval.
I glance over at my son, who has been watching with quiet interest this whole time, not once bothering to get involved. Then again, this isn’t his fight. He’s only here to support his best friend, so I’m not surprised when he gives me a nod of consent to end this.
I take the knife out of Miles’ hand, and without any unnecessary dramatics, I grab hold of Eddie’s hair and pull his head back before slitting his throat. Blood spurts out of the wound and I drop my hold on him, watching as his head rolls forwards.
Eddie gurgles and spits blood as he tries to pull in frantic breaths, but that only lasts for a couple of seconds. We watch as the life bleeds from him. When he’s taken his last breath, the only noise in the room is our breathing, and the dripping of blood as it pools beneath his dead body.
I hand the knife back to Miles, a big smile on my face as I say, “Well, that was fun.”
Both Miles and Marcus chuckle, shaking their heads at me. It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself get this bloody, and honestly, it’s not something I’ve missed.
I engaged in torture and killing whenever it was needed to cement my role as leader, but I never had a passion for it like some do. But this time was different. This felt like me punishing someone for daring to touch what is mine. Nobody threatens the people I care about, and Eddie learnt that lesson the hard way.
