I held him against the wall and jammed my fist into his face until one of his eyes swelled shut. His nose is probably broken and he keeps bleeding all over the carpet like a pig.
Then when he fell, screaming at me to spare him, I kicked him some more. When he begged and told me he wouldn’t peep on little girls anymore, I pressed on his chest with my boots until I heard the pop of his ribs breaking.
He’s out now. Boring fuck.
“Come on.” I crouch beside him. “Fight me, motherfucker.”
He coughs, gurgling on blood. Both his eyes are now closed, one of them swollen and purple.
I clasp his shirt in my fingers and lift him up off the ground. His blond hair streaked with white strands is half soaked in red.
“You dare touch her.” My voice is on the verge of blowing up. “You fucking dare come down her throat.”
He murmurs, trying to say something, but it only comes out as unintelligible sounds.
I shake him, making his head loll in an awkward position as if about to snap. When he speaks again, I lean closer to his blood-soaked face, all swollen and unrecognizable.
“S-she…she…b-begged for…my cock.”
I freeze, and for a second, I think I’m going to turn to ice and break.
I don’t.
A deep, black rage envelops me in its clutches like a vice. I rise to my feet, my muscles clenching so tight as if about to fucking crack.
I kick him in the groin until he wheezes in pain. “This cock?”
He groans and spasms on the floor, but I don’t stop. I keep kicking him over and over again until I’m sure I’ve turned him impotent.
It’s a mistake such a sick fucker like him has a working dick anyway.
Once he’s no longer moving, I leave his suburban house that he got by teaching kids and getting into their pants.
After making sure no one sees me, I slip out the back entrance and through the bushes where I hid my car.
For a second, I stand there, panting. My hands are smeared in blood, and my shoes are too. I can barely breathe with the ski mask on.
This is what she turned me into.
A fucking criminal with no regrets whatsoever.
She pulled me by the gut years ago and since refused to let me go.
I retrieve my phone and dial the person who’ll take care of this whole mess.
“Alexander Carson speaking.”
Only my father would answer his son’s call by stating his full name.
“Asher Gray Carson speaking.” I can’t help the sarcasm.
He sighs. “What is it, Asher? I’m busy.”
“You’ll get busier then.”
“What did you do now? Hit another student for looking at Reina?” He sighs again. “I’m tired of your antics with your classmates. I can’t keep paying off those kids’ parents every time.”
“Sure you can. That’s your role, isn’t it? Paying for things.”