Page 57 of Don't Speak

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Standing in front of the man who terrorized my childhood, all I can do is just stare for a moment.

I feel so much rage, but so much fear, all at the same time.

This man stole my innocence. He violated me in ways I don’t know that I’ll ever fully heal from.

I’m damaged inside because of him. He destroyed my soul, forever affecting the way I build relationships.

They both did. He and my mother. My mother .

I look over at her body lying lifeless on the floor, and tears start to form again.

She died protecting me. The one thing I needed her to do as a kid, she died doing it.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I don’t know how I feel about forgiving her or even if I can, but I do know I am grateful for her giving me the chance to live.

Sean starts to shift in his seat, slowly returning to consciousness. His head lolls before he straightens it, staring directly at me. His face is swollen and covered in bruises, but he’s able to speak.

“You stupid bitch,” he spits. “I almost had you,” he seethes.

“Almost,” I grind out. “But you didn’t, and you’re never going to get the chance to touch anyone again.” My voice rises more than I’d have preferred. In these final moments, I don’t want him to see how much he affects me. Not anymore.

“You know, you were always my favorite,” he smirks.

Goosebumps prick my skin, and bile begins to rise, but I choke it down.

His comment ignites a fire in me, and I glare at him.

It’s definitely one of those “if looks could kill” moments.

I walk over to the table of objects that Dean set out for me.

His tools . I’m going to have to get used to that, but that’s a problem for another day.

I sort through all of the different knives and torture devices, settling on the blowtorch and barbed wire for now.

I place the barbed wire on the concrete floor and begin heating it with the blowtorch.

Only once the metal begins to glow red do I let up.

While Sean was out cold, Dean removed his clothes for me, so he sits naked before me, his legs spread apart and tied to each side of the chair.

His arms still remain handcuffed behind him.

Before taking the now-hot barbed wire in my hands, I grab the gloves Dean provided and put them on to protect my hands.

I wince from the pain in my hand, but with the adrenaline coursing through my body, it’s manageable.

Once they’re situated, I grab the wire and walk behind Sean, bringing the wire up and over his body and pulling it tight around his abdomen.

He lets out a grunt of pain, his skin searing with contact.

I wrap the wire around his body and chair a few times, ensuring it's tightly snug around him.

I want him to feel the pain every time he takes a breath, so he can experience just a minuscule amount of what the pain has been like for me due to what he did.

Once I’m done, I walk back over to the table, confidence beginning to overtake every other emotion I had.

It’s not like I haven’t thought about this a time or two.

Dean has every kind of knife you can imagine, seeming as though that is his preferred method of torture.

He has cleavers, filet knives, serrated knives, carving knives, and more.

I gravitate toward the filet knife, immediately picking it up.

I hold it up to the light, admiring the way it shines.

I saunter back in front of him, bending forward to get in his face, resting my hands on both sides of the chair.

“Fuck you for what you did to me. Fuck you for all those nights you slid into my bed. Fuck you for putting your hands on me and mine on you. Fuck you for being a sick fuck who likes little girls. And fuck you for what you did to Charlie.” I look over at Dean, who is leaning up against the wall with his leg propped up against it and his arms crossed.

He looks at me with silent appreciation.

Taking the filet knife, I slice off the tribal tattoo from his arm. When I was little, I used to pick something to stare at while I dissociated from reality. Most of the time, his tattoo was the nearest thing to my face.

He lets out another guttural scream before I move on to the next item.

Taking the knife again, I slice the series of turtles right off his other arm, throwing both pieces of skin to the ground.

His screams are like music to my ears, and I’m revelling in the torture I’m inflicting upon him.

I glance up at Dean again, and I notice he’s smirking. Oh. He likes this too .

“You fucking cunt!” Sean screams, roaring in pain. That must have pissed Dean off because he moves from his spot against the wall and quickly makes his way to me, facing Sean. He raises his arm back and punches him in the nose again.

“You no longer get to fucking talk to her like that.” Sean’s head lolls to the side. I can tell the pain is becoming too much, his body fighting to succumb to the darkness waiting to take over. He knows if he passes out, he’ll never wake up.

Dean decides to chime in for a moment. “You know I had a lot of fun with your son today.”

I snap my head to him, hearing this information for the first time.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. He screamed like a little bitch, just like you,” Dean taunts, getting in Sean’s face.

Sean growls, trying to fight against the restraints, uncaring about the barbed wire still cutting into his flesh.

“Don’t worry. I threw him out with his piece of shit friend. They can both rot together.”

Sean starts yelling loudly this time. “Fuck you, Nikki. You think you can escape me? You’ll always feel my touch on you.

Everywhere you go, you’ll always have the memories of me sliding into your room in the middle of the night.

There will be no place you can run that I won’t find you in your mind.

You can tr—” I cut him off, taking the blade and slicing his dick clear from his body.

He doesn’t even have time to register the pain as I grab his lower jaw and pry it open, shoving his wrinkly dick tip first down his throat.

“Shhhh. Don’t.” Shove . “Fucking ” . Shove . “Speak.” Shove .

With one final push, I step back and observe my work.

My adrenaline is pumping, making my heart beat rapidly inside my chest. He chokes, his body trying to eject it from his throat, but I shoved it in there good.

His eyes widen, and tears stream down his face.

He’s coming to terms with his fate for these last few seconds.

Finally, he stills, his body slumping over to the side. He’s dead .

I drop the knife I was holding, and look up at Dean, finally letting my emotions come to a head and spill out. My knees buckle, but he catches me and pulls me into him, holding me tight.

“It’s over, baby. You’re free. We’re free.”

I pull back, looking into his eyes. I push up onto my toes and meet his lips with mine, dancing my tongue across his lips, coaxing him to open for me.

He does, and matches my kiss with the same fervor.

He runs his hands through my hair, grabbing a handful at the base of my neck and pulling back, breaking the kiss.

“Let’s get this mess cleaned up so we can go home. Then, I’ll be whatever you need me to be, little lioness.”

I nod, and we get to work, making what happened here disappear as though no one was ever here.

Dean disposes of Sean’s body in the dumpster out back, the body of the man he had already left here now fully decomposed.

We place my mother’s body on the bed and cover it with a tarp for now, with the promise to return tomorrow to give her a proper burial.

Walking to Dean’s truck, I take a glance back at the asylum, silently thanking it for being the place that provided me the revenge I so desperately needed.

Dean walks up to my door, opening it and waiting for me to slide in before he closes it and walks around to the driver’s side.

There’s only one place I want to be right now.

Home .