167 ACD

  ...

  “You piece of shit! You’ll see, pretty boy, four years, four shitty years…”

  A blow to his ribs.

  “… You know what Domini’s prison looks like? Do you know where they put me for what you showed I did?”

  A blow in his cheek.

  “… Do you know what they did to me?!”

  Blow after blow, in his stomach.

  “… Do you know what they did to me there when they found out, you rotten shit, dead rotten empty shit, do you know what they did to me?!”

  A blow, his nose this time.

  Silence? No, panting could be heard—Avery continued to listen. He sensed that Xavier had come closer and was next to his ear.

  Xavier started to whisper.

  “I waited, I waited, I thought about you, so pretty, mature, not so young anymore, but still beautiful. I see you, pretty boy. You know what I’ll do to you? Do you know what I’ll do to you for what you did? Four years, I had time to think. You know what I’ll do to you, you pretty boy? Do you want to know? You don’t want to know, your eyes are closed, I can see. You're scared as then, you’re scared of me, good, good, you—”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Xavier stopped talking; he was panting louder.

  “… Because you know what I’ll do to you, I’ll fuck you hard. For four years, I have had time to think about what I would do to you. First, I’ll fuck you in every possible way. I didn’t then; I will now, and then I’ll cut off your ears. If you hadn’t heard what I was saying then, you wouldn’t have ratted me out, and I wouldn’t have ended up where I did. You fucked up shit, four years, you—”

  Avery listened as Xavier kept talking, babbling; he was full of anger but also excited. Panting with exhaustion?

  He hadn’t practiced in prison, Avery was certain.

  Xavier had surprised and overpowered him with some tool, surely an illegal one.

  Avery had known this would happen. But. He had prepared.

  He listened. What was Xavier doing—struggling with his clothes? He was intending to do what he said.

  Disgusting.

  Avery decided he had to do it. He had to defend himself.

  Xavier. It was Xavier who was a fucked-up piece of shit; what he did then, what he did for weeks when everyone was in a panic after the attack, what he did was disgusting.

  “Shit, not human, Xavier,” Avery repeated to himself; he had to. He had never done what he needed to do now. For the good of everyone.

  Xavier finally managed; Avery heard; he slid his pants down; that rustling of fabric, it was it.

  Now!

  Avery jerked despite his hands being tied. He reached out, grabbed Xavier by the crotch, and squeezed. A scream. Avery pulled and sank his nails deep. A louder scream. He jerked again, and Xavier fell to his knees, his face next to Avery’s. Avery caught Xavier with his mouth and bit him. A muffled squeak. Avery pulled his head back and hit him—once, twice, three times. Again. He felt his own blood. He hit Xavier again, elbowing him in the crotch, then under the rib. Xavier tried to pull something from the pocket of his pants that had slid down himself.

  What? A Crystal device, excellent.

  “Of no problem now,” Avery thought to himself.

  His hands were still bound, but he reached out and yanked. He caught the hand with the device between his bound hands and began to direct the tool at Xavier’s body.

  They struggled for a moment. Avery could hear that Xavier was barely breathing anymore; he really hadn’t practiced in prison.

  A moment later, Avery struck.

  … A new sound, soft, fleshy, and wet. The body fell, and the clothes rustled.

  Silence.

  Avery opened his eyes. Yes, Xavier was dead.