Page 31 of Tortured Souls
“Wh-what the fuck?” I removed his gag once I got down here so he could talk. Plus, I was worried he was going to throw up and kill himself by suffocating on his own vomit. Not today, Edmund. He pulls at his arms and then his legs, which are still tightly secured to the chair he’s occupying, and begins to thrash harder when he realizes he’s tied down.
“Where the fuck am I? Help! Please someone help me!” he bellows, his voice bouncing off the walls and piercing my ears with his annoyingly high-pitched voice.
“Shh, you’re hurting my ears. Plus, no one is going to hear you anyway, so I suggest you save your energy,” I say with the sweetest voice I can muster. Edmund whips his head from sideto side, trying to see me, but he’ll have no luck since I’m standing behind him.
“Wh-who are you? Why am I here?” He’s almost crying—we haven’t even started and this prick is already tearing up. Pathetic.
“Edmund, Edmund, Edmund.” I draw out his name while flipping open my butterfly knife in quick succession. The sound of the metal is music to my ears. “The funny thing is, you know why you’re here. Probably not my reason, since you’ve stacked up a pretty high list of fucked-up shit you’ve done. Yeah, I’ve been keeping tabs on you. You’re a videographer, the man behind the camera.” I start walking slowly around the man in the chair, my boots echoing off the concrete floor until I’m standing right in front of him. “Capturing all the vial and heinous activities people pay you money for. Oh yeah, I’m well aware of your fetishes. And unluckily for me, I was one of your main characters once. You may not remember me since it wassoooolong ago, but I do. I remember it quite vividly. Even though I’d rather forget.”
A memory plays in front of me like a movie clip. Young, frightened, and wrapped in an itchy brown blanket with nothing covering my body beneath. Young, I was so fucking young and terrified as my eyes peered around the room that was set up to look like a makeshift school room. Vomit was held back by my constant swallowing. I tried hard not to let the tears fall, especially when I remembered the evil monster who brought me here: my own mother.
You see, my mother was dabbling in the underground porn industry. Fast becoming blinded by her greed from how much men will pay for this type of content. She’d even gained a small group of employees, or women actually, that had become her stars in such content. However, unluckily for me, her girl that was booked for this specific scene had fallen ill. And wouldyou believe it, my mother offered me up instead. I refused, obviously. How the hell could a mother do this to her own child? That was exactly what I was, a child. While I fought tooth and nail for her to consider someone else, she threatened a punishment worse than death. Throwing me to my father’s men for their own pleasure. And while this was not the savory option, I knew one man was better than a whole club of disgusting, vile, and filthy heathens. So, I surrendered.
Standing on that set, the director, Edmund, went through the script with me. All the while, I prayed for death to come for me.Come collect me now, Mr. Grim Reaper. I will leave with you willingly. But it never came. That day, I was forced to do things no fifteen-year-old girl should have done. Scarring me mentally and physically for the rest of my life. The whole time my mother watched on, clutching her designer bag with a cynical smile across her face. All she saw were dollar signs, while I lost another fragment of my tortured soul. This incident alone awarded Edmund a spot on my kill list.
A sudden inhale of breath rips me from the memory, and I’m grateful. Edmund has finally connected the dots and recognizes me. His eyes practically bulge from their sockets.
“Sk-Skylar?”
“Bingo. I’m quite impressed you got it on the first guess.” I flip the blade open in front of his face, the loud clink of the metal making him wince. Such a pussy.
“Listen, Sky, I didn’t mean—it was a long time ago.” He can’t even get his words straight, his eyes too distracted by my blade to form a coherent sentence. He tries to fight his restraints when I kneel in front of him. His legs tremble as I glide my knife ever so gently across his scrawny thighs. This is going to hurt.
Without warning, I slam the blade through his thigh, his femur bone fighting my blade but soon gives way. Scream after scream pours from his throat as he tries to escape, but it’s futile.
“Edmund, I’ve grown up since you’ve last seen me, and I’ve come to realize a few things.” I stand, leaving my knife sticking from his thigh as I begin pacing in front of him. “My mother is an awful person, the worst of the worst, a true demon on this planet, yet you idolized her. You and so many others who either met their fate already or will soon be in your exact seat.” I cross my arms and wait for Edmund to settle down a bit more. His cries are deafening, and I want him to understand fully why he’s here.
“My mother, Damien, and a few others from the club paid you to create, what they thought to be, cinematic masterpieces. When in reality, it sealed your fate for how you would leave this earth. Now, since you assisted in stealing a piece of my soul from me, I’m going to take a few things from you.” I kneel down again so I’m face-to-face with this lowlife scum. “And I promise you, Edmund, I’m going to make it very, very painful for you.”
