"I only love the dark because it understands me..."
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Ivy's POV
He was merciless.
Brutal.
Harsh.
And annoying.
When you call Claude - or preferably any King - to come help drill answers out of a person, then things are bound to get a little bit too messy, no matter how hard they try to keep things tidy.
I scowl when another scream bounces across the room and lift my eyes from the hard math question I'd been working on solving for the past hour. Kent had managed to leave me some work after our heated session on Sunday. Stuff I'm supposed to have learnt but haven't because of my one week absence from school. He'd given me over five pages to go research and study all by myself. I've done all I can to postpone doing it, but I'd immediately given up when I realized I needed a great distraction from the sight before.
There was blood all over their bodies. The twins, I mean. They hang by chains tied to their wrists that were somehow linked to the ceiling. Their toes merely brushed the ground floor and their arms carried the body weight with strained force, managing to stretch to their limits. They were also hurt, bad.
So many nasty gashes bled from their bodies. Like Passion of Christ all over again.
Their shirts had been discarded and torn to pieces, their jeans fell beneath their feet, collecting little of the blood that managed to drip down. The carrot hair failed to hide their mentally exhausted expressions, the way their dry patchy lips parted to heave out ragged breathes and choke out blood, how their dull eyes heavily shut momentarily and fluttered open with pain. They were going through hell.
A hell which I'd refused to give them mainly because I was in no mood for torturing. I wanted to kill. Watch life drain out of someone's eyes. Sink a blade into their hearts. I couldn't do that though because I knew well that that's what my insanity wanted. That's what the demons want me to do and I couldn't let them drive me. I can't let them take over.
At least not now.
I rub my temples when another anguished scream ricochets throughout the room, giving the voices in my head another wave of commotion before dying down as well. I raise eyes with mild anger.
"Would you boys keep it down? I'm trying to do my homework."
Claude's mouth is filled as he takes a bite of the sandwich in his loaded hands, looking at me with fake innocent eyes. "I'm not doing anything."
Brenda screams again, groaning. I blink as I notice the open small bag of salt tied above his head and wrapped around his wrists. Each time he even so much as moves slightly, multiple miniscule white pieces sprinkle down, sinking into his bleeding red flesh.
"Well do something to shut him up." I glare. "I'm need to concentrate."
"Sure, princess." He pulls out a dripping wet cloth, one that's soaked with chili sauce and ties it around the man's mouth, letting the extreme burning of the taste sink into his lips. Brenda groans in pain once more, coughing and choking on the acidic taste, but the sound dissolves into the cloth. Claude turns back to me with a raised eye brow.
"Happy now?"
"Very." I grumble, returning to my work.
Yet thirty more minutes later, undisturbed with only muffled screams filling the room, I still find it entirely difficult to understand the work laid out before me without my tutor around to explain. I scratch my hair in frustration. If this stuff doesn't pay off in the future then I swear I'll commit suicide.
I pull out my phone just as Claude picks up a small can of black paint, peeling it open. My fingers tap lightly against the screen until I see that the phone is dialing. I wasn't sure why I had to call him, but I guess it made sense that I wouldn't be able to complete this work without his help.
The call is answered by nearly the tenth ring.
"Hello?"
I stiffen, placing my head down against the table. "Kent."
He must not have checked the ID caller name because he sounded surprised. "Ivy?"
"Talking."
"What-- Why are you calling me?"
Claude's blue eyes draw towards me for a split second, his lips tilt up as he returns to his work. I sigh. " This work." I start. "What the hell is this?"
A crackle as he shifts from his aide of the line. "That work I gave you is just the basics to last week's lesson ; Parallel lines."
I tap the pencil against my cheek, constantly flipping through the pages. "I know. But I don't understand much of it. Like--" I squint at a particular question. "This one. Find the equation of a line that is parallel to the line 2y + x = 3 and passes through the point (2, 3)."
I cringe. "What the fuck?"
Kent hums. "You just have to use the formula y = mx + c. It's pretty easy, really--"
"I'm not the one saying that though, am I?" The sound of Brenda's muffled screams reach me. "Which means I don't find this pretty easy, Carter."
