On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Forty-Two - "Purgatory"

Sarah

I stared at the tears running down his face, and I sat holding onto my chair, as I sat with my jaw leaning on the back.

“Please,” he begged for the hundredth time.

I stared down at the pool of blood around his feet. He raised his eyes to meet mine, and I reveled in the scarring on his face and the endless bleeding.

With a sigh, I stared at the drill I’d just used against his thighs.

“I went to the trouble of getting all these things. I’m going to have to use them all. It all depends on timing really,” I murmured.

I searched for the sympathy, I searched for the guilt, and for the self-doubt. To no avail. I was a half empty vessel filled with anger and vengeance and the words of my eighteen-year old daughter.

Robert raped me.

“Why would you ever lay a finger on her?” I asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he choked, his voice echoing through the empty building.

“Oh, you’re sorry. That makes it all okay,” I replied sarcastically, “You took her and you broke her and you think sorry makes it all okay?”

“Please,” he wept, “I didn’t know. I didn’t . . . Please.”

I stood up slowly, running the barrel of my gun between my palms. “What do you want me to do?” I asked, walking over to my heating rods.

“Please let me go. I’ll go to prison. I’ll . . . I’m sorry.”

He was very literally bawling. I wanted to let out a laugh; I really did. But I was still so angry, it wouldn’t come.

I picked up the rods by their warm ends and walked back over to him.

He tried to back away, but he was stuck.

“I can’t let you go.”

“P-p-please . . . I-p-please,” he choked.

I stared at him.

Sympathy, where art though?

Morality?

“Okay.”

His shaking shoulders froze and he looked up, his eyes wide with terror, “Y-you’re letting me go?”

“Yeah, sure. But I’m not done yet.”

“W-what?” his voice shook.

I felt my lips quirk up in a malevolent smile, “There’s a couple things I’ve still got to do,” I said, and planted the hot rods right in-between his thighs, taking the rest of my duct tape and taping his thighs together, hot rods and all, allowing his loud, wailing screams to fill my ears.