No Mourners, No Funerals

41.✓

Kaz grabbed his pocket handkerchief, wiping the spit off of his face. Kaz flexed his fingers in his gloves, still slick with Jason's blood. 

He pulled the same blade out from a hidden pocket. Kaz used a gloved hand to shove Van Eck's head back in the chair, Kaz's fingers pulling open his eyelid, forcing him to watch. He held the knife just up to Van Eck's eyeball, watching as his pupil shook. He slowly lowered the knife down, inching it closer and closer, enjoying Van Eck's panic. 

Keeping him from blinking, he pressed the blade just onto the protective lens in front of the pupil. His hand had to strain to keep Jan's eyes open as he fought to close them. Kaz shoved the blade through the lens, burrowing it deep into the eye, swiftly twisting the blade and scooping out the center of his eye. He stepped back, flicking the piece of an eye off his blade. 

Kaz calmly grabbed his handkerchief, wiped off the blade, and gouged it into the remains of Jan Van Eck's eye.

"Who's blinded by hate now?" Kaz asked in a low, dark voice, spinning his blade.

Something stirred in Inej's gut. She didn't know what to say or do. She just stared at Kaz with a blank expression. 

Van Eck screaming was ringing in her ears. She knew Van called for his death when he spat on Kaz's face but, she shook her head and gulped hard. She wanted to say something, but words failed her.

Vlam was confused by Kaz's moments. First, he stopped petting Oiche and watched intently, his brows furrowing together. When Kaz cleaned off his face, he was mildly disappointed for just a split second. Then he pulled a knife out of his sleeve. 

Slowly Vlam tilted his head again when Dirtyhands grabbed Van Eck's face, and his eyes widened with a sudden realization. However, he couldn't look away. It was like watching two carriages crashed on the road. 

Vlam shifted back and just watched, he nearly gagged when the eye was cut, but after that, he didn't react much, except turning an even paler shade of white. Honestly, the throat-cutting with Jason was much, much worse for Vlam to watch

Jan yelled out in pain, withering in the seat. Every moment was agonizing. The hot wet blood trickled down his face mixing with tears. He felt like every nerve in him was on fire. He thrashed in his seat. He felt like he would throw up. He did throw up. The green chunks would lay on the floor, mixing with blood. 

He yelled some more. He couldn't form one thought other than Dirty hands. He knew he was merciless. He knew he was unforgiving. But this was unlike anything he'd expected. 

"Please" was all he said in a voice much too weak for his liking, a voice he didn't want to hear. 

But Jan Van Eck was scared.

Jason soon wakes up and notices that he's healed and alone in a room, a different one. Most of the ropes were cut off of him so that the healer could do their job. He sat up and reached into his boot and grabbed a small but sharp pocket knife from it, and cut himself out. He made quick work of gathering what things of his he could find.

Jason slipped on his coat and broke open the window in the room, making his escape to one of his safe houses.

Wylan stopped moving. Everything in him conflicting. He was thankful that his father was getting some pain, but he didn't know if this was too far. If it wasn't enough. 

He felt sick and decided that whatever Kaz would do next, he didn't have to watch. It was hard not to see himself reflected in his father's face, so he walked out to the living room and sat on the couch, knees curled up to his chest, listening to the yells of his father.