There's a silence on his side that tells me he's thinking of a possible way to solve this. My eyes watch as Claude dips a paint brush into the dark paint, pulling it out and drawing a black bull's eye on Steve's chest, right above the poor guy's heart. He takes a step back, drawing out s gun from the table beside him but then pauses and frowns, coming to the realization of how the weapon could cause unnecessary noise. He instead opts for his butter knife.
"Um, okay then." Kent drawls out nervously. "I guess you'll have to wait till Saturday when I come to tutor you. Is that okay?"
I shut the books instantly, internally celebrating that I didn't have to do more of the work.
"I'm open to the idea."
"Oh--" he adds "--shall you come to school or will I have to come over to your house again?"
I click the pen. "My place."
"Right!" He awkwardly clears his throat just as Claude takes a step back and squints his eyes, feigning to target the black spot. The knife flies through the air and intentionally misses, sinking into Steve's thigh with a gut wrenching sound of meat tearing.
Scream.
"What was that?" Kent immediately piques, voice high. "What's going on?"
"I'm watching a horror movie." I simply lie, listening as sobs escape the man. His brother is too absorbed in his own pain to comprehend where the sound comes from. "That's all."
"Oh."
"Can I hang up now?"
"Umm. Yeah, I guess." He chuckles with plain amusement. "But Ivy?"
I pause. "Hmm."
He hesitates a little, considering if he really has the position to tell me what to do. "Maybe next time...don't do the work while watching. It can really be a distraction...?"
I laugh lamely as well. "Sure."
I hang up seconds later, a ridiculous curve to my lips.
"Please." Brandon breathes heavily, finally speaking. He croaks. "Please."
Claude doesn't seem to hear because he leisurely takes a step back, squaring his broad muscular shoulders and tilting his wrist as he tosses another short blade into Steve, purposely letting it slide slightly into the man's flat stomach. He frowns, letting a handsome scowl etch unto his face as he pretends not to be impressed by his own work. He turns to retrieve another item. I scowl at the shiny weapon which I remember putting away over ten months back.
"Did you check my shuriken collection again?"
He pauses awkwardly, not so stealthily slipping the thing into his pockets with a somewhat fake guilty expression. "What's that? Is it like, a new brand of tampons?"
"I'll fucking kill you, King."
He sighs, giving up. "Come on. Let me just play with them for a tiny weeny second. I lost all mine in California. Apparently this shit is illegal there. I swear I'll buy you some more."
My nose scrunches and I fold my arms. "Make sure you get the blood off when your done."
He smiles. "Thanks, princess."
I sweep the books off the table and stand up, catching from the corner of my eye as a star shaped item flies across the room, 'accidentally' sinking into Brenda instead of Steve. I snort, rounding the table so that I sat atop it.
"They'll bleed to death." I lazily inform him, brushing the dirt that somehow collected beneath my fingers with a frown.
Claude flips the wickedly sharp object and runs a bloodied hand over his hair. Making the black tendrils slick with blood. "That's kinda the whole idea."
He thrusts it again, letting it's razor edge scrape the cartilage of Steve's ear as it hits against the wall behind both men. Steve whimpers and blood trails down his neck.
"Unless they're willing to do something about it." Claude adds.
Almost immediately, a single word escapes Brenda's lips, his head held down limply. Raggedy, breathy and heavy.
"Fox."
Claude moves closer to the hairless twin, roughly ripping out the butter knife, the muscles of his arms ripple as the disgusting sound of meat tearing reaches my ears. I cross my legs wondering when Claude had taken off the cloth from Brenda's lips.
"What?"
His scrawny body moves, as though being controlled by an invisible mild breeze, he lets out a deep breathe with as much energy as he can, hissing when the salt peppers all over his wounds once more.
"Fox. He...he sent us."
Claude tilts his head, gripping out a shuriken from the boy. Steve groans in anguish. "Fox? The squinty eyed dweeb?"
"I..." Brenda tries to continue.
"Who's Fox?" I ask, my forehead lining a frown.
Brenda's eyes blandly turn to me as he explains. "He's dangerous." The man immediately warns with a fearful hollow to his eyes. "He's... a murderer."
I smile, darkness curling my lips. "Aren't we all?"
He does something that seems like the shake of his head but pauses when he realizes it might trigger the bag above his body.
"He's cunning...and despicable. And he wants you...dead."
I roll my tongue. "Many do, Brenda."
