Brutal Bonding

Chapter 7: Female Robbery (pt. 2)

"Show yourself, birdie."

Startled, Wren's eyes widened, her breath hitching in her throat. How had anyone suspected she lurked in the shadows? She glanced around, her heart pounding as she realized that her cowardly hiding place had been unveiled.

Slowly and hesitantly, Wren stepped into view, her gaze meeting the eyes of three women and the man who abused her. A moment of silence hung among them. And then, the president asked, "Did Warner hurt you?"

The name was a dagger that pricked at Wren's memories, a stark reminder of the pain she had tried to bury. She hesitated, her heart warring between the desire to protect herself and confide in the sorority.

Noemy stepped forward, her eyes holding an unexpected level of compassion. "You can trust us, birdie."

Wren's chest tightened, her gaze shifting between the young women who stood before her. She took a trembling breath, the weight of her past trauma pressing upon her like a heavy burden. And then, with a voice that wavered, she admitted, "Yes. He hurt me."

Her words hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, a fragile bridge connecting her to the sorority sisters. The three members exchanged knowing glances, and the silence that followed was pregnant with understanding.

"You know," Kim gestured towards the moonlit clearing around them. Her voice low but fierce. "He can't hurt you anymore, Birdie. He's right here, tied up and helpless.

"You don't have to bear this burden alone. You can hurt him the way he hurt you."

The suggestion hung in the air, electrifying and potent. Wren's heart raced as she approached Warner, her emotions a turbulent maelstrom. The pain he had inflicted upon her, the bruises he had left behind—here was an opportunity to reclaim her power.

Warner's eyes widened, panic flashing across his features as he struggled against the ropes that bound him. "Don't fucking touch me," he seethed.

The comment ignited a simmering anger within Wren. She clenched her fists, struggling to hold onto her resolve. She knew that she should untie Warner and let him go. The goal was never to cause him physical harm, just enough fear to make him understand the pain he had inflicted on her. But as she gazed into his eyes, she could see the lack of remorse, the twisted satisfaction in his wickedness, and it sparked an anger she couldn't contain.

"Apologize for what you did to me," her voice, quiet but authoritative, cut through the tension.

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"Apologize!" She screeched, her frustration boiling over. In one swift move, she kicked a nearby log, causing it to clatter loudly against a tree. Warner flinched, fear flashing across his face.

Suddenly, something snapped inside Wren, and without warning, her pent-up emotions erupted into action. With an almost primal instinct, she lunged at him with the knife she had held tightly hidden behind her back now gleamed in the moonlight.

Warner's eyes widened, his voice a high-pitched plea as reality dawned upon him. "No, wait—"

He howled in terror as the first blow struck, followed by another and another. His begging mixed with her angry sobs and screams, the woods bearing witness to a nightmarish symphony of violence and release.

Wren ignored the crowd calling out to her. It was as if she had shut herself off from the world, lost in her rage and grief. The pent-up fury and suffering all erupted like a volcano that had finally found its breaking point. Each stab felt like a release, a purging of the painful memories that haunted her. Angry tears streamed down her face as she unleashed fury upon him. She felt his liquid essence seep into her clothes, but she didn't care.

And then, as suddenly as the attack started, it ended. Wren's hands fell to her sides, the knife slipping from her grasp. She slumped to the ground, her breath ragged and her body trembling. The gravity of what she had done began to sink in.

Warner's body slumped against the tree, a grotesque tableau of her inner turmoil. Beads of perspiration cascaded down his forehead, while his white shirt drenched in crimson, the blood trickling onto the grass below. His expression, no longer handsome, was frozen with permanent torment.

As if drawn by a morbid curiosity, Ariana approached the motionless figure, her movements a tad unsteady. Her fingers fumbled as she reached for his wrist, searching for a pulse.

"Oh my gosh," the vice president slurred, her voice carrying an unusual detachment. "His blood is the same color as my nail polish."

Noemy's gaze snapped to the un-sober girl, her expression a mix of bewilderment and disbelief. "Girl, now is not the time for that."

Ariana's lips twitched into an almost absent-minded smile. "I mean, it's kinda weird, right?"

The gravity of the situation seemed lost on Ariana, her slight intoxication lending an eerie surrealness to her words. And then, her detachment wavered, her voice taking on a somber tone. "By the way, he's totally dead."

A heavy silence fell over the clearing, the weight of the situation settling in like a shroud. The reality of the night's events hung in the air, a haunting testament to the fragile boundaries between sanity and savagery.

Tears welled in Wren's eyes as she turned to the three girls, the reality of the situation crashing down like a ton of bricks.

Wren Brennan had brutally murdered Warner Hartfelt. And she was surrounded by multiple witnesses.

Author's Note
Well, the moment we've all been waiting for has finally happened...

What do you think about Warner's brutal death? Let me know in the comments! You can also vote, share, and follow me for updates.