Page 60 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

MIRROR GIRL

I pace back and forth in front of the tank, baring our teeth in what might pass as a smile at the man we’ve dreamed of slaughtering for years.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you little cunt,” David snarls, pounding his fists against the toughened glass walls. “I’ll make what I did to you as a child look like a walk in the park. I’ll tear you into pieces and feed you to the dogs.”

Laughter bubbles in our throat. “It’s cute that you think that.” I pull the rope dangling to the side, a wide grin stretching across our face. The writhing box of snakes above his head opens, and they pour into the tank. The scream David makes is the most delicious sound I’ve ever heard.

I give him a little wave before closing the curtains around him. Let him stew in the darkness with the slithering creatures. Perhaps it’ll teach him something about fear.

I hum a little song while slipping into the ruffled pink satin dress.

Frilly white socks come next, along with shiny baby-pink Mary Janes.

Tessa’s emotions bleed through as I dress us like she was on her sixth birthday, causing our fingers to tremble while doing up the straps.

The mirror beckons me, and I do a little twirl in front of it, feeling discombobulated with Tessa staring back at me from the cold surface.

Don’t put me to sleep , she begs. This is your day, but I need to see him suffer too.

Promise.

She smiles before settling back. A promise made, a promise kept.

I skip out of the apartment and twirl around, our arms outstretched, pleased with the perfection of the kill room.

Tessa’s boys did well. I have to be careful not to be too greedy, too hasty.

Every scream, every bead of sweat, every drop of blood is mine to savor.

By the time midnight strikes, he’ll wish he’d never even looked at us, let alone touched us.

The curtains hiding the tank draw back, revealing the monster of our youth.

The man responsible for endless pain, suffering, and humiliation.

The man who stole her innocence, her self-esteem, her self-worth.

He doesn’t seem so dangerous now, curled up on the ground, sobbing, his arms over his head to protect himself from the snakes gliding over him.

Do you think we broke him?

I fucking hope not. It’ll be like trying to play with a headless doll. Where’s the fun in that?

I tap on the pane, and David glances up, his face contorting with shock when he sees how we’re dressed. That quickly turns to hatred when he leaps toward us, his fist level with our face. Good. He’s still in there.

Two masked demons appear like apparitions in the glass, protective presences hovering over us in a way that feels supportive instead of suffocating. I couldn’t have chosen better for her if I tried.

“Ready?” Eric asks, placing a hand on our shoulder.

I nod, and the floor beneath David slides open, revealing a grate. The snakes fall through, clearing the tank within minutes. “Gross,” I say, twirling the end of our pigtail. “Look. He pissed himself.”

Nate and Eric chuckle, and David’s face turns red. He spits, a disgusting greenish-yellow blob that slides down the once pristine wall. “Get fucked.”

“Nah, not with that little thing you call a dick. We’ve moved on to bigger and better things.” I slide our hands up Eric’s and Nate’s chests, enjoying the way David’s mouth curls in disgust. “Now strip. I don’t want to smell you.”

“Like I said—get fucked.”

I raise our eyes to the ceiling and sigh. “If you don’t, then Tessa’s men will come in, drag you out, and cut them off you with rusty scissors. Maybe they’ll miss and chop off something important.”

“Did your mother slap you around once too often? You are Tessa, you delusional cunt.”

I press our palms against the cool glass and bare our teeth.

“I’m not Tessa. I am the monster you created, born the night you ripped her apart.

I have protected her since.” Our tongue glides up the glass, and David recoils, uncertainty flickering through his eyes.

“But do you know what else I am, David? I am your judge, your jury, and your fucking executioner. I am your biggest nightmare made flesh, and for every drop of Tessa’s blood you spilled, for every tear she shed, I’m going to make you pay tenfold. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

He complies, stripping off the urine-soaked clothing and tossing them on the floor. He crosses his arms, attempting to look intimidating, but he’s got nothing on the men wearing the masks Tessa gifted them. Especially not standing there in stained boxers.

“Underwear too.”

David snarls but rips them down his legs and kicks them against the glass pane. “Happy?”

I give a wry chuckle and shake our head. “Not yet, but I will be. Soon.”

Eric taps his phone, and three small panels along the upper left side open.

Ice-cold water gushes out, drenching him.

David shrieks, looking like a drowned rat with his dark salt-and-pepper hair plastered to his head, and water dripping down his face.

His sad little prick practically jumps inside his body, tucking itself away like a turtle.

I was planning on sending him straight into the maze, but looking at the offensive member he used to cause us so much pain gives me an idea. An awful, horrific, terrible idea. I spin around and give the boys a pretty smile, tucking our hands behind our back. “Nate, how much do you love Tessa?”

He shakes his head. “What do you want?”

Our shoulder lifts, and I tap our finger against our lips. “Mmm… an operating table, a scalpel, tongs, cauterizer, and a suture kit.” He tilts his head, waiting, and I blow out a breath. “Please.”