Claude pinches the bridge of his nose in exhausted frustration, accidentally smearing blood on his strong hard jaw. "Just wait. Pause. Hold on a second there. Back up." He raises his lazy eyes to the man. "Just so we're clear - are you talking about the asian douche who carries that ridiculous katana around and dresses up like a fucking ninja all the damn time?"
"Yes."
"Jesus Christ." He face palms like a teenager who just received more homework, holding his hip in exasperated annoyance. "I hate that guy."
My lips crop down. "Fill me in."
He harshly grips another weapon from the man's body, explaining easily. "Forty years old. Born in Wuyuan, China. Moved to the U.S ten years back. Single. Stupid. Sinner. Owns an assassinating gang that's gotten real popular with the big guys. Two casinos that are currently on high competition with mine. A hotel in Los Angeles where he spends most of his time. Has an absurd obsession with Spanish or American women. Blondes in particular. Oh he's also a huge racist."
Claude tosses all the bloodied objects on the table and turns to me. "He has a kill list. As long as you bring him money and the name of the person he's on the job. Doesn't matter who he kills. Teens. Pregnant women. Children...Bishops."
"He sounds fun." I dryly say, leaning back. "Why the grudge?"
"He may not make it known but I have my name put on his damn list. Since I'm kinda a big shot with big connections--" The overgrown intentionally shines in his eyes "-- he's taking his time to do the job. Always low-key trying to kill me."
I tap my shoulders. I'd never heard of the man, even with my considerate three years that I'd been working with Claude. I sigh. "Why is he on my tail?"
A twisted smiles crawls up Brenda's lips. "Your next, Bathory."
My eyelids half shut mildly, I roll my eyes, standing to leave. "Humor me."
"You better watch your back." Steve suddenly says, speaking up. Our eyes turn to his meek frame. "If you're on the list. Then you're dead meat. There's no escaping. The whole world will be over your shoulders, stalking. You can't hide. You can't run. And you won't survive."
Claude nonchalantly swings a hammer between his fingers. "I'm a living objection the very shit you're saying, carrots."
...you won't survive...
...you won't survive...
...you can't hide...
...you can't run...
...there's no escape...
...you're in hell with daddy, my girl...
...and you won't survive...
I scowl, teeth grinding harshly against each other. The notion that I was weak rang with everything he said. I was weak. I was just a flimsy girl who'd fallen trap into the cruelty of the world, that's what he thought. He thought I was so broken that I couldn't bring myself back together. Just another one of his bags of money waiting to be handed over.
I wasn't. I wasn't a girl who'd become prey of the world's savagery. I wasn't weak. And I another monster carved from the darkness I'd gone through. One that drowned in her own despair but still managed to tumble over the overflowing pain with her own demons. Her own beasts. Her weakness becoming her very strength.
Claude steps past me when he notices my approaching figure. He smiles a little. "I'll be upstairs."
I don't return the action, instead stopping by the table he'd been standing at and studying the delicate items splayed all over. My finger trails the edge of the table, collecting dust. When the sound of the door shutting reaches my ears, I gently pick up a machete that has been put into place.
...his fingers are pretty cute...
...have you cut off someone's lips...
...that's a heart, Ivy. I said the liver...
"Tell me." I shortly say under my breathe, fighting the sounds that begin to speak into my mind.
"Are you scared of me?"
They remain quiet for awhile, sulking painfully in the loud silence. I study the long thin slender metal at my hands and add ; "For the few moments we heard to each other before King interrupted us." My back remains turned to them. "Did I in any way frighten you?"
Salt tumbles down open flesh, stinging the wounds. "No. You're not as scary as him."
I smile slowly, picking up the fork that had been left and placing the machete down. I wrap another small pocket knife into my palm and turn to look at them. I chuckle.
"I know. He can be a bit too much of a torturer when he wants to."
Their eyes slide up to look at me when I begin stalking closer. "It's pretty fun to watch him do this." I wave one finger slowly around their bodies. "Honestly he kinda gets hot when he's at it. Turns me on."
My nail traces the edges of one bleeding gash that'd been made across Brenda's chest. Flesh peeled off bone, red glistened under dim lights. Human Meat. My mind twirled and rumbled, and I immediately sank my finger into the wound, pressing in with silent rage and letting him writhe with pain. He yelped and shook roughly, his eyes compressed in torment. The huge bag of salt slowly quivered threateningly, moving with each tremor of anguish that shot into his body, before it gravely fell on his head, all it's contents pouring out. I watched as the white particles heavily coated him, absorbing the red liquid that drenched him instantly. The white crystals turned ruby.
