Part 27 (2/2)
”It makes more sense. I have to start thinking responsibly. I'll make more steady money working at Wendy's full-time than I can make on average working the booth in the day and flipping Double Cla.s.sics at night. We're not going to lose anything again.”
While in the attic of the group home, Jewels pulled a chain that she'd thrown over an overhead beam.
Now she was lifting Mr. Reynolds. She hooked the chain to a stationary two-by-four post in the attic.
Blood dripped from Mr. Reynolds's nose. His left eye was swollen shut. ”No more, please.”
”Never thought you'd be a product of your own torture, did you? You got off stringing up defenseless kids to this ceiling. I'm about to get off, too. Let you get a taste of your own medicine and then some.” She took all the items from her leather bag, all except one-the main main one. She set upright three mayonnaise jars filled with gasoline, then peeled away the thin plastic film on a box of double-edged razors. She tore off a piece of gray tape. one. She set upright three mayonnaise jars filled with gasoline, then peeled away the thin plastic film on a box of double-edged razors. She tore off a piece of gray tape.
She stood up and slammed a gloved fist into his naked body. ”Now you know how this s.h.i.+t feels.” She delivered a kidney blow that caused urine to leak down his legs.
He could no longer voice the extent of his discomfort. All he could do was grunt, ”Please.”
”What?” She positioned her ear near Mr. Reynolds's mouth. ”p.u.s.s.y, speak up. I can't hear you beg.”
”P-please. I quit.”
She clenched a fist of his hair, then shoved six double-edged razors into his mouth and taped it closed. She punched the center of his face until she felt his nose bone crunch under her punch.
”You want to quit now.” She circled him.
”Did...” Punch. ”You...” Jumping knee thrust to the ribs.
Mr. Reynolds bit down on a razor.
”...Stop...” Elbow to the groin.
He let out a painful grunt.
”...When...” Front snap-kick to the lower abdomen. ”Them...” Spinning back fist to the cheek.
Blood filled his mouth.
”...Kids...” Palm-heel strike to his solar plexus.
His blubber shook.
”...Asked...” Knife-hand strike to the throat.
He struggled to catch a breath.
”...You...” A thumb gouge to the eye. ”To...” A reverse punch to the mouth.
A razor sliced his tongue.
”...Stop?”
The blood backed up in his mouth and found an escape route through his nose.
Jewels lifted his wrinkled eyelid with a thumb. ”I ain't done yet. I'm gonna show you how it feels to be taken advantage of, to be f.u.c.ked around.”
He was still swallowing blood.
Jewels stripped until she was nude-with the exception of her boots and leather gloves. She went to her bag and took her special treat out-a steel strap-on. She slapped Mr. Reynolds in the face with all thirteen inches of it. ”Open your eyes, b.i.t.c.h. I said, I ain't done yet.”
He found his last-resort strength and tugged at the chain suspending him from the ceiling.
”You must have never seen one this big. Wait until you feel it.” She circled his body and stopped behind him. ”When I'm done, you're gonna know what it feels like to be really abused; what it feels like to have an a.s.shole with stretch marks.” She rubbed the cold steel head along his crack.
He clenched his cheeks-tight.
She hit him with a combination of punches that started on the left side of his fat body and ended on the right. Then, she began the stretching process, wearing out his sphincter.
His face contorted and his eyes bulged with each violent thrust. He prayed to die. She pulled his head back so hard that he was forced to swallow a razor, which sliced his windpipe. The suffocation began.
”If you had never put your hands on my loved ones, I'd never have been thinking of ways to torture you.” She detached herself from the strap-on, leaving it wedged inside of him. ”That looks painful.”
Blood started to fill his lungs. His face was discolored, livid. Veins protruded around his strained eyes and temples. Jewels answered his prayer. He was dying, but in the worst way.
She stood inches away, looking into his eyes as life escaped him. ”Die.”
The strap-on fell to the floor just when death consumed him. Jewels dressed herself, then began to soak the attic with two of the three mayonnaise jars of gasoline. She poured the last jar over his head.
Jewels jumped from the loading dock and eased into the shadows of the night as the h.e.l.lish inferno consumed the group home.
”I don't feel sorry for him at all. I might change my opinion in some other life, but right now, that's what he gets.” Kitchie stuffed a stack of Street Prophet jeans into a duffle bag. ”I'm glad there were no children in there.”
”G.o.d don't like ugly.” GP packed the last of their merchandise into the back of Jewels's Escalade.
”G.o.d has to like ugly; He made it. The Big Guy and I would've had serious issues if He'd waited until Judgment Day to let old man Reynolds feel the fire.” Jewels stroked the top of Junior's head and helped him into the car.
Secret climbed from the backseat and pointed to a crowd of suits and ties on the other side of Euclid Avenue.
”Girl, get your b.u.t.t back in the car so we can leave.” Kitchie c.o.c.ked a hip, resting a hand on it.
”That's him,” Secret said, still pointing a finger.
”That's who?” GP gazed in the direction her finger was aimed.
”That's Brandon, Daddy.”
Everybody looked.
”Get in the car, Secret,” Kitchie said. ”We know who the mayor is.”
”No, that's Brandon. The man who found Junior and me in his car. The one who...you know.”
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