Page 47 of Sinners’ Appetite

“Where are you?” Nikki asks, squinting into the camera.

“I wish I could explain, baby girl, but Jeremy and I have to get moving,” I reply.

“Have you found him yet?”

“Fuck yeah, we did. We’re just waiting for him to leave the club,” I say. “Catch ya later, baby.”

“I… love you.”

“I love you too, baby girl.”

She blows me a kiss and I pretend to catch it, forgetting about Jeremy being right beside me the whole time. As soon as I end the video call, Jeremy starts to laugh hysterically.

“Shut the fuck up…” I laugh.

“You two are just too cute.”

I shake my head, focusing on Paul’s car. I’m not sure why he hasn’t taken off yet. I can’t see through the car windows but I have a feeling that he’s on the phone or something.

Finally, after a good five minutes, he starts the engine and backs up. I do the same and quickly pull out of the parking lot, staying close behind him. A few blocks later, he turns onto another street and pulls into a driveway.

I keep driving, hoping to find somewhere to park so we can get this over and done with. Once I do, we hop out of the car and walk back towards his house.

“These houses are fucking fancy…” Jeremy chuckles as we walk by several top of the line, almost identical houses.

“Why would people want to live this close to one another? There’s nothing more than a foot between them.”

As we approach Paul’s front yard, we notice something alarming. Every single window has thick bars on the outside.

“How the fuck are we going to get in there?” Jeremy asks.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. We’ll figure it out somehow.”

I’ll admit, it’s risky. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. For her .

“Let’s go back to the motel for a while. We’ll come back later tonight,” I say, hoping that he’ll still be here when we decide to return.

“You’ll need these.” I hand Jeremy two sets of latex gloves.

“Gross, I hate the feeling of those. I used to wear them when I worked in produce.”

I can’t hold back my laughter. “You worked in produce?”

“Yes, Mr. Hotshot. I worked in fucking produce.”

“Were your melons juicy, Jeremy?”

“Fuck off. It was a while ago. You’re a dick.”

“What other jobs have you had?”

He smirks and rolls his eyes at me. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Tell me…” I insist, handing him a black ski mask.

“Really? Do I have to wear this?”

“Yes…you do.” I grin, tucking my own into my back pocket.

“Okay, so, I worked at a coffee shop once…” he admits.

“You were a barista?”

“Kinda. I made the pastries, actually.”

“Hot.”

Again, he rolls his eyes and shoves the mask and gloves into the front of his jeans.

I grab a few more supplies and when we’re ready, we head in the direction of Paul’s house.

Low and behold, when we get there, his car is still parked in front of his house and all but one light is off as far as we can tell.

“What’s the plan?” Jeremy asks me, sliding his gloves on before pulling the mask out.

“That all depends.”

“On what?”

“If that girl is still there, we need to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”

Jeremy nods and we make our way into Paul’s yard, heading straight out back in hopes to find somewhere to gain access inside. To our surprise, the dumbass left his back door unlocked.

“I’ll go in first. Stay close behind me.”

I slowly open the door, rather pleased with the fact that it doesn’t make a sound. Nothing but darkness surrounds us, aside from the odd flash from a TV on the opposite side of the house. The smell of the house is nauseating, causing me to cover my nose as I make my way in further.

Creeping around the corner, I see a kitchen leading into the living-room where we see Paul passed out on the couch.

“This should be easy enough…” I whisper.

I scan the room, wondering where the woman is that he left with earlier. Since I don’t see her anywhere, I walk right over to the couch and wrap my hands around Paul’s throat, forcing him to wake up within seconds.

“W-what the f-fuck?” he mumbles, barely able to speak.

“Good evening, Paul. Fancy seeing you again…” I grin.

“Who a-are you?”

I tighten my grip around his neck, hoping it won’t take too long for him to pass out. When he finally does, I roll him to the floor, his limp body making a loud thump against the hardwood flooring.

“What now, boss?” Jeremy asks from the doorway.

“Find me a chair. We’re gonna tie him to it and wait for him to join us again.”

Not long after Jeremy leaves the room, he comes back with a wooden chair. “Will this do?” he asks.

“That’s perfect.”

He sets it down and I motion for him to come help me drag Paul over to it. Once we get him seated, I pull a section of rope out of my pocket and secure his limbs to the chair. I then reach for the jack knife I brought with me, flipping it open and pressing it into the skin along his jawline.

“Good God, Paul… you’re one ugly motherfucker.” I sigh as I grab a fistful of his hair, forcing his head back.

“That’s not very nice,” Jeremy laughs, folding his arms over his chest.

When the knife gets closer to the main artery in his neck, I stop. As much as I want to get this done and get back to our girls, killing him right now would be a waste of time.

Instead, I pull back and then plunge the knife into his upper leg, jerking him awake and screaming in seconds. The second he looks down and sees his blood spewing out from the wound, his head falls forward and he passes out.

“Awe, that’s cute… He’s scared of his own blood.”

“Hey, don’t judge. I’m the same way. I can’t stand seeing my own blood.”

“Ridiculous…” I reply, trying so hard not to laugh.

Reaching down, I slap the side of Paul’s face as hard as I can so he wakes up again.

“There he is… We lost you for a second.” I chuckle, squeezing his chin in my hand as he looks up at me with raw fear in his eyes. “Wanna tell us where the girl is?”

He shakes his head. “W-what girl?”

“Don’t play stupid, Paul. We’ve been watching you all day. We know you brought her here. Where the fuck is she?”

He nods his head toward a door in the hallway. “She’s…in there. I-I didn’t hurt her.”

Without hesitation, Jeremy makes his way over, gagging profusely as soon as he cracks the door open.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck is that smell?” he exclaims, backing up against the wall behind him.

“Yeah, Paul—whats with the smell? This place fucking reeks.”

“I never noticed.” He smirks.

I hold the pointed tip of the knife up to my finger, spinning it a few times before gripping the handle tight, stabbing the same leg as before but creating a new wound right next to the other one.

“I don’t have time to play games, Paul,” I seethe through my clenched teeth.

“Fuuckkk youuuuu!” He screams, reminding me that I’ll have to stuff his mouth with something before he alerts the whole neighborhood and our play date is cut short.

“Go see if she’s still alive…” I tell Jeremy who’s still gaining composure against the wall with his head held in his hands.

The very second he flicks the light on, he lets out a gasp, covering his mouth with one hand as he braces himself against the doorframe with the other. “Fuck, Malachi, you gotta come see this,” he mumbles.

I take a deep breath and walk over, peeking my head around the door. The entire room is lined with soundproofing materials, which look to be double the thickness than its typical use requires.

Lined up along one side are at least five chains attached to the floor with what looks to be two dog dishes set out in front of them. Although the room appears to be clean, it reeks of—rotting flesh.

When my eyes finally wander to the corner of the room, that’s when I see the girl he left The Palace with.

I rush over to her, and she cowers away, a fear instilled in her eyes like I’ve never seen before.

I don’t know how long she’s been trailing along with Paul, but she looks weak and deprived.

Almost—sickly, but with pretty clothes on and her makeup done.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to stay put until we’re done, okay? I promise, we’ll get you out of here. Can you be patient for me?”

Finally, she nods and curls into a tight ball, quietly sobbing as she rocks herself back and forth.

Who the fuck does this shit to people? I’ll never understand what runs through their sick twisted minds. I may have killed a person—or two—but I did it for the right reasons, if there is such a thing. Those people didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as their victims. I did what had to be done.