His Corruption

Chapter 23

~Cristian~

"You didn't get his other side." Mario reminded.

I tossed the crowbar away, the metal clattering against stone. Flexing my hand, I didn't look in Mario's way. Instead I kept my eye on the imbecile in front of me. "Will you be quiet."

Mario threw back the rest of his beer and placed the bottle on the ground, stepping to the side to get a view of my prey.

"Remind me why you're here again."

"I told you man. Gabriella broke up with me." He said, not sounding the least bit hurt. "I'm still grieving."

I swiped my sleeve against my forehead and wiped off a splatter, hearing yet another train pass above us.

The floor shook. The crowbar vibrated against the floor, and once it passed, all that could be heard was blood dripping from the lowered head of the man before me.

Tousled brown hair. An angular nose I broke.
With red running down his entire face, he barely looked recognisable.

His eyes fell closed but his chest still rose.

I wasn't going to put him out of his misery yet. My plan was to slowly break him until he found it so painful to take his last breaths, he'd die of shock.

Mario gestured towards the man in front of me. "What'd he do to you anyway?"

"Hurt someone."

His eyebrows shot up. For a while he stood there, taking in the information like he couldn't believe that I was putting myself through this for the sake of someone else.

He didn't know the kind of war that was going through my mind, and had been going through since last week.

Since Elena put her lips on mine.

Something that simple was enough to make me ravenous. I ran a hand through my hair, not understanding any of it.

Elena was an infuriating girl and what was worse was the way she looked at me. With hot, intrusive eyes.

She wanted nothing to do with me, yet still always caught my gaze in a room. Clearly that innocence was an act, or was it?

I clenched my fists and headed to the door. "Finish him off, I need a cigarette."

Mario stood and picked up the crowbar a little too fast, but before I walked out I stopped for a second before snatching it from him, plunging the steel into the chest of the victim.

"Wow." Mario says, unimpressed. "That make you feel better?"

I ignored him and stepped out into a rustic hallway, lit by three yellow light bulbs. After leaving through the exit, the sound of another train passing over the bridge blared in my ears.

Weather in New York didn't leave room for mercy here. I stepped onto icy gravel, and orange leaves freshly fallen from the trees lining the side of the bridge.

My hands slid in my pockets in an attempt to fight the cold, and I stared out at the busy road.

I always broke whatever was fragile in my hands. So much that as a kid, my mother would tell me to stay away from the glass vases. But fragile always felt good.