SWNOVELS Vicious Hearts: Chapter 34
Except, sometimes, I am one.
A necessary monster. An avenging angel of death. A corrective force of nature.
Like tonight, when I’m Kevin Halcott’s grim reaper and worst nightmare.
“Please…I…”
“I think you know why I’m here, Kevin.”
I glare down at the portly man in his underwear that I’ve just dragged from his bed. The man with blood pouring down his chin, horror in his sobbing eyes, and no teeth.
…As of about four minutes ago, when I smashed them all out with a hammer.
“Please…”
“How many, Kevin?”
He sobs, his underpants soaked with his piss, more of it pooling at his knees. And for some reason, that fucking angers me even more. He chokes, screaming and gurgling blood as I grab him by a handful of his greasy, graying hair.
“How. Fucking. MANY?”
“I—I don’t know!’ he sobs. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”
“How many children, Kevin?”
There. There it is. I watch with a sick hunger as the light bulb goes on. As he looks at me with a fresh wave of horror, realizing this isn’t a nightmare, or a case of mistaken identity, or a robbery.
That look is Kevin realizing the sins of his past are about to come back and kill him. Tonight, right here on his living room floor covered in blood and piss.
Monsters like to hide in plain sight. This particular one positioned himself as a caregiver. A nurturer. A selfless humanitarian, taking in wayward teens abandoned by the system, into his licensed foster home in Denver. The motherfucker’s even been recognized as a local hero for his lifetime of service helping teens in need.
The actual horrific truth is that Kevin used his position of power and his standing as an unimpeachable pillar of the community to guarantee himself a steady flow of innocent victims.
Including Finn and Una.
I’ll be killing Kevin’s reputation tonight, too. I will burn his legacy to the fucking ground around his corpse.
When he doesn’t say anything, I sigh and shake my head. “Kevin, monsters like you always know the number. Because to you, it’s a power thing. To pieces of shit like yourself, hurting children makes you feel strong. Like a big man. Doesn’t it, Kevin?”
“P—please! I never meant to hurt—”
I laugh coldly. Then I pull out the burner phone from my pocket, open the video camera, and start filming.
“I’m going to ask you again. How. Many.”
Kevin squeezes his eyes shut as he starts to cry.
“Tell me, and perhaps I’ll let you live.”
Oh, the lies we tell…
He looks up at me, a spark of hope flaring in his eyes. “R—really?”
“Of course. Just tell me. And, please, smile for the camera, Kevin. How many children did you sexually abuse in this foster ‘home’ from Hell?”
He starts to weep, realizing that I’m filming.
“Please! I—I’m a good man—”
He screams bloody murder when I kick him as hard as I can in the balls, making him double up and vomit as he falls into the puddle of his own urine soaking the carpet.
“HOW. MANY.”
“Th-Thirty-six!”
I flinch. Even I flinch.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I’m shaking. And the violence I feel surging up inside of me is so fucking raw and so fucking big I’m legitimately afraid of the monstrousness that might explode out of me.
But only for a moment. After that, the fear turns to delight.
I’m going to enjoy this. And I’m going to take my time.
“Say it again,” I snarl. “Right into the camera, Kevin.”
He’s sobbing and writhing on the ground. “You swear? You swear you’ll let me live if I—”
“It can’t hurt your chances, can it?”
He swallows, nodding as blood drips from his shattered mouth. “Okay! Okay! Thirty-six kids!” He starts to cry as he stares into the phone camera.
“Now, tell us your name, age, address, and your foster home’s license number.”
He lists it all, crying and begging for forgiveness. But he’ll find no forgiveness here tonight. Not from me.
When I have everything I need, I stop recording and put the phone away. I’ll find a program to edit out or mask my voice later, before I send this to every local and national news outlet I can.
Slowly, I turn and take my jacket off, draping it across the arm of Kevin’s couch.
“Y—you…you said you’d let me—”
“I did,” I nod, quietly taking a cigarette out of the silver case and lighting it. “Yes, I did say that.”
Then I turn and walk over to the console along the wall, where I’ve already laid out a few things from Kevin’s kitchen.
Mostly knives.
“Thirty-six…” I growl quietly. My skin fucking throbs with hate and violence.
My blood sizzles like molten death as I finger a few knives and then pick up the cleaver. I heft it meditatively in my hand, my back to Kevin.
“That’s a good number, Kevin.” I turn to glance at him over my shoulder, relishing the confused look in his face. “A really good fucking number.”
“I…I don’t—” His eyes land on the cleaver in my hand as I turn, twirling it in my fingers. “NO!” He screeches. “No! You promised!! You prom—!”
“Thirty-six is the number of pieces I’m going leave you in, Kevin.”
“No—”
“But don’t worry. I won’t let you miss any of the fun. I can guarantee you’ll still be alive until at least number thirty.”
I could gag him. But the neighbors are far enough away, and I’m not too concerned. Also, I’m going to relish each and every one of the screams.
It’s just over two hours later when I finally walk out the back door, turning to toss the flickering matchbook in my hand back into the kitchen. The gas I’ve poured all over the house catches quickly, and I exhale slowly, lighting another smoke as I watch the thirty-six pieces of Kevin Halcott and his house of horrors explode into ash.
I frown, suddenly remembering one last thing. In my pocket, I pull out the bloody wad of tissues containing Kevin’s ring finger. Deftly, I pull off the stupid fake Super Bowl ring, drop it back into my pocket, and then chuck the finger into the flames.
Now, it’s the thirty-six pieces of Kevin.
I watch the raging inferno for a moment.
Then I’m gone.
It’s first light when I step back into our apartment. In our room, I watch Una sleep quietly and soundly, a small smile curling my lips.
What have you done to me, Una…
I leave the ring on her bedside table. After a quick shower, I slide into bed next to her, wrapping her in my arms. She stirs a little, twisting and sleepily opening her eyes to look at me.
“Hi, you.”
I lean in and kiss her softly.
Una smiles and then stretches lazily. “Are you just getting to bed?”
“There was something I had to take care of. Go back to sleep.”
She grins as her eyes close again. “What time is it?” She twists in my arms to glance at the clock on her bedside table.
She goes still.
I wait, letting the seconds tick by before she slowly turns in my arms. Her face is white, her lips quivering as her eyes search mine.
“Cillian…”
“It’s done,” I murmur.
She holds my gaze for another quarter second, before suddenly she’s wrapping herself around me, hugging me tightly as she cries into my chest.
“You didn’t have to.”
“But I always will.”
Her lips crush to mine as my arms circle her tightly.
Yes. I always will.