Beguile

Chapter 31

I've never sprinted so fast.

The door out of the room seemed so far. In front of me is an unending spiral and it induced the bile to the back of my throat.

I keep swallowing them back. And I keep getting distracted by the growing itch spreading all over my body. I thought it's because of the new scratch wounds but then it burned to my back, to my thighs, to my knees, even to the skin in between my toes. It burns, I can feel it but it cant be seen.

When I opened the door the first thing I saw is Kurt, still sitting around the picnic table but beaded with sweat as two girls are on their knees in front of him. They are mumbling something while a pair of hands stroking his thighs, and the others fingers is disgustingly crawling to the zippers of his crotch.

Kurt leaned his head back as he struggled to breath. He had unbutton his suit leaving the last three buttons intact, and his glowing pale chest exposed for everyone to see. Especially for the girls whose sole plan is to take him, their eyes in a sinister glow as they take on his sinful body.

I hadn't eaten the cookie. It became godsend that no one paid me attention, and the single cookie they gave me is gone to splintering bits in the pleasure of tiny insects.

But my friends.........  My friends.

They're mine and nobody else's.

I march towards them, each step burning with rage. Air whooshed pass me, and I shove the girl whose brushing her fingers atop the lightweight fabric over his crotch.

She scrambles onto the shoddy floor and her eyes has the audacity to widen in shock. "What are you doing!"

It wasn't a question but I answered anyway.

I couldnt form any words as rage gripped my mouth shut, instead I grab her collar and slap her across her face. My palm stings from the impact but it only feed the fury tickling under my veins.

Its not enough. My heart wanting to jump out of my chest. A mix of disgust and exhilaration are swirling at the back of my throat to the idea of gouging out her slutty eyes and ripping her perfectly moulded nails for touching what's mine.

I slap her again, and again, and again. At the same spot, at the same flesh.

She put up a fight. She slash out her arms, her nails digging onto my hands that are gripping her collar but I already gone numb. No matter how she graze my skin. No matter if blood starts to draw, all I can see is how her cheek start to rot at the continous impact.

She didnt stop to thrash around with her arms, her legs stuck as I straddle over her waist. But she seems so weak, even at the beginning like she never fought in her life.

And then I remember how she flutter her eyelashes, how sweet she talks, and her eyes so innocent. She never need to fight, men willingly flock to them thinking they'd get to easily score. However, its the men who gets to be manipulated.

Thrown to a room.

Stuck in chains.

Fed with aphrodisiac.

Humiliated, pounded again and again till they shrivel to death.

Rage churned in my guts as I imagine they've been planning the same with Kurt.
Even more when they manipulated him. That they sweet-talk him to stay, how he allowed them to touch him.
Their fingers stroking against the heat of his skin, lifting the hem of his shirt, and brushing over the thin fabric over his crotch.

Rip out her nails. The voice in my head says. Ironic, a whisper to a whisper. Cut off her fingers.

I shake off the thought even if I wanted to. There's no time for torture. Ill just kill her as painful, as horrific as possible.

In fury, my hand curled into a fist and instead of her cheek that already dented in crimson red, my hand swing out and connected to her nose.

I heard a crackle.

Her hands fell to her sides, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. She falls to her back like a sack of cement- she crumbles down onto the ground and laid unmoving. Blood splashed around like paint, her face disfigured as the thick make up cracked in a brutal mix of crimson. There's a crack on her nose like bone poking out of its flesh. Her eyes swelled shut, and the handprint on her cheek puff out in a satisfying red.

The rise and fall of her chest relieve the rage that had seize my heart. Good. She doesnt deserve to die yet.

When a sound tickle my ear and a pitch came onto me in a sudden shunt. I become reminded that there were two of them. I was distracted by the idea of torturing one of them that I'd gone deaf but my knuckles against bones.

I whip my head towards the fading scream behind me, worry simmering in my guts. Bunch of what-if's filtering through my brain.

What if I hadn't gotten distracted? What if we didn't follow them? What if we've gone straight to killing them the moment we saw them?

I would've grovel and beg to a God I don't believe in if something ever happens, but when my eyes caught Kurt I realize it's him I'd go down on my knees for.