Does It Hurt? (106)
It’s an empty, cracked shell where a soul has been born and where that soul will die.
I no longer want to be that shell. I don’t want to just survive anymore—I want to live. And I won’t waste away, spending my days as a hollow being that awaits death like an old dog sitting on a doorstep, waiting for the day someone opens the door and invites him inside to stay.
So, I do the only thing I can think to do. I kick Sylvester right in the dick. A puff of air bursts from his throat, followed by a resounding shout of pain. Assuming Kacey is too stunned to react, I bolt toward the kitchen, screaming Enzo’s name and nearly tripping over the rug beneath the broken bits of the dining room table.
He can’t be far. I’m positive Sylvester wouldn’t have had time to hurt him and hide him outside somewhere, so he must still be in the lighthouse.
“Enzo!” I scream, hoping to God he’ll answer. But he doesn’t.
Sylvester shouts something at Kacey, but I’m already gunning for the knives in the kitchen. Ripping open the drawer, I quickly grab a knife, slicing my hand on another in the process. The pain hardly registers, especially when a rotten-mouthed girl calmly walks toward me, her chin tipped low and a wicked glare spearing me from beneath her brows.
I hold out the knife, my hand trembling violently. The adrenaline is oversaturating my system, and I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on a definitive plan.
“Enzo!” I scream again. Desperately, I sweep my gaze across the room, confused about where the hell he could be. There’s no way Sylvester could overpower Enzo. Which means he had to have taken him by surprise somehow.
Kacey closes in, and I turn my attention back to her.
“Don’t come closer, Kacey. I told you we would help you. You don’t owe loyalty to the person who has abused and tortured you.”
She pauses, staring at me with an emotion I’m too frantic to place.
“Get ’er!” Sylvester shouts, his face purple with pain and fury, while he struggles to get back to his feet with his wooden leg. Curses are spilling from his lips, spit flying and sticking to his beard, but Kacey isn’t listening.
“Kacey, please,” I beg, voice hoarse. “He’s kept you trapped here and hurt you in many ways. He doesn’t love you; he just wants to possess you.”
Her eyes become glassy, but Sylvester is back on his feet and charging toward her, his wooden peg against the floor echoing with his wrath.
“Useless fuckin’—” he cuts himself off and fists her hair, whipping her behind him and tossing her to the ground. She lands with a thump, but he’s already on his warpath toward me.
Admittedly, I freeze for a moment. The terror is a parasite, injecting its venom directly into my bloodstream and paralyzing my muscles.
But the moment his fist cocks back, rage contorting his face, it’s like time slows. My body unlocks, and I move on instinct, ducking below his punch and straightening just as he closes in. He grabs my throat, squeezing tightly, but my hand is already pressed firmly into his stomach, blood spurting, and I loosen my grip on the knife handle.
He pauses, eyes widening while he looks down. The entirety of the metal is plunged into his stomach, and the slick, hot feeling of his blood coating my hands has vomit threatening to spew from my mouth.
It feels so familiar. Just like when I had sunk that knife in Kev’s throat, red bubbling from the wounds and covering my hand and face in it.
I never wanted to take a life. Yet, here I am, claiming another.
He snarls and grabs ahold of my wrist, squeezing it until it cracks. I cry out, releasing the handle instinctively.
“That was just stupid of ya,” he growls, his face twisted with both pain and fury.
Before I can react further, his fist is flying toward me again. This time, I’m too slow to react, and the only thing I recall is a burst of pain, then darkness.
Chapter 33
Enzo
My head is splitting into fucking pieces, and something smells putrid. I groan, gritting my teeth as sharp pain pierces behind my eyes.
Mother… fucker.
I’m having trouble remembering where the fuck I am, and what the hell happened beyond the throbbing in my skull.
Slowly, fragments filter in. Finding the beacon and then the radio. Kacey appearing, her mouth sewn shut. Sylvester breaking in, and then leaving Sawyer and Kacey upstairs. I remember opening the bookshelf door with my shotgun readied but finding no one. The only difference was the cellar door was open again.
I remember approaching the cellar cautiously and then the creak of the front door right before a shot went off behind me. My recollection is choppy from there, but I recall the bullet hitting the barrel of my gun, forcing it out of my grip. Then Sylvester storming up behind me while I scrambled for the gun again, another shot going off by my hand and destroying the weapon completely. Finally, the butt of his shotgun aiming straight for my face. And then… nothing.
Cazzo.
The rise of fury is enough to force my eyes open and get my body moving. It’s nearly pitch black, hot, and it smells dank and like… like something is decomposing.
Glancing up, I can see tiny cracks of light between the floorboards and Sylvester’s shadow as he walks through the kitchen slowly, his leg rebounding through the wood, causing dust to fall over me.
There’s a string of unintelligible words from what sounds like Sylvester. I’ve no idea if Sawyer is with him or not, but it’s enough to inject another strong dose of adrenaline into my veins.