Page 93 of Touch of Hate

He walks slowly into the room, snarling at the man on the floor. “Sick, twisted fuck. I would swear he got off on it, all of it.”

“He probably did,” I agree. “And he deserves to die.”

I don't think I have it in me, is the thing. Beating the shit out of him, that I could do. Terrorizing him until he pissed his pants, sure. I can't seem to take the final step.

Which is why I extend my arm, holding the gun out for my brother to use, instead. “You do it. You deserve a little bit of fun, too.”

“I have a better idea.”

My eyes widen at the sight of the knife he pulls from his back pocket. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think? The kitchen.” The small blade gleams when he holds it up. A paring knife. “Why give him the mercy of a quick death?”

I was thinking the same thing before I came in here. As always, he's willing to take it that far, when all I do is think about it. I couldn't even pull the fucking trigger.

“Don't worry,” he says with a snide grin. “You don't have to get your hands dirty.”

“I already have,” I remind him. The relief I felt when I first saw him is gone thanks to his attitude. He never knows when to stop. Especially not when there's a chance to make me feel inferior.

“You tied him up and pistol whipped him. Don't expect a medal.” He places the blade of the knife between his teeth before pulling Christian’s sweatpants and shorts down to his ankles. My insides twist up when I realize what he's about to do.

But that's not all I'm feeling. Somehow, this seems right. What he deserves. He shouldn't die quickly. Not after everything he's done. He should bleed out in agony.

“Hey. Hey, Christian. Wake up. You don't want to miss this part.” When Christian doesn't respond, River gives him a vicious backhand that makes his head snap to the side.

That wakes him up. River crouches over him, waving the knife in front of his swollen eyes. “Time to make your outside look like your insides.”

“Wh-What?” he whispers.

“You never had the balls to be a real man, so you had to beat up on kids to make yourself feel good. You obviously don't need these.” He taps the flat of the blade against Christian’s balls.

“No,” he squeaks, twisting in terror, struggling against the duct tape. “No, don't do that. I gave you everything you wanted! I told you everything! I was trying to help you!”

“You gave us information,” River explains, speaking slowly like he would to a kid. “But that's not all we want. Not after all the shit you pulled. And not only with us. How many fucking kids did you torture?”

“I was only doing what was right! Please, don't do this!” His high-pitched pleas only make River laugh while I watch, fascinated.

River turns to me, grinning. “I might need you to hold him down. Wouldn't want to cut myself because he can't stay still.”

Christian fixes his gaze on me, his head swinging back and forth while he flops around like a dying fish. “Don't do this. Please, don't do this!” he pleads, sobbing, sweat soaking through his shirt, tears cutting through the blood drying on his face.

I have nothing more to say to him. River’s right. This is what he deserves, and the symbolism is the cherry on top. When I crouch beside my brother, leaning all my weight against Christian’s legs to pin them to the floor, his sobbing turns into breathless panting. He's too far gone to speak, to plead, anything. Because now he feels the tip of the blade biting into his sack.

“It'll be over soon,” River promises with a soft laugh before he makes the first slice.

And Christian screams. A single, high-pitched scream like a mindless animal gripped in complete terror and unspeakable pain. A scream that cuts off when his voice breaks—but his mouth is still open, his entire body tensed. Blood coats my hands, painting them red the way it paints his thighs and the floor under him. So much blood.

With a satisfied grunt, River tosses the bloody lump on top of Christian's chest. “Now, the score is settled,” he decides as he stands and stares down at the weakening body.

All I can do is watch the life drain from him. He’s still conscious, but it’s fading fast, his silent screams turning to soundless whimpers as he bleeds out on the floor. I hope every single evil act he’s ever committed is playing back in front of him now. One last look at his life before he burns in hell.

River brings me back to my senses after Christian has breathed his last. “We need to get out of here before one of his scum friends comes to check on him.”

I nod in agreement. “Scarlet is outside.”

“Of course, she is.” River rolls his eyes. “You better go and babysit then.”

“Why don’t you come out and meet her? Maybe then you’ll understand.”