Earlier, he had taken out a couple of the man’s teeth and cut off one ear, but now it was time to finish the job.
He had pliers, bolt cutters, and saws, everything he thought he would need. He was so excited, like a little kid on Christmas morning anxious to see what Santa Claus had left for them. He couldn’t even decide what to start with.
Maybe a finger. That could be fun.
“What are you doing?” a voice asked when he picked up the bolt cutters.
It was Summer. He hadn’t realized she was even conscious. She had obviously decided to heed his warning about keeping her mouth shut because she hadn’t made a peep since he had locked her inside that box.
“Don’t hurt him. Henry is a sweet man, he doesn’t deserve this,” Summer said. “Come on, Chance, this isn’t you. Please let us go. You need help. We can get you help, but you have to let us go.”
He tuned her out. She was killing his mood. Her pleas were fuel for Good Chance, they strengthened him.
As he secured the bolt cutters around the man’s finger and pressed them closed, Henry jolted upright. Well, not really upright since his hand was still nailed to the floor, but at least he was awake and aware.
He took off another finger.
Henry screamed. It was music to his ears. The blood cascading down onto the floor only added to his excitement.
He set down the cutters and picked up the pliers. Maybe he should take out a few more teeth. No, an eye. That could be fun. He set the pliers back down and picked up the claw hammer instead. He thought the claw part should work to gouge out an eye. He had never tried it before, but no time like the present.
When he positioned the hammer above the man’s eye he began to flop and flounder. Sort of like a fish when you took it out of water.
He swatted the man’s hand out of the way and dug the claw part of the hammer into his eye socket.
The popping sound it made, and the squishy feel were intriguing.
The screams were better.
Henry’s screams, Summer’s screams, they all blurred into one.
Something inside him snapped. Good Chance got weaker, his bloodlust got stronger. Pliers, cutters, hammer, saw, they all circled through his hands. He cut, he yanked, he sawed, he gouged until all that lay at his feet was a bloody, mangled mess.
He took in his handiwork. Pleased with the result. His Humpty Dumpty lay in pieces before him, and he was confident that no one would ever be able to put it back together again.
Summer had fallen silent, but he wasn't interested in her, instead he turned his attention to the bed.
Hope lay there. Her eyes were squeezed closed, and her chest rose and fell in silent sobs.
She was a beautiful woman.
Whether he was Good Chance or Evil Chance, he found her attractive, and he was already aroused and hard as a rock. All the blood had him turned on and he walked toward the bed. This could be the perfect ending to a perfect day.
He stood over her. Sensing him, Hope opened her eyes, she whimpered once and then scrunched them closed again.
He threw off his bloody clothes and dropped them in a pile beside the bed then moved his hand to the waistband of her jeans.
“Chance,” she pleaded.
“Right here,” he sneered, running his fingers along the side of her face. Then he pulled her pants off and climbed on top of her.
* * * * *
5:04 A.M.
Hope was crying.
She was in shock.