Rosie's Thorns 🥀|18+|🥀

52 | Rage

⚠️ Mention of SA and SH ⚠️

Nameless ~ Stevie Howie

《¤Dominic¤》

The soothing smoke coated my lungs as I attempted to reign in the emotions rising to the surface. My insides felt jittery as I stood on the front porch with a blunt between my fingers. After pulling a few strings, I was able to get the location to the yellow house in the middle of nowhere. Abandoned since Rosie's escape, it looked as if everyone up and left without a moments notice.

Personal items were left behind, ranging from clothing to food in the refrigerator. But those little details hadn't peaked my interest. What had? Five rooms and all were turned over as if someone was throwing a tantrum. It was notable. Especially the bloody shoe prints staggering throughout the house. Sloppy and scuffled.

I took another drag as my eyes scoped the area. The officers had combed the woods for Rizzo.

That means the fucker is still alive and on the run.

My hand trembled as I brought the blunt to my lips. It's eerily quiet. Even the wildlife could sense the dread radiating from the residence. The moment I pulled onto the driveway an unspoken evil blanketed the earth.

My stomach turns and my mouth waters as I glance towards the rental car still idling in the driveway. I'd seen the bedroom. There wasn't a doubt in my mind whether or not it was the same room he kept her restrained in. The bloody handcuffs matched the bruises and scabs on her thin wrists. The torture devices within one of the dressers made bile rise up my throat. The things he had done to her...

My throat tightens. She has yet to tell anyone what had happened in this house of horrors. But even without telling us, her body told its own story. It took everything in me not to break in front of her when I kneeled at her feet. The water running down her bruised and battered body was heartbreaking as she sat in that tiny shower shaking. The bruises and scabs covering her body painted a picture. It was a gruesome and horrifying story. One that I knew all to well...

The ticks. Tiny impulsive scratches and the slight jerk of her head as if something repulsed her. Whether she noticed or not, her body always trembled and her eyes constantly flitted around her searching for danger. Then there was her fears. The fear of being in any type of bed and the fear of men. She insisted on that uncomfortable sofa and only freaked out when men were near her.

Rizzo destroyed her. The confident woman that had blossomed before me, was now in tatters holding on by a thin thread. And all I could do was watch. She won't let me near her without triggering a panic attack. The closest I've been to her since her mental break down was that little wooden chair in her room. There's nothing I can do. I have to sit there and watch the woman I love deteriorate before my eyes and I can't do anything about it.

I put the blunt to my lips once more and take a harder drag.

We will kill him.

I pinch my lips together as smoke swirls from my nostrils. When I find Rizzo, I will drag out his death until he begs for mercy. But not even then will I end him. I'll shave off parts of him and carve away at his vile body until he's nothing but a bloody lump of flesh and bone. I'll leave his eyes and ears. I want him to see what I do to him. And I want him to hear what it sounds like to have his body chopped up into little pieces. It will be dragged out for days. I will cauterize his wounds just to make sure he doesn't bleed out, then begin again.

It's not enough.

It's not. I agree with him.

We have plenty of time to plot until we find that bastard. I know how gory Mío gets, I can only imagine our combined rage.