I rip my blade from his thigh and revel in the way he cries out in pain. Edmund may not have been the man who touched me in those videos, but he never stopped them either. No, he actually got off on my pain and captured every moment of my torture. There are two types of men in this world: men who do bad things and men who see bad things happen and don’t do anything to stop it. Both are guilty in my eyes. And Edmund is guilty.
Time to get to work.
SAXON
“Stop, pleeeease, stop! I’m so sorry, I really am! Please just stop!”The sound of Edmund’s cries fills my car as Finn and I watch my girl torture the absolute shit out of this man who’s done her wrong. I’m smiling—so much pride in my chest watching my girl seek revenge on those who’ve hurt her. She’s certifiably insane, no question about it. Her techniques are painfully creative, so much so, I’m jealous I haven’t thought of them.
“Daaamn, man. Is that fucking piano wire?” Finn asks from beside me, his curiosity at an all-time high as he leans closerto me, watching my phone screen. “Fuck, dude, this woman is brilliant. Insane, yes, but fucking impressive. I’m fucking hard as rock over here.” I punch Finn’s shoulder at his commentary, anger flooding my blood. No one talks about my girl like that. I don’t care who the fuck you are.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I say to him. He gives me a smirk and raises his hands in surrender. The pair of us continue to watch as she proceeds to tie the piano wire around his toes, sawing each one off one at a time. Edmund’s screams start to fade, and I notice he’s going in and out of consciousness from the pain. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t pass out when she carved theNetflixsymbol into his shoulder blade with her knife. With his profession, I found it very fitting.
“Don’t hurt me, but I like her. I think you should keep her. She could show me some of her methods. But quick question—do we trust her now? Like, do you think she’s still a part of Sergio’s club or no?” I glare at Finn, his tone letting me know he is 100 percent serious. Of course he is. Finn is the only other person I know who gets off on torturing others. He’s sick in the head, but he’s also one of my closest friends, and I help him satiate his hunger when the time calls for it.
His question hits me right in the chest. Do I trust her? I mean, she’s been here for two years now and hasn’t so much as tried to reach out to her family. Does that mean she truly is no longer affiliated with them? Fuck, it’s a constant back-and-forth in my head. I want to trust her more than anything. I’ve let my guard down enough around her, and she has not tried to kill me yet. A small part of me does trust her. I mean, look at her now. She’s fucking annihilating a man that used to be in deep with her parents. That should be evidence enough that she no longer fucks with them. But a small voice in my head tells me to be aware of who she is. Vigilance is how the club stays safe.
We continue watching for a bit longer until her fun comes to an end and Edmund slumps over in his chair, dead. No doubt from blood loss, but I don’t miss the sadness on her face when she notices he’s gone. She probably wasn’t done with him, and her torturing is finally over. She makes me laugh—something not many people can do. Once she begins dismembering his body, I nudge Finn, and we exit my car.
Walking towards Vice, I mentally cross off the name Edmund Ray in my mind. When I stayed the night with Sky, I noticed a list of names tacked to her wall beside her bed. I snooped, yes. Most of the names were already crossed out with red ink, but five more were left untouched. Well, four now that Edmund is gone. When I noticed Damien Devonte on her list, it clicked that it was a kill list of sorts. A list of all those who’ve done her dirty in some way, shape, or form, and she is eliminating them one by one. The last name I noticed instantly was Sergio Sagan—her father.
Picking the lock to the back door, Finn and I slip inside and make our way to the basement. We take the stairs, not wanting to make ourselves known by using the elevator. As soon as we reach the door, the unmistakable sound of a saw kicks on, and I know she’s about to remove some limbs to better fit in her garbage bags.
“Is that a fucking chain saw?” Finn whispers beside me, his eyebrows skyrocketing up his forehead. I nod once as his mouth pulls into a smile. This fucking guy and his fascination with death should be sickening, but I’ve grown up around it, and his obsession just makes me smirk back. I wait for the sound of the saw cutting through flesh before I push the door open slowly, and the pair of us slip in. We stand back, our bodies pressed against the wall opposite Sky, her back towards us. We are mostly in the shadows. The only light down here is a couple small bulbs hanging over her head.
The glow of her body against the mess of what once was a man is making my cock thicken in my jeans. Fuck, now I feel like Finn, getting off on mayhem. I pull out my cell and snap a quick picture of her. I study the image—it would be perfect for the cover of a horror film.
We wait until she’s finished removing both arms and legs and lastly, the head. She stands up and straightens out her back. Discarding the saw on the floor, she lets out a deep sigh. It’s no walk in the park dismembering a body, and she’s had quite a night of torturing already.
Clap.