"I don't understand. Why are we here? Who are hell you?" A petite blonde says, struggling in her binds. Next to her is her father and brother, I'm assuming. I've lost track of this unfortunate family tree. And I'm losing patience. I rub my temples in frustration. The older man, the father, glares daggers at me and the son remains idle. He doesn't miss a thing. I put my focus on him, because now I'm Intrigued. Reading people and figuring them out is just one of my many qualities I possess. The young man can hide all he wants under his skin, but I can see right through him. When he realizes I have now zeroed my entire focus on him like a laser beam, he shifts uncomfortably against his seat. It doesn't take much, and it doesn't take long before someone as hard as him cracks under the spell I throw.
"Wait, I know you. You're..." The older man starts. I put my hand out for him to stop talking, and he shuts his mouth immediately.
"Let's skip the formalities, shall we? Where's the rest of your family, Jerry? How many of you are out there?" I ask, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. The gesture intimidates the daughter as she pushes her body back against the chair—not that she has anywhere to go. I divert my focus on her, and lean towards her.
"Uncomfortable?" I taunt her, smirking as her eyes go wide upon a dark realization. She's a pretty one—one I don't want to mar so easily.
"Who are you?" She asks, her voice quivering. I sit back, comfortably.
"Who are you to Catherine?" I hit back, bouncing my foot over my knee.
"How do you know her? And where is she?" She demands.
"And why should I tell you where she is?"
"You have her, don't you?" The younger one says. My jaw twitches.
"I do, Timothy." My palms itch to do harm at his smirking little face, but refrain from doing so. Not yet.
"Don't you have anything better to do than kidnap and assault us?" Little Tim quips.
"Trust me, little one, I'd rather be doing a lot right now than wasting my time on you. Perhaps, like...doing someone?" I smile. Jerry goes berserk against his seat, and it brings me great joy. The blonde looks at me in shock.
"Bring her to us, Mr. Dean. We know what you are capable of. We know you're strong, and we know your power. We mean no harm to you. But we want her." I react faster than his next breath. In one quick stride, my hand is around his throat and I push his head back so hard, he chokes under my touch. It leaves everyone else around me stunned.
"It'll take me two seconds to end your pathetic life, Jerry, and everyone else around you," I threaten.
"And what good will that do? You can't kill us all. Catherine is means of pawn to us, that's all. She has what we want, what we deserve. She's of age now to give us everything that belongs to us," he croaks. I squeeze harder. The power to end his life lies in my hands, but I'm forced to hold back. Patience runs thin.
"Her parents took everything from us. We want it back," The girl cries. I cock my head at her, a laughter suddenly bubbling in my throat. I release Jerry, and sit back, looking back at the girl once again.
"Papers over blood? You'd stoop so low to torture her for monetary value?" I growl.
"It's ours," she defends herself. This time my hand reaches out for her throat, but I don't squeeze. Her resemblance to Catherine is uncanny, but she is nothing compared to her. Whereas Catherine is sweet like lilac, she is bitter like the thorns on a withering rose. Still, she holds a certain kind of innocence that I once saw in Catherine. The girl is young...nothing older than eighteen, maybe.
"There's nothing more I want to do than squeeze the ever living shit out of you, you know that, love? But you remind me of someone." I release her throat. When I really look at her trembling form, something catches my eye that pushes me off guard. I gaze down at her stomach.
"Don't hurt her. She's pregnant," Timothy says, confirming my suspicion. I look at her, my jaw twitching.
"You know what the problem is, Timothy?" I stand, circling him, and placing both my hands on his shoulders once I get behind him. He flinches from my touch. "Everyone wants to protect somebody. But when somebody that really wants and needs protection is harmed...things go out of balance and control falls out of hand. Here, you want to protect your daughter. There, you want to harm Catherine? Things are very quickly falling out of control now." My hands dig deeper into his shoulders.
"Catherine is not my daughter."
"That's why you want eradicate her out of this life?" I lower my head and my voice until I'm next to his ear.
"She's of no use to me if she can't give us what is rightfully ours."
"Why are you protecting Marguerite?" I ask him, grabbing a cloth from next to me. Jerry notices my move, and audibly gulps.
"Because she's my daughter, Reece," he says, matter of factly. I chuckle behind him.
"And you know why I'm protecting Catherine?" I muse, digging the cloth into Timothy's mouth before securely tying it behind the back of his neck. She grunts through his muffled mouth, and shakes in his seat to dislodge himself from the chair. I come back around to sit and face them again.
