In fact, I was just starting.
I was going to make him bleed. He would pay in the most horrific way.
We had a long way to go until I would be satisfied.
What Alberto didn’t realize was that I was just as deranged as him.
Pushing his head back, I felt it snap against the back of the chair. I released my hold on Alberto, his head falling forward. He groaned in pain, his blood dripping all over him.
Twisting my fingers in his hair, I pulled his head back sharply until he was looking at me. His eyes were so swollen he could barely keep them open. There was a long cut on his forehead. It was deep, the skin peeled back until I could see his bones.
I took my knife and pressed the handle against the deep cut. Alberto thrashed in my arms as I twisted the handle into the wound. He screamed, but his voice was almost gone from the hours of screaming.
He could only whimper in pain, his voice sounding like a baby.
When I saw he was bleeding too much, I pulled back. Nikolay came forward and pushed the towel against the cut, stopping the bleeding.
I couldn’t have him bleed to death.
Not yet.
I still needed him alive.
“How does that feel?” I sneered at him, pouring all my hatred in my words. “Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s refreshing to be on the other end, isn’t it?”
He coughed, heaving forward. I pushed him back, holding my knife against his chest. I didn’t press the blade into this skin.
No, I played with him.
Just like he played with my Angel.
Dragging the knife over his chest, I let him feel the blade. It whispered over his skin but never broke it.
Alberto shuddered in pain, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He was about to lose consciousness. My palm met his face in a hard slap. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’ll cut your dick off if you do.”
His eyes snapped open, and he regarded me with pure distaste. I laughed at his audacity. He could barely open his eyes, and yet here he was, thinking he stood a chance.
Pressing the blade harder into his chest, I felt him suck in a harsh breath. I still didn’t cut his skin. There were already several cuts over his chest and body. But right now, I had other plans.
The blade traveled up his shoulder, leaving a cold trail. Then down his right arm. Alberto stilled as my knife started to press harder and harder against his skin.
When I reached the back of his hand, I paused. The whole time, my eyes were on his, and I reveled when I saw fear in them.
“Do…n’t…don’t…” he begged.
“Was that how Ayla begged you? She begged you to stop, didn’t she?” I roared, holding his throat in my other hand.
I pressed against his windpipe, feeling his trachea under my fingers. My fingers pressed against his set of bones. I could have easily crushed him.
When his face started to turn red, then purple from suffocation, I released his fragile neck.
“You didn’t stop. Then why should I?” I hissed in his face, holding the knife to his hand. Nikolay came to stand behind him and held Alberto’s arm still.
I held the tip of my spiral knife to the back of his hand. My eyes watched him stare at the knife. I watched him shuddering in fear. I watched him bleed, and I laughed.
I laughed at his agony as I pulled my knife back and drove it down. Hard.
He screamed and screamed, his wails filling the room. It was a song to my ears.
Alberto tried to move his arm away, but I twisted the knife, holding his hand still. I stared down at my handy job, my eyes following the length of my knife. Half of the blade was lodged in Alberto’s hand.
Blood poured around us, but I didn’t care. That was the least of my concerns.
“Do you know why I love this knife?” I asked. “Because it’s the most painful. It hurts like a son of a bitch. Your hand probably feels like it’s going to fall off, right?”
Alberto cried out when I twisted the knife again. I could hear the sound of his flesh mashing together, his bones crunching—breaking. The sound of skin and flesh against blood.
“Don’t worry, though. It’s not going to fall off,” I tried to soothed him. “Not yet anyways.”
“Pl…ea…se…”
Tsking at his weak attempt, I pulled back and stared at him. “Aww, poor baby. Are you begging? It’s music to my ears, Alberto. Go ahead. Beg me. Maybe if I like the way you beg, I’ll spare you.”
Watching him writhe under my assault made everything worth it.
“Pl…ea…se…no…more…pl…ease…”
His begging twisted my heart because all I could hear was Ayla begging Alberto to stop. She begged and begged, yet he never stopped. He kept hurting her…over and over again.