Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Fear?
Logan isn’t afraid of anything.
Maybe a grizzly.
The beast slams something down on Logan—an ax. What sort of animal carries around an ax? It thwacks into his shoulder, damn near severing his arm from his body. The horrible wail pouring into the cabin is from Logan. Pained and horrified. What a beautiful sound.
While Logan screams in agony, I watch the beast grab his foot and yank him out of view. Unable to keep my curiosity at bay, I roll onto my back to stare down the monster.
Massive. Feral. Rippling with rage. His eyes are pure malice as he stares down his prey. Not me. I’m not the prey. I’m the beast’s young.
Dad.
It’s my dad.
The man whom I feared might kill me for getting my sister pregnant is brutally attacking the man who raped me. Even with him being half blurry without my glasses, I’d recognize him anywhere.
“Dad,” I croak out.
He’s an animal right now, yanking and dragging the screaming rapist out of the cabin into the icy darkness.
I need to see.
Scrambling from the bed, I yank up my underwear, throw on my jeans and coat, and then stuff my feet into my boots. Lastly, I grab my glasses off the end table. Everything comes into sharp focus. I follow the bloody smears through the cabin, onto the porch, and into the snow. Past my cabin where my family is at, ignoring the cries of my sister and mom and little brothers.
I need to see.
Dad continues to drag the vermin, heading straight for the gate. I stumble over my feet, hurrying to follow after him. He disappears around the corner, but Logan’s screaming leads the way. I continue to follow Dad, finally catching up to him. He’s snarling and huffing, using his ax in one hand to clear any brush in his way while hauling his prey behind him.
He stops in front of a tree a hundred yards from our fenced-in property. His eyes dart briefly to mine before he drops the ax. With a grunt, he slams his boot into Logan’s face. Bones crunch and Logan makes a pained cry. I can’t look away.
I need to see.
I need to see Logan in pain. I need to see his blood.
Dad’s boot rears up again before slamming Logan in the center of his chest. Logan gasps for breath but doesn’t catch it before Dad brings down his boot, this time, on his stomach. This causes Logan to vomit all over himself and Dad’s brutal boot.
I watch in awe as Dad steps on Logan’s nearly severed arm, grinding the bottom of his boot into the exposed bone, sinew, and muscle.
I don’t gag or look away because I need to see.
Over and over, Dad brings his boot down on every part of Logan’s body. He saves the rapist’s now flaccid cock for last, stomping harder than anywhere before. Logan moans, his good arm trying to push Dad’s boot away.
Not happening.
Dad abandons him for a moment to snap a small, thin tree in half. Only about two feet remain, the tip sharp and pointed. Then he grabs Logan, hauling him into a sitting position. Wrapping his arms around him, he picks him up and walks backward until they’re over that tree.
I need to see even though this will be horrifying.
Dad pushes down with all his might on Logan’s body. The scream that comes out of Logan is unlike anything I’ve ever heard in my life. Terrible and haunting. It’s the scream of ultimate pain and looming death.
My fierce father steps away, scoops up his ax, and then points it at me. “Stay back, Son.”
I realize I’d stumbled closer in my effort to watch him torture Logan. Staggering back several steps, I keep my eyes on Logan. His arm hangs by a flimsy, thin piece of muscle, showing through the hacked opening of his coat. The entire thing is twisted at an unnatural angle.
Disgusting.
Dad heaves the ax above him and brings the sharp blade down over Logan’s other shoulder. This time, Logan loses the other arm completely.
He’ll never be able to hit me with them ever again.
Then Dad swings the ax again, sinking it down between his thighs. I wince when I see his cock slide off the blade and land in the snow beside him. Dad continues hacking at this man, on his legs and torso, but strategically leaving his head, heart, and vital organs intact.
Satisfied with his work, Dad tosses the ax aside to study Logan’s bleeding, twitching body. He’s still alive in there somewhere because he makes soft groans and gurgling sounds.
He’ll bleed out from the ax wounds or internal injuries, or the wild animals will feast on him tonight. Either way, Logan won’t live to see another sunrise.
Dad scoops up his ax and then walks over to me, violence still gleaming in his eyes. I don’t flinch away because he’s not here to hurt me.