How? How could someone do that?
Only a monster…
The majority of my brain has shut down, overloaded by the information. I’m not even aware of walking up to the cart and facing Sasha until I have the gun in my hand.
I look down the barrel and aim it at his ugly head.
My hand is shaking as I stare at him.
I’ve never wanted to kill someone so much in my life. I would be doing the world a favor by putting an end to his evil existence.
How many times did I wish I had a gun when they held me captive?
My finger twitches over the trigger as Sasha stares back at me, and there’s a look of such pleased triumph in his eyes that I wish I could kill him twice over.
With the gun in my hand, staring at his forehead, I can’t help but remember my last vision of Lindsey.
Her hair spread around her face.
The blood staining it red and leaking into the carpet.
Her empty eyes.
Her life snuffed out like she was nothing.
To them, she was just an inconvenience.
Something to get rid of.
And knowing, even in death, they abused her fills me with such a sad rage my entire body is shaking from it.
Sasha spits out another glob of blood mixed with spit and leans forward in his chair.
His eyes are focused and intense as he says, “She was the best fuck I ever had.”
I blink at him, seeing the lie instantly for what it is.
Does the evil fucker actually want me to kill him?
My eyes roam over his body, and it’s kind of funny, I was so focused on what was happening to his head I didn’t even realize he was naked.
He’s been stripped of all his clothes. His ankles are strapped to the legs of the chair and his wrists have been strapped to the arms.
Both his toes and fingers are bleeding.
Someone has pulled every single one of his nails off.
His upper thighs are an angry red and it looks like someone singed all the hair off with something hot.
Bruises are beginning to bloom all over his body. Most notably across his chest and lower stomach.
His private parts may be bleeding as well, but I don’t want to look too closely at them.
If I had to guess, I’d say he’s been in here awhile.
Good.
Noting my hesitation, Sasha’s eyes narrow and he hisses angrily, “Do it.”
And I want to, more than anything.
I want to kill him so bad I’m fucking crying, but I just can’t seem to do it.
I try and try to pull the trigger, and Sasha goads me on but it’s not right. He deserves so much more than a quick death.
He deserves to suffer like my friends and I have. Like Charlie has.
“Beth…” Johnathan’s voice comes to me. “Do you want me to do it?”
I shake my head and my sobs intensify. My body is shaking so hard now, the gun in my hand is swaying wildly.
If I’m not careful, I might shoot someone accidentally.
“Give me the gun,” Johnathan says gently, and I feel my arm being pushed down before the gun is slid out of my hand.
“Do it, you ugly fucking bitch!” Sasha screams, fighting the bonds of his chair. He’s hissing and spitting, and fighting with all his might.
Johnathan pulls me into his arms and turns me away from him.
“It’s okay, baby,” Johnathan murmurs, stroking my hair back. “We’ll take care of him.”
“No,” I sob out in misery and cling to him. This is the gift Johnathan gave me, and now that I understand what it is, I can fully appreciate it, “I want to be the one to do it.”
I owe it to my friends. I owe it to myself to see that this man gets the justice he deserves.
“Baby…” Johnathan says, his coarse voice too gentle for the thoughts I’m thinking.
Grasping his shirt in my fists, I look up at him and say, “I want him to suffer, Johnathan.”
Johnathan looks down at me and slowly nods his head, but his eyes are full of hesitation. “What do you want to do?”
I take a deep breath and I know the choice I’ve made is right. After everything I’ve learned tonight, it feels right.
“Do you have any pigs?”
It’s the dead of night. We drove for three hours to reach a secluded farm after a call was put in to some guy named Harrold.
Above me, there are so many stars in the sky. Stars I can’t normally see and they’re beautiful.
“Fuck, he’s heavier than he looks,” Andrew grumbles as Johnathan helps him lift Sasha’s body.
“Doesn’t help that the fucker won’t stop fighting,” Johnathan grunts as he struggles with Sasha’s bound but still kicking legs. “Stop moving, fucker.”
“On three,” Andrew says.
Johnathan nods.
“One… two… three…”
They swing Sasha’s body in unison and send him flying over the fence, straight into the pigpen.