“That’s better,” he mumbles under his breath before disappearing around the corner.

Good boy , Tessa says with a laugh.

You know you’re gonna get it for running away from Eric like you did. I wouldn’t push him if I were you.

Like he ever follows through.

Shall I tell him you said so?

No, no, that’s okay. I think it’s better if we keep it between us.

That’s what I thought.

When Nate comes back, I step aside, letting them manhandle a flailing David out of the tank and over to the little makeshift operating room he set up for us.

They attach cuffs to him and clip them to the railings.

All the while, David never takes his eyes off us, like he’s daring us to do our worst. Oh, we will.

“So, over in Arcadia City, there’s this guy known as The Chemist,” Eric says, sidling up beside us.

“Okay?”

“Well, he’s known for creating serums specifically designed for torture. And I might have one.”

“Ooh. And what does it do?”

“It decelerates the heart and slows blood flow through the veins. It also keeps victims conscious and makes their nerves register pain at a higher level.”

“Meaning a shallow cut will hurt ten times worse, and he won’t be able to escape into unconsciousness to avoid it. And with slower blood flow, he’ll last longer,” Nate explains.

Tessa’s laughter rings through our skull. “Do it.”

Eric smacks a kiss on our forehead before withdrawing a syringe and vial from his pocket and administering it. “It only takes two minutes to take effect.”

“You two might not want to watch,” I say, running the tip of our finger over the razor-sharp scalpel.

“We’re not going anywhere. Do your thing,” Nate replies, the two of them taking seats on nearby folding chairs.

I glide the scalpel over David’s toes. They flex and curl, but as much as I’d like to unleash my fury on his body, I can’t.

He needs to understand pain and suffering on a cellular level, down to the very marrow of his bones.

He must be as intimately acquainted with them as we are to understand the complexities of them.

And then there’s fear. He’s always been afraid of snakes, but leaving him in the tank with them was merely a warm-up.

By the end of the night, he’ll understand exactly what terror means.

The sweat beading on his brow. The increased heart rate.

The cold, clammy hands. The need to constantly look over your shoulder.

The urge to check under every bed and in every closet.

The way a scent or a single word can send you spiraling into a nightmare dimension where it feels like your heart will rip itself from its cage and your lungs refuse to inflate.

And it all starts with a single cut.

David peers down his body at me with a chuckle. “Can’t do it, can you?” He scoffs. “I knew you were all talk. How about you be Uncle David’s favorite niece and let me go?”

I cock our head and trail the scalpel over his stomach and up his chest. “And how about you shut up? Eric, can you help?” He leaps up and slams David’s head against the metal bed and holds his mouth open for me. “Say ahh.”

David’s pulse leaps in his throat, and a dot of moisture slides down his forehead when I grip his tongue with the tongs and slice off about an inch and a half of the muscle.

It drops onto the tray, and I lift the cauterizing tool and press it against the stump, the scent of burning flesh filling the room.

David thrashes against his restraints, his hands flopping in their cuffs like baby birds learning to fly.

Should we clip his wings too?

Nah, not yet. He won’t be able to crawl without them.

“You ’uckin bish!”

I pat him on the head. “Aww. Don’t worry, Uncle David. I’m going to give you a better tongue.” I spin around and grab gloves off the tray, snapping them on with dramatic flair. “Now, hold still.”

Miraculously, he does, making a choking sound as I pinch the head of his penis between our fingers and draw it out to its full length.

I glance at Nate and back again. No wonder David always drove flashy cars.

Tessa makes a gagging sound, but I ignore her.

I slice around the base, humming “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” while our ears ring with his screams and blood seeps from the cut.

Eric crosses one leg over the other, muttering something about staying on our good side.

A feeling I’ve never experienced—anticipatory joy, perhaps—spreads through us, raising the hair on our arms. It’s fucking orgasmic, an electric buzzing that heightens our senses and sends our heart racing when the offensive member drops to the table with a quiet thud.

I grab the cauterizer and use it on the mangled stump, sealing it before he loses too much blood.

David’s fists slam against the side of the table, drawing my attention. “Wha’ haf you ’one?” he bellows, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. I pick up the penis between two fingers and wave it in the air with a grin stretching across our face.

“Why, giving you back your tongue, of course. Silly goose.”

The back of his head slams against the table, and he lets out a wail, reminiscent of the kind Tessa used to make when he chased her through his house.

His face turns beet red, his body fighting the restraints.

Eric shoves his shoulders down, and I blow him a kiss with our free hand before picking up the suture kit and withdrawing a needle and thread.

I close one eye and nibble on our bottom lip as I thread it, giggling when I miss. I get it the third time and wave the curved needle in the air. “Okay, David. I need you to hold really still now, okay? Just like last time.”

As I sew his severed dick onto what’s left of his tongue, his horrified gurgling screams soothe a few of the jagged edges inside us.