Sometimes he loves me

Chapter 20

EMMA

The conversation became lighter after that. When we finally arrive at campus thirty minutes later, I feel my heart drop to my stomach, seeing Vincent sit in front of the building. My shocked face turns to Finn and we both stop walking.

"Go." He says and smiles warmly, giving me the chance to walk up to Vincent alone. "I have somewhere to be anyway."

"Thank you." I quickly say and don't hesitate to walk on as Finn puts his hands in his pockets and walks the other way. He's too understanding...

When Vincent see's me walk up to him he stands up from the porch and throws his cigarette on the ground. His face looks like a thunderstorm.

"I didn't expect you here." I say as I come closer to him.

"I noticed. You left me waiting here for hours. I've walked through this fucking party three times looking for you and you didn't pick up your phone." He says irritated and starts walking back to the building.

I grab my phone and look at the six times he called that I missed when my phone was on silent mode. "Sorry, I-" I apologise, but then it suddenly dawns on me that Vincent knows nothing about my father's passing because he ignored me the whole week like some little kid. "I was at my father's funeral, which you would have known if you read my messages." I say, trying to stay calm.

"I read them." His face is uncaring.

"Excuse me?" I stop and look up at him. The door is open, but the porch is empty and we're alone. "You read my message about my dad dying and just what? Ignored them?" I yell. "Do you even care about me?"

He turns around and looks down at me, walking down the three steps he took. "I do. Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You hate your parents, you told me so yourself."

"They're my parents! How could I not care when they die?" I throw my hands in the air and he takes another step to me. "You're an asshole!" I begin to sob before he grabs my wrists and forces me into a hug. He doesn't say anything and just strokes my hair, letting me sob against his chest.

🖤

FINN

I look at Richard's peaceful face as he is sleeping. Breaking into his house was almost a joke. It was that easy.

With the thought of Richard touching Emma, I feel my knife begging to be taken out of my pocket and slice through his worthless skin. She was only a little girl. How did I miss the signs that she was being abused?

I look at my watch. Lestat and Dagon are waiting outside until I give them a sign to take care of the rest. Although I would love to take my time tonight, I promised them to be back in an hour.

With my black cloves already on, I quietly open his drawer. I didn't need more proof of the type of monster he is, but get it anyway because his drawer is filled with pictures of young girls.

Emma wasn't beautifully broken, no, this monster ripped her apart from the inside out, making her have nightmares about it until this day.

I feel my stomach turn and shut the drawer with a bang. I then grab Richard's face, waking him up.

"Wakey, wakey, Richard." I say as I pull the duvet off him. Seeing his confused and then terrified eyes feels satisfying and I smile underneath the black mask covering my face.

He throws his hands over his bald head in a panic to protect his face. "Who are you? How did you get into my house?"

I take off the mask to reveal my face and smirk down at him. "I am your worst nightmare."

It takes him a second to recognize me, but then he says "Finn? Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I do terrible things for the ones I love." I grab him by his t-shirt and drag him out of his bed, shoving him to the chair I covered in plastic while he was sleeping. "Sit." I order calmly.

"I don't have any money, I swear." He sits down and watches me as I take my knife from my pocket. "Oh God, please." He's horrified.

"Let's keep God out of this, Richard. And I don't want your money."

"Then what do you want?"

"There are a lot of things I want." I answer and walk towards him, grabbing his hands and tying him down to the chair. I walk back and look down at him, delighted by the fear in his eyes.

"Her mind is carved with scars you created." I begin. "How many others were there? How many kids did you scar for life because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself?" I ask him, slowly stroking the sharp part of my knife over his bare knee. In a sharp movement I cut open his boxer short and reveal his tiny dick.

"Please..." He sobs. "Please don't- don't do this."

I stab him into one of his balls without warning. "How many times did she beg you to stop?" I ask gritting my teeth. "How. Many. Times." With each word I push the knife in deeper and twist it.

He tries to say something, but chokes on his own words from the pain instead. When he loses consciousness, I take the knife out of his balls and straighten my back to look down at the blood that drips down his leg.

I then realise there isn't a thing I wouldn't do for Emma. Not a soul I would spare if they hurt her.

I walk to Richard's night stand, where a syringe is waiting for me, next to some salt from his own kitchen. I pick both up and walk back to him. "Stay awake, Richard." I say and yank the needle into his neck, injecting him with something that works quicker than Modafinil. I love Lestat and his psychopathic knowledge.

Richard regains consciousness with a tormented scream. "You will... go to hell... for this..." He clenches his jaw from the pain and his breathing sounds frantic.

"It is not hell if you like the way it burns." I say and take a sock from the ground. I push it into his mouth, not caring if it's clean or not. He deserves less than nothing for what he did to Emma.

"I found this in your kitchen." I say and show him the salt.

His eyes go wide and he tries to speak through the sock in his mouth, shaking his head heavily.

"Someone said that it relieves pain when rubbed into open wounds." I look at the salt, acting dumb. "Or does it do the opposite? Well, let's find out, shall we?" I say and open the little can.

He frantically moves his body when I sprinkle the salt on his bleeding balls, screaming through the sock.

"Does that hurt? Sorry about that."

He closes his eyes from the unbearable pain and breathes hard through his snotty nose.

I slap his cheek. "Open your eyes, Richy, It's just about to get fun! What should I chop off first? Your fingers or your dick?"

He shakes his head, sobbing.

"What?" I ask with my hand behind my ear. "Your dick? Great idea." I grin wickedly. "But remember one thing," I hold the syringe before his face. "I want you to stay awake and feel every bit of pain until you'll beg me to let you die. And then, I'll let you suffer some more."