Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
With that cryptic statement, he pulled out a remote from his pocket pressed a button. A flat screen TV slid silently into view. It remained black for a few seconds, then flickered to life and projected my worst nightmare onto the screen.
Jack was sitting in a metal chair with his feet and hands attached to the legs and arm rests of the chair. A giant of a man with fists the size of a sledge hammer was beating Jack. Not every once in a while, but a continuous steady flow of blows; one right after the other.
It wasn’t until he pulled his hand back that I saw he also had on a pair of brass knuckles to facilitate the beating he was giving.
Jack’s face was a bloody mess, but each blow of the giant’s fist didn’t illicit one iota of sound out of him. His pain was immediately obvious to me, and with each sound of a fist hitting flesh I died a little inside.
“Please stop.” I whispered. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
Peter’s laugh was diabolical. “Oh, you would have done that anyway. This is purely for my viewing pleasure. You see, it makes me hard. I like a little violence with my sex. We’re going to finish what we started all that time ago. No mommy to interrupt us this time.”
I was completely confused as to what he was talking about, but I didn’t want to question him and make this worse than it already was. Maybe, if I could just withhold my attitude, I could hold him off long enough for help to arrive.
My eyes stayed glued to the screen, and I watched as Jack was hit in the face, the ribs, the stomach, the groin, and the arms repeatedly. Bile was yet again rising in my throat, and I knew that if the beating continued much longer, I wouldn’t be able to cover my reaction anymore.
The love of my life was being beaten, all because of me. I was the reason he was here in the first place, and I felt like the lowest scum of the earth. I’d take his place gladly if I could.
“Please. Please.” I chanted repeatedly.
I hadn’t realized that I was doing so until Peter’s hand made contact with my cheek. Pain blasted through the nerve endings of my face, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from chanting.
“Enough!” Peter said harshly.
“Please. Please. Please.” I kept saying.
It was that point that I realized that I was praying.
“Fine, if you don’t shut up, I’ll shut you up.” He said as he plunged something into the meat of my thigh. Straight through my pants and all.
“What did you do?” I asked in horror.
His smile didn’t detract from the evil gleam in his eyes. “You’ll love it. I hear it makes you feel wonderful. Stormy seemed to think so a few years ago.”
The door opened behind him and an older man with bright red hair entered, along with the man who was beating Jack. The man was also dragging an unconscious Jack behind him by the arms.
“Jack!” I gasped and started forward, only to be reminded that I was connected to the wall by a chain.
The man dragging Jack dropped him once he was in a good position near the wall, and I watched, helplessly, as his head hit the floor with a sickening thud.
“Wake him up.” The old man snapped.
“Yes, sir.” The flunky said enthusiastically, then waved a tube of what I assumed was ammonium carbonate underneath his nose.
He woke with a start and exploded. One second he was on his back, and the next he had the man in his grip and was twisting his neck. Snapping it within a few seconds.
“Stop.” Peter said with a deadly calm.
Tearing my eyes away from the dead man, I turned to find the barrel of a .357 pointed straight at my face from less than two feet away.
Jack froze, utter horror filling his face when he saw who had us, and what was pointed at me.
His arms slowly came up from his side and raised until the palms of his hands were flat against the back of his head. “What do you want me to do?”
“Attach yourself to those chains there. No sudden moves.” Peter cracked.
Doing as he was told, Jack had his arms shackled to the wall in much the same way I was in a matter of seconds.
“Call someone to dispose of the trash.” The older man said.
It was more than obvious that he was used to being obeyed; it wasn’t until a few moments had passed that he looked over to Peter and noticed he wasn’t moving. “Do you need me to explain, or can you handle the directive without supervision?”
Peter flushed at the reprimand, but followed directions nonetheless. “Good boy.” I said sweetly as he walked toward the dead body.
He froze and looked at me with crazy in his eyes, smiled, and then pulled the body out by the legs.
“Now, now, daughter. Watch what you say to your brother. We both know how unusually cruel he can be.”
My head felt like it was full of cotton as I processed what he’d just said. “You’re a fucking liar!”
Shock and denial filled me.
“Oh, no. Your husband has my papers, so I’m sure you already saw the paternity test in there. Clever of me to plant the evidence. Too bad about that young firefighter. Don’t you wonder why I wouldn’t let Peter kill you? Couldn’t have him killing his own sister, could I?” He asked wistfully. “Although, it got a little dicey there when that firefighter stuck his nose into my business. Called the cops and got them all involved. They even filed a missing person report about my son! The nerve!”
“You-you can’t be. My mother said you died.” I rasped.
“Of course she did. The stupid whore was a junkie when she got pregnant with you, and I wasn’t sure you were mine. But when you were born with my bright, red hair, I knew you were mine down to the very marrow.”