I headed out of the closet with a huff, jogging downstairs as Saint’s music filled my ears. I marched to the kitchenette, grabbing a pair of scissors from the drawer before hurrying back upstairs and kneeling in the closet by the box. I jammed the scissors beneath the lid and tried to prise it open with all my might, growling under my breath.
I tried for several long minutes before realising it wasn’t going to budge and I huffed my fury, tossing the scissors at the wall and cutting into the perfect wallpaper to one side of the mirror. I smirked as I caught hold of the tear and ripped it wider. Then wider still, tearing whole chunks out of the white and silver paper until I’d ruined every scrap of it on the wall.
Screw Saint. He hadn’t changed at all. At least the other two had apologised to me, but him? He was always going to be a heathen. Always going to keep me as a glorified pet. I’d been so fucking stupid to think things had been improving between us. He dressed me up and paraded me around school like I was a wild animal that he’d trained for his psycho circus. And he hadn’t paid nearly enough in penance for what he’d done to me.
I stood up, staring around at his beautiful clothes with a vicious smile pulling at my lips. You wanna make me wear all those fancy ass clothes? Then I wonder what you’ll wear when I’m through with yours?
I grabbed the scissors and snatched a pair of trousers which were folded neatly on the shelf. Then I cut the crotch right out of them and tossed them on the floor. My heart thundered in my chest as I started working through every pair he had, casting them aside as soon as I was done. I was probably destroying thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff, but I didn’t care. Saint didn’t care about me or anything but the perfect picture he portrayed of me all the time, so I was going to royally fuck with that image by taking away one of the things he relied on most.
By the time I’d worked through all of his pants, I started cutting two nipple holes over the chests of his shirts, throwing them over my shoulder as I finished each one. Then I snipped all of his boxers in half and cut the toes off of his socks. I smiled at the carnage around me, knowing I was running out of time before Saint came back from his workout. I was going to pay for this bad, so fuck it. Might as well get as much revenge as possible on him now.
I strode from the closet, running downstairs with a thrill in my veins which I knew wasn’t going to last. He’s going to kill me Quentin Tarantino style. Rebecca will be cleaning my blood from the walls for days.
I grabbed a few cans of tuna which were stacked in the cupboard then poured each one into three separate bowls before pocketing another one for later. I planted the bowls down in the boys’ usual spots on the dining table, mentally refusing to cook and clean for them this morning then left a note on the table. Enjoy breakfast, fuckwits!
I was so angry to have my letters taken from me all over again. It reminded me that I was still chained, that I’d been lulled into a sense of safety recently. Blake at least had made some effort, but he had no intention of letting me go. And Saint was clearly planning on torturing me forever.
I kicked on my sneakers in the entranceway so I’d be ready to run and headed back up to Saint’s room, grabbing two rolls of toilet paper from his bathroom then proceeded to throw it everywhere all over his bedroom so it hung from the light and even got caught way up in the rafters above. Have fun getting that down, dickweed.
I headed into his bathroom, running water in the sink and wetting lumps of TP in it before launching it at the ceiling and walls, making it stick everywhere in his pristine bathroom.
I hurried back to his room to check the time and my breath halted as the clock just ticked onto half seven.
The crypt door sounded and I dropped to the floor, crawling under Saint’s bed with my heart in my throat.
“What the fuck!?” Saint boomed, his voice filling every crevice of The Temple. A set of footsteps came running and Blake spoke a second later.
“Shit, where is she?” he demanded then more footsteps pounded upstairs. I held my breath as Saint’s sneakers appeared ahead of me, pressing my hand to my mouth.
“Tatum!”
I swear, the whole church shook as he marched into the bathroom, kicking the door open and preceded to cuss with every colourful word under the sun. “Where is she?!” he roared as Blake’s bare feet appeared at the top of the stairs.
“She must have left,” Blake growled. “I’ll wake Kyan.” He jogged back downstairs and Saint stormed into the closet, making every muscle in my body clench as I waited for the world to end. Or for him to burst into flames and turn into a pile of soot.
The noise that left him was somewhere between a wail and roar. A bang sounded and the crash of shattering glass made my heart tremble as he broke the mirror.
“Everything’s ruined,” he snarled like a wolf. “Fucking everything!” He strode back out of the room, running downstairs. “Well?! Did you find
