He disappears momentarily into what’s left of the door, the rotting wood hanging off the hinges, only re-emerging seconds later with a tiny brunette being dragged out behind him, his hands tangled in her hair.
Her screams are piercing, more than likely waking every other animal that takes refuge in these mountains. I growl, the sound slowly bubbling out of me. It’s a snarl that forms deep in my gut. I watch her as she struggles to get herself loose from his grip, her hands clawing and scraping against the flesh of his hands and arms. Each time she seems to hurt him, he hollers out and rattles her by shaking her head.
He’s a dead man.
I’m hesitant to leave her, but I know I don’t stand a chance against the asshole with the rifle. He’ll shoot me right between the eyes and not even hesitate. As a panther, I’m defenseless against this piece of shit, but as a human, I’ll pull his head off his shoulders and ram it right up his own ass; that’s after I rip his arms off and knock him the fuck out.
The only choice I have now is to turn around, head back to the little white brick house I found hidden in the woods, and shift back to my human form. It’s the only way I can save her. I turn back quickly, at a dead sprint, running the way I came.
58
Maximus “Max”
I’m jolted awake early the next morning by the sound of snapping branches, loud popping noises, and crunching leaves. I’m pretty sure the sun has not risen yet, but the asshole just couldn’t wait to hunt me down.
Shit!
How the hell did he find me so fast?
I close my eyes, praying he doesn’t find me hiding here in the dark, but the footsteps and breaking branches only gets louder with each step taken. He taps against the rotting wood, pushing the door open with the tip of his rifle.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sing-songs as he steps through the open hole where the door hangs off the hinges. “I know you’re in here, I can smell your fear.”
That’s probably your own ass, I think to myself.
“There you are,” he mutters, reaching for me. He pulls me from my curled-up position and drags me out the door by my hair, forcing me back into the cold.
I grab onto his wrists, the sting of his fist in my hair sends pain through my scalp. I claw and scratch at his skin, but each time I hurt him, he shakes me by my scalp only further enhancing the searing pain rocketing through my head.
I want this to be over.
I open my mouth, letting loose a blood-curdling scream that I’m pretty sure has woken the next county.
“Shut up!”
I let out another scream.
“I’ll duct tape your mouth shut,” he threatens.
“Bite me, you piece of shit.”
He laughs at my feeble attempt to scare him but says nothing.
“I can’t wait until someone kills you, you asshole. I so hope I’m here to see them rip you apart piece by pathetic piece.”
“You won’t last that long,” he says, tossing me down onto the ground into a pile of leaves. “I should have shot you in the basement, skinned you, and hung your hide on my front porch while I put a pike through your skull.”
“Really? All that trouble for pretty little me? I’m flattered.”
He shrugs, not the least bit phased. “I have a pretty filet knife; it’s shiny, slices through anything, and it would have been fun to watch your skin peel off the muscle. Of course, I would have fed what’s left to the critters that live out here with me.”
“You’re sick,” I sneer, looking up at Genocide from the ground. He looks like someone I would have stayed away from in high school. He’s like the overgrown meat head who takes too many steroids and then throws a piss fit when he doesn’t get his way. “Were you bullied as a kid?” I tilt my head to the side, craning my neck to get a better look at him. “Someone bigger than you steal your lunch money or somethin’?”
His eyes are as black as coal – no emotion in them at all. He narrows his gaze at me but doesn’t say anything for quite some time. I want to continue taunting him, but he probably isn’t planning on killing me right away. He’s going to take me back down to that cell and torture me until I beg him not to kill me.
Genocide points his rifle directly at my face. “Get up.”
I stare down the black steel of the barrel and get up slowly. “Now what?”
“Walk.”
“To where?”
“Until I tell you to fucking stop.”
“You know, this would go a whole lot faster if you had a motor vehicle,” I smart. “I’m so sick of all this walking and running.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Genocide grabs me by the neck to halt me in my tracks. “Stop,” he says, pulling me backward. I lose my footing on the melting snow and fall, landing hard on my ass. My head slams against ground and my vision blurs for a few quick seconds. My hand flies to the back of my head and when I pull my hand away, my fingers are smeared with blood. I sit up and see that he’s brought me back to his humble shit hole in the woods. Oh joy!
He walks around me to the porch, setting his rifle in the crook between the door frame and an old rocking chair. “You’ll be singing a different tune when I rip your tongue out.”
“Now, Genocide, how do you expect me to sing you a pretty song, if I don’t have my tongue? Not that I could carry a tune in the
