She howled in pain, the gag muffling her agony, but still he didn’t relent. She was at his mercy now and he was determined to enjoy himself. Raising the blood-stained cleaver, he dragged it over her exposed shoulder, once, twice, in a neat criss-cross pattern.
Her body reacted, bucking vigorously, as a low moan stole from her lips. Pausing to catch his breath, White surveyed his victim, pliant and bloodied on the chair in front of him. Her torso, shoulders and arms were covered in deep cuts, yet to her credit she had never hung her head, nor asked for mercy. This one had a bit of steel, for sure, which both excited and unnerved him.
Casting his eyes down, he gripped the fabric of her pants, pulling it up to get a bit of air above flesh, then slid his blade through. The fabric tore easily and her left thigh was now exposed. He ran the blade over her pale, freckled skin, then placing the tip of the blade on top of her thigh, he slammed his fist down on the butt of handle. The wide blade slid two inches into her flesh and then, using all his strength, he started to drag the cleaver towards him, slowly splitting her thigh open from top to bottom. A muffled gasp, followed by a howl, then the girl’s body seemed to spasm with pain. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, White took a step backwards, keen to admire his handiwork, to revel in her anguish.
The girl had her eyes tight shut, trying desperately to swallow down the pain, but now to his surprise she opened them again. Instead of imploring him to stop, she gathered herself, looking calmly at him, as she ignored the waves of agony still rippling through her body.
Marching forward, he held the blade up to her face, smearing her cheeks with her own gore. She blinked back at him, repelled, but defiant. Without warning, he pulled the gag from her mouth. The girl gasped, opening and closing her mouth like a fish, as she desperately drank in fresh oxygen. But he gave her no respite, holding the sticky cleaver up to her throat, resting the steel on her carotid artery.
‘I was going to take my time, but maybe I should just end it now. What do you say?’
Her eyelids flickered, as he dug the blade into her flesh.
‘One cut and that’s it. You’ll bleed out in front of me, like a stuck pig …’
He ran a finger across his own throat.
‘What do you think? Should I do it now? Should I?’ he continued, raising his voice steadily. ‘Or do you want to live?’
He let his words hang in the air.
‘I am prepared to let you live a little longer. But you are going to have to beg. Can you beg, Kassie?’
This was it. The moment he craved. Despite the trauma of their ordeal, all his victims pleaded at the finish – desperate to live, regardless of how deformed and bloodied they were. That was when he let them know that there was no hope, that they were going to die. It was the most delicious sensation, one he had fast become addicted to.
To his surprise, the girl continued to stare at him.
‘What’s the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue?’
Still she didn’t respond, her eyelashes barely moving as she raised her gaze to meet his.
‘Fine, have it your way,’ he raged, making as if to slit her throat.
She didn’t move. Didn’t react in any way. And now he noticed that the girl seemed to be looking beyond him, within him almost, as she stared into his eyes. Even as she did so, a faint smile seemed to crease her face.
Confused, enraged, White roared his displeasure, brandishing the cleaver above him. But still she refused to be cowed. And now, for the first time since he’d started his campaign of violence, Joseph White was suddenly lost as to what to do. This girl clearly felt pain – she was sickened by the sight of her own body and disgusted by him – but there was one emotion she seemed incapable of. The one emotion he craved above all others.
Fear.