“And this society, you traffick children? Sell them, rape, torture and kill them?”
A single nod, guilt shining in his eyes. Not guilt over what he’s done to innocent souls, but only because he got caught and is now suffering the consequences.
“Is that all you do?”
“No, but that’s the only thing we do that you have a chance of putting a stop to—as small as it is. The rest is deep operations within the government, a lot of it specifically to keep control over the people and make them think they have any control over what happens in their lives.”
He glances at me, and an unreadable expression morphs his face. Now… now he truly looks like a demon. He looks flat-out sinister.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t bother saving them. I would focus on saving yourselves first.”
I step towards him, readying my knife to plunge into whatever body part I reach first, but Zade stops me. His hand swings out, and he casts me a warning look over his shoulder.
But I can see it in his eyes, too. The rage glittering in his yin-yang pools. The desire to torture this man until he’s pleading for death.
“All of you? You all have done this ritual?” Zade asks after a beat, directing his question towards the other two men. He ignores Mark’s ominous warning, but all I want to do is ask what the hell he even means by that.
The other men are all sweating, their white hair molded to their heads, and with potbellies and sagging chins. They all look the same, with slight differences. Old men that have so much money, they’ve grown bored with life. There’s nothing that excites them anymore.
Nothing, except little helpless girls and boys, and their cries of pain.
“If you lie, your death will be slow. My demon slayer and I have plenty of ideas on how to make it the most painful last hours of your miserable life.” I shiver from his words. From the deep timber in which he speaks and how he claimed me as his.
I smile big. I have my first friend.
I hope he gets along with my henchmen. I’m sure once they get over their initial suspicions, they'll accept him into our little group. As a brother, and as a friend. Just like I’m already starting to.
I’m snapped out of my musings at another muffled yelp. Jack tried denying the question anyway, and Zade answered that by stabbing the knife deep into his thigh.
“That’s just a taste, Jack. Miller, how ‘bout you? You like to fuck children, too?” Miller, the man with bright blue eyes that spoke to me earlier, nods his head like a child with a marker in his hand standing next to the drawings on the wall.
Pathetic. Disgusting waste of human flesh and organs.
I bounce on my feet, restlessness taking over.
“Can I play now, Zade?” I ask impatiently.
He straightens and nods towards Jack and Miller. “Go ahead and have fun with those two. I have a couple more things to get out of dear old Mark first.”
“If you don’t let me go, I won’t tell you anything else! Nothing!” Mark shouts. The bargain is weak. Mark knew from the beginning he was never walking out of this haunted dollhouse. He’s just not willing to accept his fate yet.
“You’re a weak man, Mark. You’ll tell me anything I want to know once the pain becomes too much. You either die slow, or quick.”
I tune out Mark’s desperate pleas and arguments and turn my attention to the monsters before me. When they sense my stare, and the absolute pleasure already radiating throughout my body, they start fighting their bonds.
My pussy grows slick, and this time, I won’t let rage consume me. This time, I will draw out their deaths, and draw out the pleasure that will ultimately get me ready for my henchmen.
I let out a squeal of excitement and start slashing. Painting myself in the blood of sinners.
Somewhere between torturing the demons together, to finishing them off, to chopping them in pieces—I decided I no longer want to kill Zade.
That’s never happened before, but deep down, I felt relieved. I had decided to kill Zade because I knew he was dangerous. But he didn’t smell like rot—not like the true demons do. The hint of burnt roses told me that while he’s dangerous, he’s not dangerous towards the innocent.
Just like me. I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize that I was going to kill someone who has the same mission as me. I would’ve never forgiven myself.
Zade was nice enough to help me clean up the mess. He insisted on taking care of the bodies, so all I had to do was help him carry the numerous body parts to his car.
I sit on the hood of his Mustang, staring at the lifeless buildings and rides scattered across the open field. It’s fascinating to see how haunting and desolate the fair looks when the occupants leave, and the lights extinguish. The same buildings and rides that are lit up with an array of colors now look as if they’ve been sitting on the muddy earth for centuries, devoid of life.