He screams, tears falling across his cheek.
I flip the pocket knife, presenting it's blade as I withdraw from him. "But he gets a little too messy for my liking. I mean, how am I supposed to clean all this up?"
...hello...
....grab this...
...it hurts...
...do it!
I slowly move away, instead going to stand behind Steve. My finger trails his back, digging into the untouched soft skin. The exposed pale skin. The cold metal glides across it, not doing a thing to harm him.
"He used to scare me." I admit, thinking to the first time I met Claude. Unbelievably drunk, but managing to fight all the six men that had attacked him. He murdered them right in front of me, carelessly dropping their bodies when he was done.
In the moment I'd been trying to heal from my trauma, I was half good and a little still messed up. He'd reminded me of my dad in that very instant and I'd tried to run away, I did all I could to get far from him. But he'd caught me before I got two blocks down the road and we'd had a ridiculously absurd fight in which I tried to rip his head off.
..."What the hell?!" He yelled angrily, snatching my arm and immediately pinning it behind my back. My cheek met the cold dirty ground and his knee dug into my back. "Would you calm down? Jeez I'm not gonna hurt you!"
"Let me go!" My small voice shouted. He dragged me up, my arms cuffed with...his belt?
My feet dangled in the air as he squinted at me through his blurry haze. "What the fuck is a kid like you doing in these parts?"
I lift my legs, clamping them around his neck and tightening their hold over him, choking. He lets go of my cloth, trying to loosen me. I grip even harder, his crotch digging into my lower back as I glare up at him. He takes a firm grab of my hips when I don't release him, and immediately swings my body left, hitting it against the hard brick wall.
I groan, my head smacking against the wall with a loud thud. Pain shots across my skull, a numb ringing blares in my ears, unable to manage the pain, my body goes numb and I almost fall. He simply catches me with one hand, rubbing his throat with the other and staring at me with a smile in his eyes. The toxic smell of alcohol hits my nose.
He chuckles, amused. "Feisty little princess, aren't you?..."
The tip of the blade sinks into skin, making slow deliberately careful cuts. Steve tenses. Blood spills gently, sliding down his back.
"My dad taught me how to write letters." I smile at the sight, continuing to drag the metal across his back. "I don't mean the sit, get a Disney pencils with pictures of Cinderella and begin pouring out your heart in a cute pink paper--"
He groans.
"--but he did show me how to write on the human body without completely tearing the skin apart."
I press the cut in even deeper, squinting at what I embed on his skin. "It hard to say the least, especially when I just want to shove this knife into your back. But with a few more trainings and trials you get the hang of it."
...No. No. Go slow and the letter D curve doesn't need to be necessarily complete, or the small a. Be careful with the w it's supposed to be sharp...
"What are you doing?" Brenda asks, heaving for breath. "Stop that."
"Don't worry--" I murmur "--almost done."
I mildly places two kisses at the end, stepping back to admire my work. My letters were small, tiny, but noticeable and readable for someone at a two feet distance. My lips pucker as I read out.
"Dear Foxie,
I'm currently not in a good mood and I've been dreaming of ripping human beings apart.
It's not really an appropriate time to be a meaningless threat on my life. Perhaps you can postpone this dramatic scheme of yours?
We could pick up another time. When I'm done with the important dangerous people trying to escape me.
Until then.
Your hold,
The Bathory girl. xx"
I smile. "I'm ambivalent about my words. But I hope your papa understands this though."
"You're dead." Brenda grumbles.
I shrug. "Yeah okay."
Slowly, I unshackle their wrists, letting their bodies fall unto the flow with painful sounds escaping their lips. Crimson liquid splutters everywhere. Footsteps fills the room as the door is opened. Claude struts in with a deep frown to his forehead as he stares down at some cards in his hand and whit towel hang over his naked shoulder. He pauses and lifts it.
"Princess?"
I drop the knife, lifting a brow when I notice how his eyes have suddenly turned pools of a dark deathly emotion. He shakes the card, drawing my attention to the black papers. A burden and odd heaviness drags his expression down.
"You just received some interesting mail."
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