Looking at Jude's pathetic self laying in agony at my feet, I finally get it. Without hesitation, I'm going to end him just like Nic had done to those who had wronged him and I won't stop until the job is done. I deserve peace. I've only been living with this for a few weeks, but what about the other girl he hurt? She's been living with this for who knows how long? She deserves justice just as much as I do, if not more. They laughed at her and claimed she was a liar. They disregarded her pain, embarrassment, and shame.
I won't let him get away with it any longer. People like Jude need to realize that their money won't always speak louder than their crimes. If justice won't get served in a courtroom, then it sure as hell will be served in this old, secret room in the back of Charles' private wine cellar.
I kneel, watching him writhe in pain. “You're scum, Jude Carter. I'm going to enjoy ending you.”
A twisted laugh tears out of Jude as he tips his head back to meet my eyes. “I fucking dare you,” he taunts.
I narrow my eyes and really take him in. He's skinny and malnourished. It's clear he's been down here since the masquerade party, and it's damn near clear that Colton was the one who put him here. Who else would know about this fucked up little dungeon back here?
Jude has bruises covering his body, both old and new. There are cuts, grazes, burns. All sorts of shit covering him and it's clear that Colton has been taking his frustrations out on him. But why? Is this Colton's way of trying to protect me? All I know is that Colton has known exactly where this asshole has been for the past three weeks and didn't say a fucking word.
He lied to me and that's inexcusable. Unforgivable.
Unforgettable.
As I watch Jude, I see the desperation in his eyes. He wants me to end him. He wants me to slice this jagged glass deep across his throat and end his suffering, and for once, I'm inclined to give him exactly what he wants. But he should know, I won't be doing it without taking what I want first.
He's going to remember me when he's gone. He's going to rot in hell and he's going to know for all of eternity that I was the one who put him there. I'm going to make him wish he never touched me, never even fucking saw me.
“Is that what you want?” I question, leaning toward him. “You want me to kill you? Do you a fucking favor and take away all of your pain?”
“Just do it,” he spits with desperation.
“Don't you worry about that,” I tease, spinning the wine bottle in my hand again, feeling a piece of my soul darkening to the point of no return. A laugh bubbles up my throat, making me sound like a psychotic serial killer. “I have big plans for that, but the show is only just starting. Do you really think I'm about to skip ahead to the big finale when I haven't had a chance to make you hurt, just like you did to me?”
Jude pulls himself back to his feet and I don't miss the way his knees shake beneath his weight. “You don't have the fucking guts,” he says as I straighten myself out to meet him face to face. “Just turn around and fuck off. We both know Colton is going to keep me down here as his little chew toy, so unless you're here to let me finish what I started, then I suggest you go.”
I see fucking red.
The jagged edge of the wine bottle slams up into Jude's stomach, the broken glass plunging deep inside of him. “The fuck did you just say to me?” I demand, tearing the bloodied wine bottle out of him.
Jude instantly falls to his knees, his hands clutching at his stomach. They turn red within seconds and his dirty shirt becomes drenched in his own blood. “What's your fucking problem, bitch?” he says, staring down at his hands in shock. “You fucking stabbed me.”
“AND YOU FUCKING RAPED ME.” The light from the door shines against his shimmering red hands and happiness sparks within my dead soul. I didn't realize how badly I needed that. “But about fucking time, right?” I laugh, wondering what parts of my soul will still be intact when I walk out of here. Maybe I’ll lose it all and spend the rest of my days suffering, or maybe I'll sleep like a fucking baby knowing that he'll never be able to touch me again.
For good measure, I swing my hand around and the remains of the wine bottle smash against Jude's temple and he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.
He groans on the ground, clenching his eyes as the pain rocks through him, but I'm not nearly done with him. I've barely even gotten started. “Get up,” I demand, kicking my foot out against his ribs. “Be a fucking man and face me.” Jude’s glare snaps up to mine and it’s as though those words hurt more than anything I’ve done to him like it’s some kind of trigger to something much, much deeper, but in the end, all I can do is grin down at him. His issues aren’t mine to deal with but I sure
