Page 20 of Love Me in the Dark

I have long brown hair that falls in deep waves. My breasts are generously large, and my hips are wide. It gives me a wonderful figure that I can appreciate even with the scars. Honestly, I think the scar that pisses me off the most is the bite mark on my right breast. I’m glad he didn’t bite my nipple, or I probably wouldn’t have one, but you can clearly make out each tooth. As dark as it may be, my favorite scar is the one on my throat when they tried to kill me. It is a reminder that I am a survivor. I survived them, so I can survive anything. I will not hide them, because they are a part of me now. They are bits of my story that I have every right to tell.

I step into the scalding hot shower, and it’s a shock to my body. Some of the scars are still sensitive, but this heat helpscenter me. My psychiatrist calls it self-harm, but I call it a way to make me not lose my mind. Friday was my last session with her, but I knew it was coming. She took a new position, but I was ready to stop going anyhow. I do have her number if I want or need references, but I think I’m okay. For now, at least. I might not be when I start killing rapist pieces of shit.

When I get done in the shower, I dry off and curl up in bed. I turn on a movie to drown out the creepy noises that the cabin gives off. The anticipation of a bad dream is what will cause the nightmare to be so awful tonight. I am dreading falling asleep, but I know I have to. I can’t deprive myself and go insane to avoid sleep. When I finally let myself drift away, their faces return and the pain consumes me.

2

Phoenyx

One Week Later

I’ve been a good girl all week. I haven’t gone after anyone yet, but I’m excited too. I have someone picked out, and everything is ready. He lives alone and doesn’t have security cameras. I am still wearing a mask with my hair pulled into it. I am also wearing shoes that are not my size in case I leave prints behind. I also have gloves, and I am fully clothed, so there is not a chance of touch DNA being transferred. Apparently, that’s a thing now. I am essentially wearing a bodysuit.

The first night in the cabin, my nightmares were horrendous. Every day after that, they have gotten slightly better. Last night was the first time I slept through the night since before the attack. My nightmares were still awful, but they didn’t wake meup this time. I’m hoping that after murdering this dumb fucker, I can go without a nightmare altogether.

My work week has been fabulous. I love being back in the office. Everyone is so kind and thoughtful. I expected people to stare at a minimum, but no one is treating me any differently. I know they see the scars because I’m not exactly hiding them, and they know what happened to me, so it’s refreshing to not be treated like an office freak.

I think what pisses me off the most is that the friends that I did have are gone now. My recovery was an inconvenience to them, and they all stopped texting. None of them ever showed up to check on me either. Cade messaged from my phone to let them know, but they all gave their fake sincerity before eventually abandoning the group chat altogether. All they were ever concerned about was partying, and I can’t exactly go clubbing when I had over five hundred stitches in my body, so fuck them. I didn’t need them anyway.

The man I have chosen to hunt first is Roger Harrington. He raped and tortured a girl named Lacey. He met her at a bar but then followed her after she rejected him. She ended up with permanent brain damage because of what he did to her. Her best friend Sasha is the one who put his information on the dark web when the charges were dismissed, so I let her know that I would take care of him. Apparently, people get paid to do this, but all I need is the satisfaction that they will never hurt anyone ever again. This led to an influx of unknown people reaching out to see if I would take care of their person. I will go through all of those later, but right now I am focused on Roger.

Men like him don’t think anything bad will ever happen to them. They think they are invincible. Untouchable. I go to the back door and find that it is unlocked. Wonderful. Once inside, I find the door to his basement and go down as quietly as I can. I set up an area in the center of the room with a table restingon top of thick plastic. I have meticulously planned every step of this, so I know that there will not be a shred of evidence left behind.

Once I have everything to my liking, the rest is simple. I scream at the top of my lungs to grab his attention. Almost immediately, I hear his heavy footsteps stomping through the house toward me. I stay to the side so that he doesn’t see me immediately. Not like there is much to see. I have tight black pants, long-sleeved black shirt, a scream mask that covers everything from the top of my head to down past my shoulders. I have tall, solid black boots on that are two sizes too big. It’s going to take some getting used to before I can tolerate wearing these boots, but it’s just an extra step to make sure nothing leads back to me. I even parked a mile away so I could walk here.

Roger steps off the stairs, and I press the barrel of a gun against the back of his head. He freezes before slowly turning to face me. “Well, hello there,” he says with a smirk.

“Go to the table,” I say simply. I knew that he would not cooperate, but really, I just wanted an excuse to shoot him in the foot. When I lower the weapon and pull the trigger, he screams and drops to the ground to hold his now bloody foot.

“You crazy bitch!” he screams. “You shot me!”

“Go. To. The. Table,” I say, pausing between each word. He hesitates, so I point the gun at his other foot. He instantly responds and crawls his way over to the table. “Stand.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he yells at me. I giggle to myself because he has no idea what I’m going to do to him.

“Take your clothes off,” I say. “Now.”

“Who put you up to this?” he demands.

“No one,” I say as I watch him remove his clothes. “I just hate men who think it’s okay to take from women. Tell me, Roger. How many times did Lacey beg you to stop? Hmm? How manytimes did she beg you to stop raping her or beating her? How much blood did you need to see before you finally stopped?”

“I didn’t… she wanted that,” he snaps.

“Right,” I laugh. “She wanted to be beaten in the head so many times that she no longer knows who she is. She wanted permanent brain damage that now requires around the clock care because you just wanted to take and take from her until she had nothing left to give.”

“I—”

“Bend over the table. Now,” I yell.

“What? No. Are you?—”

“I swear to God, I will shove this gun up your ass and pull the trigger until you stop breathing,” I growl. “Bend. Over.” He is teary-eyed now, but he listens. I go over and tie his wrists together before securing them to the table. I then tie each foot to the legs of the table before going to my bag.

“W-What are you doing?” he stammers.

“Showing you what it feels like,” I say as I pull the lube and massive dildo out of the bag. I bought the largest and most damaging dildo I could find. That led me to a seventeen-inch rhino dildo with a three-and-a-half-inch girth. Roger start to scream and mumbles something into his gag, but I ignore him as I get the belt out of the bag. It is a simple black leather belt. The first time I slap the belt across his back, a flood of emotions hit me. It all manifests as anger again, so I keep hitting him. His screams are blissful. I imagine it’s the screams of my attackers.

Soon.