Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“My turn, Kyle,” I say and launch myself at him.
My right fist connects solidly to the side of his head and I watch as he stumbles to the side.
He’s not used to someone with strength fighting back.
Grabbing him by the back of his head, my fingers lace through his slimy, sweaty hair.
Pulling his face to me, spittle rains down on him from my mouth as I scream, “You touched her!”
Another fist to his nose and blood erupts, splattering on me.
Another scream, “A fucking angel and you dared lay a finger on her!”
Pulling him over towards Eden, who’s dragged herself to the wall, covering her naked body with a towel, I show him. “Look at the way she pulls back from you! Look, you impotent little fuck!”
Ripping him away from her, I push him to give us a couple feet of distance.
Kyle sways for a moment, still dazed from the punches to his face. I wait for his eyes to clear so he can see me pulling a small switchblade from my pocket.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I bleed to keep myself clearheaded. I want to be fully lucid when I kill this motherfucker. But I know my bloodlust will only allow so much before I must give into it.
“I’m going to make you suffer, Kyle,” I say, spitting blood from my mouth.
“I didn’t… she’s my wife…” he whines to me.
“Wrong, she was never truly yours. You were never worthy of her and Abel.” I look to my wife and stare deep into her eyes for a moment.
“Where’s our son?” I ask.
My stomach drops now that I’ve realized I haven’t seen or heard a peep from him.
“He’s at Sonya’s,” Eden whispers through a busted lip.
“That’s my son!” Kyle screams at me and makes a mad rush to grab the knife from my hand.
Stepping to the side, I slice a long gash across his fleshy love handle. It’s a deep, nasty cut. One that would need stitches if he was going to live past the next five minutes.
Cackling loudly and feeling like a matador, I say, “Ole!”
Screeching, Kyle stops and clutches his side.
I smirk at him. “Come at me again, piggy. I’ll slice another strip from you.”
He scrambles back, further away from me.
I shake my head.
“No, no, no. That won’t do at all,” I sing to him.
Rushing him again, I flick my wrist out at his stomach and leave a long bloody gash across it.
Again, another squeal of pain and terror.
I’ve played with him too long, though. I can’t continue this game when Eden sits there on the floor, hurting and scared.
When Kyle turns to flee towards the front door, I flick my wrist, sending the knife end over end. It sticks directly in the middle of his spine.
He drops to the ground like a floppy fish.
Gasping for air, Kyle tries to grab the offending blade from his back but can’t quite reach it.
Walking over to where his feet are, I grin. Grabbing one, I drag him away from the partially open front door.
No one’s peeked in just yet, but I figure it’s best to keep prying eyes out. I push the door shut then slide the deadbolt home. It’ll hold for now.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I push the contact button for Simon.
“What is it?” Simon snaps at me.
He must be sorely angry over me hanging up on him earlier.
“Run interference for the community, cops, and anyone else. Have someone here watching over Eden’s home,” I say, my voice cold as I stare from Kyle to Eden.
Then, thinking further, I recite Sonya’s address to him as well. There’s no guarantee that Kyle didn’t do something to my son.
“Do you know how much that…” Simon starts to hiss at me. “What is it you’re doing, Jude?”
“I don’t give a fuck. I’ll pay for it out of my own bank account. You have access to it, just deal with it,” I say and hang up.
Looking at Eden, I stare into her frightened eyes. She’s scared.
Scared of me.
Scared of Kyle.
Scared of the world.
Abel isn’t here.
Turning back to Kyle, I kneel and rip the blade from his back. Whether he’s paralyzed or not, I don’t give a fuck.
Rolling him over, I smear the blood on the dagger across my chest to make sure I have it nice and clean for what I’m going to do next.
Straddling his legs, I ball my left hand up in a fist and hit him as hard as I possibly can in this position.
Head rocking to the side, Kyle babbles bubbles of blood at me.
Dammit, I may have hit something important in there.
Time, it seems, is of the essence.
Carefully, I cut open his shirt until I have his flabby torso exposed. He tries to push my hands away, but a quick slice of each wrist makes those useless.