Of course he has. The whole town's heard of it. But that's not what I asked.
"What's the big deal?" He shrugs. "It's just a little superstition, right?"
"Right." I nod slowly, watching his fingers twitch around the wood handle of the knife.
"I just... I'm gonna take her."
Fat fucking chance.
I raise an eyebrow at him, a silent suggestion for him to rethink that. But he doesn't. He fucking moves for her, he touches her, and I explode.
I've got the handle of the hoe against his throat before he ever lifts her into his arms, and the threat of me collapsing his trachea is enough to make him drop the knife, lifting his hands in surrender.
"Don't..." he warns. "It's not worth it. Capital punishment is an option in Kansas."
"Good for you." I tell him coldly. "But Kansas hasn't executed anyone since 1965. Ten years before the people of this town took matters into their own hands and the Scarecrow was born."
His heavy breaths press against the handle of the hoe, so I dig it into the column of his throat harder.
"You don't wanna kill me." He warns. "The sheriff will be looking for me soon."
"Oh?" I laugh, slamming the bar into his throat and reveling in the sound of his choking.
He crumples to the ground when I release the hoe, on his hands and knees gasping as he tries to reclaim his breath and dignity. He'll not get either.
When I slam the back of it down on his skull, he collapses easily, his hands giving out beneath him and sending his head crashing into the ground.
I take advantage of his moment of stunned surprise, burying the blade in the back of his skull.
He gasps, shock arresting his movements, keeping him from screaming. When I kick him over, his eyes are glassy and wide, staring at me with his mouth making fish lips, opening and closing around words that don't come. I don't doubt it hurts, but that's kinda the point. Not getting to hear him scream sort of puts a damper on things.
My eyes flicker to the other side of the hoe, the metal spikes for tilling the earth.
I get the scream I was after when I bludgeon him in the face with it. The claws dig into his flesh and tear; it splits easily and blood squirts out in all directions from the holes I just put in his head.
I have half a mind to leave him here now, to try and crawl his way out of the cornfield before he bleeds to death.
But that's not a fate fair enough for what he did. He's a monster, and I think the outside should match his insides. I could turn him inside out if I had a little more time, but the little wraith on the ground needs to be warmed up, and the sun that's snapping into place on the horizon isn't gonna cut it. I've gotta be swift.
The sound from him as I throw my weight on the handle and pull is inhuman. Guess that's fair, since he's not human.
He's a fucking demon, one of hundreds that call this town their home. They've hidden here for years, operating on the fringe, hiding from the rest of the world behind their cornstalks and fucking festivals. But there's no mistake.
This town is infested, and it's time for an exorcism.
Toby Connors' flesh splits easily beneath the weight of the hoe, the claws digging into the muscle of his face and giving me the slightest bit of resistance as I open him up, exposing the rot and evil lurking beneath.
His screams taper to a pathetic cry as I drag his body by the boots, pulling him to the stake.
I could leave him out here to die slowly, but he deserves worse.
After all, hetouchedher.
I leave him just long enough to go back for the hoe, twisting it in my hands as I approach the place I dropped him. Pathetic kid is on his hands and knees, trying to get away, but I don’t think he can see with all the blood dripping in his eyes.
I knock him off balance easily when I kick him square in the chest.
“Please just let me go!”
