“I know.”
Going to her black bag, I grab the cat o nine tails she made for this occasion. Knox bought the whip from an adult store but ourgirl glued metal crosses to the ends. She’s quite the crafty little minx. I hold it up for him to see, and his eyes widen when he spots the metal.
“Please don’t.” He begs before going into another round of scripture.
“ When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”
I arch an eyebrow at Knox and he chuckles.
“Do you believe the shit coming out of your mouth, Prophet? God will not save you from this pain.”
Pulling my arm back, I swing forward hitting him in the stomach. Initially he hisses in pain but by the third strike he howls, sounding more like a wounded animal than a human being.
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed-”
His skin is bright red with cuts through them and still he won’t shut up. This time I hit him in the mouth and it cuts his lip open and blood flows to his chin. He screams with each lash and I enjoy it thoroughly.
“This is for my girl, and every time you hurt her. An eye for an eye and all that shit.”
I take a deep breath as I spot Heather watching me, her eyes filled with love for me. This means something to her and spurs me on.
I hit him three more times across the chest, two of the crosses stick into his skin. I know it’s time to stop if I don’t want to kill him and as much as I’d like to, I won't take that from her.
“You do not speak unless spoken to.”
He is finally quiet when John Steve starts.
“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God and I trust him.
I move over to him, pull my leg back and swing it forward, kicking him in the gut.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Heather bursts out in a fit of giggles.
“Annoying, isn’t it? This was my life. Nonstop scripture, but I knew even then they didn’t believe it. It was never anything more than a piss-poor excuse to hurt people. Innocent people. Defenseless children.”
Heather skips back to the black bag and then goes to her mother with one of the two paddles I made for her and sets it on the floor. Grabbing her head she tilts it to the side.
“Killian, can you hold her head exactly like this for me?”
He places a hand on either side of her head and holds her in a firm grip.
Heather lifts his arm.
“I don’t want to cut you.”
She pulls the knife out of her bun and leans over the side of her mother's face.
“Do you remember how much I loved to draw when I was little? I’m still an artist. I think you’ll be impressed with my talent.”
Her whimper is loud as she begs for mercy she does not deserve.
“Please Heather. I’m your mother. Don’t do this. I believe in forgiveness. Don’t you? I can be the mother you want me to be.”
She falters for a split second, her eyes welling up slightly from her mothers words.
Standing in front of the woman that gave birth to her, Heather shakes her head as if she’s trying to push the emotional pain away.