Page 146 of Hurt

Asher.

She would recognize that greasy voice anywhere. But was he alone? Gerard Vega had been mysteriously absent in the last few months but she doubted the rules on allowing women in the compound would be relaxed just because he was absent.

Willow thought back to the moments before she was pushed into the Void. Asher’s sneering face and the way he laughed when he heard Kurt’s scream of pain.

Maybe revenge couldn’t wait.

She opened the door as quietly as she could and pushed it open a few inches.

Clothes scattered across the bedroom floor. The black dresser in the corner was overstuffed and fast-food wrappers littered the top. There was a single narrow window that didn’t seem to let in any light at all. An ugly lamp sitting on the bedside table was the only source of illumination in the room.

Asher was splayed out on his bed naked except for a pair of boxer shorts. His full attention was on the cellphone in his hand. A woman was on the screen, chatting with her top off. Her giggles were grating. Asher didn’t seem to mind, but his attention was fully on the plump pair of breasts taking up two thirds of the screen.

Willow kicked in the door hard enough that the handle slammed into the cement wall and snapped off.

Asher scrambled up but slid off the black silk sheets, falling in a heap with his erection trapped between him and the floor.

“Sorry to disappoint you, honey,” Willow drawled, twirling the leg bone between her fingers. “But the camera adds four inches.”

A muffled tinny scream came from the pile of blankets, but Willow ignored it. Before Asher could get his bearing, Willow kicked him in the face. His head snapped back, and he fell limp.

Forcing the sharp point of the tibia against the hollow of Asher’s neck, she pressed down until Asher regained his senses.

“H…how?” he spluttered, eyes wide with fear.

Willow must have looked every inch a monster. Gray eyes staring out from a face caked with dirt and blood, clothes ripped to shreds and the hand holding the bone stained crimson. She looked every inch a dead woman who had crawled from her grave.

“Where is my brother?”

Asher made a whining sound. “He’s…he’s in the next building. Please…I didn’t mean…have mercy….”

Willow cocked her head and stared down at the whimpering man. She pushed the bone into his neck and watched a bubble of blood well up.

“Did you give my brother mercy? How about the people at the bottom of that pit? Did they get mercy?” Her voice was low, a hiss.

“I never touched your brother!” Asher cried.

“Well, in that case,” Willow leaned low and forced Asher to look into her manic eyes, “I won’t peel the skin from your hands and make you eat it. Consider that my mercy.”

Grabbing Asher by his hair she twisted his head back until his mouth opened.

If revenge is sweet, then justice is ugly.

Justice exists on a thin line made of morality. On the one side is the ethical passing of judgement. A sad job that no one wants, but everyone needs. On the other lies revenge. Cold and cruel, ruthless in its execution. Is justice so much more palatable because it is for the public while vengeance is inherently selfish?

Willow didn’t know.

What she did know was that she didn’t give a damn.

She didn’t give a damn when Asher begged for clemency. She didn’t give a damn when the small voice in her head told her to stop. And she didn’t give a damn whether it was right or wrong.

Asher’s glistening eyes stared up at the ceiling. Warm blood pooled around his head as his final breaths struggled to get past the tibia shoved down his throat. The rounded joint clacked against his upper teeth as his final agonizing breaths slowed to a faint gurgling then stopped all together.

His throat was distended and shredded where the sharp end of the tibia had sliced through in parts.

Willow wiped her hands on the silk sheets and found Asher’s cellphone. The screen was black.

She opened the phone and grabbed Asher’s right hand, pressing his thumb against the button to unlock the screen. Clicking the flash on, she snapped several pictures.