Page 80 of Morally Corrupt

Never.

I panic, my breathing out of control. What's happening to me? Did I finally break?

I try to put one foot in front of the other to make my way to my other apartment, but my entire body is too stiff. Why I'd walked instead of driven, I don't know.

Out of the fog that shields my mind, I hear a whistle. I frown but keep walking. The whistling seems to intensify. I take a second to look around and realize I passed the 5th Avenue Station, so I must be around 62nd Street. I keep my pace until the whistling comes directly from behind me. Just as I'm waiting for it to pass me, a hand grabs my arm painfully and shoves me towards the alleyway.

Great.

I jerk my arm around to free myself, but it only makes my assailant treat me more roughly. I hit the wall, and pain radiates from my shoulder blade.

Shit. I wince.

Raising my head up, I see an older man with an unkempt appearance leering at me.

"Let me go," I say, quickly taking in all escape routes.

"Now, sweet girl. Out at this hour ain't safe." He slurs his words, but what hits me is his appellation—sweet girl. My mind hones in on that word, and everything seems to fall away.

His hand goes to my shirt, his hurried movements aggressively ripping the bottom material. It's enough to wake me up from my mental fog. My arm shoots out, and my elbow catches him under his chin, causing him to fall backward.

At this moment, I could run if I wanted to. I could leave him here and take off.

But I don't.

My eyes must be glazed with a crazed look because as he sees me approaching him, he takes a step back.

My punch goes next, hitting him in the stomach. Then I knee him in the balls until he's curled up at my feet.

"Please…" he whimpers.

I don't stop.

My fists go at his face for what seems like forever. I hit and hit and hit, all the pain in my chest intensifying and making me go harder and harder.

I feel bone crunching.

The skin on my knuckles is slowly peeling away as I slam into him. His zygoma is crushed, bits of it flying as I keep hammering. I only stop when I feel a softness swallowing my knuckles and realize I've likely reached his brain. With a harsh breath, I let myself fall next to his body. Dead. He's dead.

I killed him.

I'm a monster.

I'm disgusting.

Theo's words keep replaying inside my head, and my tears fall uncontrollably.

It doesn't take long for me to realize I need to do something about this, so I quickly grab my phone and dial Vlad.

"I… killed him," I say between sobs and hiccups.

"B?" he asks, concerned, and I hear movement. "Where are you?"

I give him what I think is my location, and he tells me to wait. The hand holding the cell drops, and I stare at the massacre in front of me.

I'm disgusting.

I keep looking at my handiwork that I don't realize when, sometime later, a car pulls over. Vlad and his bodyguard Maxim step into the alleyway. I turn to look at him and see that he averts his gaze as soon as he spots the bloody corpse, his hand shielding his eyes. I can only imagine what seeing this does to him.