Page 155 of Serpent In White

“Right.” I drag the blade of my knife down his throat and onto his chest, just hard enough to scrape him without actually cutting.

I feel him trembling in fear, his eyes widening as he loses his confidence. The look in them gives me the slightest piece of solace. I would like to give this look to Darian someday. For his revenge… Restitution.

But I’m not sure it could work like that.

“I just want you to know, Dan, that it gives me great pleasure to take your life,” I mutter, poking my blade into his stomach gradually until he groans out loud. I quickly reach onto the floor and grab a sock, stuffing it into his mouth.

His hands fly up in an attempt to remove it, but I pin one of them down in my wrist. He struggles against me, his other arm flying up. I put my knee on it, holding him down while my blade stuffs deeper into his gut, puncturing his flesh.

His eyes widen as blood pours instantly from the wound.

“To wipe you off this earth,” I growl, dragging the blade up, up his stomach, cutting him deep, leisurely and long.

He gurgles, eyes bulging, sweat seeping from his pores while blood gushes out of him, all over me, and the bed.

It’s everywhere, the smell of it thick in the air.

But I’m not done.

“For hurting my brother…MyDarian… Tonight you die, Dan.” I jerk the blade even harder, farther up until his breastplate stops me, his muffled wails fading into the background to my pulse.

It’s hard with this knife, since it’s not that long. But it’s sharp as hell, slicing through his skin, tissue, muscle and entrails.

“You die, and he lives.”

I’m out of breath, panting while I gut the motherfucker, slow and precise, to ensure he feels every single second of pain, every inch that will never be enough.

Blood soaks into my clothes, coating my arms and legs. The whole room reeks of copper, the metal in the air so thick you can taste it.

My hand keeps grinding, digging the blade into him as rough as I can.

Dan sputters for only another minute before he gives up and stops breathing.

And I let out a long exhale, peering down at the mess I’ve made. I can see into his body, his ruptured organs visible beneath the vibrant red of blood everywhere.

I close my eyes and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, trying to brush the hair out of my eyes, feeling a smear of blood on my forehead, sticky.

It makes me chuckle.

“Bye, Dan,” I breathe, slithering off him and staggering away from the bed. “Thanks for dying so well.”

Staring down at the scene before me for a moment, I wonder if I should even bother cleaning it. But I shake my head, and step out of my sweats and boxers, both of which are red and completely soaked through.

I go to the bathroom naked and jump in the shower, quickly washing the blood from my body. I wash my knife too, admiring it; the small item in my hand. I used it to kill my foster father.

I took a man’s life. And I don’t really feel bad about it.

If that makes me a sociopath, fine. I’ll live with it. But honestly, it needed to happen.

Dan had to die for what he did to Darian. My brother will never be the same. He’ll carry this for the rest of his life.

Something that permanently damaging… it’s unforgivable.

I get out of the shower and go to our bedroom. But when I see the time on the clock, I become a bit frantic.

We have to go. We have to go now.

I think leaving this place could only be a good thing. There’s been too much pain here. Too much hurt and misery.