"Leave my father alone!" Marg screams.
"Why?" Jerry asks, ignoring his daughter. He's delirious with fear. I can see it in his eyes, but he tries so hard to hide it. Nothing gets past me.
"Because she's the mother of my future children. She's my wife." I throw one leg over the other, and watch realization dawn into all of their eyes.
"You married that whore?" He spits at me in disgust. I close my eyes, and lean my head back in bewilderment. I take a moment to focus on my breath to calm my nerves from exploding; however, I've lost control now. The term, "whore", doesn't suit Catherine. It's the wrong word. I push forward, grab the nearest tool next to me, and jab it right into his secured hand flat on the chair. The crunch of bone is music to my ears. At first, shock paralyzes Jerry. When reality of the situation starts to settle, and pain registers...the man screams.
"You know what happens when one starts to lose control, Jerry?" I ask, grabbing another sharp tool. I jab it right into his other hand. "There's no going back."
"Stop! STOP!" Marg screams.
"Strong words have strong consequences, Marg. If I were you, I'd close my eyes and avoid this scene."
"You're going to kill him," she cries. I start grabbing tools. The boys behind me howl in excitement. I've lost patience, time, and the wits to be nice now.
"I've got somewhere I need to be, Marg. Catherine will wake up soon. Do you want me to make this quick or drag it out?" I ask her, giving Jerry time to feel pain one hand at a time. His screams only make my flames of my own fire wilder inside of me. Adrenaline courses through my veins like fuel.
"You don't have to do this. Please. Please, don't kill us."
"When Catherine begged you to tell the truth fifteen years ago, did you? Who stole cash from your own mother?" I ask, chuckling. I'm delirious now. Her eyes widen like little saucers, and she starts to quiver.
"How...how do you know about that?"
"I know everything. You should know that by now." Before I could plunge the pliers straight into her father's eyes, her little voice stops me.
"I did it. All these years, I put her in the way of torture and humiliation because I envied her. And also because she was always so loved by everybody, and I didn't like that. She always got the boys following her, and she was always the popular one in school. No one ever looked at me. And her mother...her mother was loved too. It made my own mom feel left out. They just had everything we deserved." She looks at her father—whose eyes are half mast now. Blood pools down the chair.
"You let your own father and brother sexually assault her?" I ask, pointing a hunter's knife at both of them.
"I just wanted her tainted," she whispers. The urge to slice through her one inch at a time weighs heavily on me.
"You know how disgusting you sound right now, marg?" I growl at her. Then an idea grows on me, far more potent, wild, and exhilarating all at the same time. I stalk towards her.
"Leave her alone, Reece!" Timothy yells, pulling against his binds. I ignore him. Someone from behind him clamps his hand over his mouth to silence him. Hunching down to my knees, I pull her chin up and force her to look at me. God, her eyes. They're pitiful.
"Did you watch?" I ask her, gently. Her lips quicker, but she doesn't speak. I give another minute or so to answer me, and when she still doesn't, I strike her across the face. Hard. She screams, and cries. She's lucky I didn't break her jaw or teeth.
"Shh. Hush." I grab her face, and bring her focus back to me.
"Please..."
"Did you watch your folks touch her, Marg?"
"No..."
"Lying won't help. It's the least you can do for your folks. Tell the truth, and I'll spare your child." Both of us look down at her stomach. She gulps visibly, and big, fat tears slide down her cheeks. I hide the urge to smile because I know I got her right where I needed.
"It's not like...like...I enjoyed watching her getting...touched." She neither directly admits it or denies it, because those words were exactly what I needed to confirm my allegation. Jealousy can cause a person to do many cruel things, unimaginable, and this woman in front of me was an empirical proof of just that. I pull back, and smirk.
"Let's set an example here, shall we?" I say. She looks up at me.
"What...what do you mean?" She cries. I pick up a knife, and point it towards her.
"Roles reversed. The player is going to get played today. And here I thought the game couldn't get any better."
"Please..."
"You will have plenty of time to beg."
"I don't understand."
"Hey, boys!" I yell across the room. "Wanna have some fun?" I smile. Loud cheers echo throughout the room.
"Fun? What fun?" Marg cries louder.
"Yes, boss," they all say in unison.
"She lives, and so does the child. I want her torture dragged out. And her folks", — I point at Jerry, and Timothy — "They watch."
"