Lights Will Guide You Home

Raelynn

The dose of the sedative I administered to my victims usually lasted for about an hour. As I was putting on my gloves and picking out my tools, he revived. He looked around, scared and confused. I had him gagged and strapped down to the stone chair in the middle of the small room.

The room was hidden underground in the boathouse. An inconspicuous trap door led down to the room with a small wooden ladder. The walls and floor were made of stone. The room was well lit and contained only a stone chair that had been built in the boathouse originally (I never understood why) andthe steel table that I had put in, along with the large chest that held all of my tools and equipment. In the far corner of the room was another trap door which led down to a lower basement where there stood alone an underground well.

“Well, someone’s up,” I said looking at him from the corner of my eye. He struggled, trying to break free from the straps that held him firmly down on the cold chair.

“There’s no point trying” I said as I wiped the blade of my scalpel, “You’re not going anywhere.”

I put down the scalpel on the table and I turned to face him. “Poor poor Harry.” I said in sarcastic sympathy, “You must be so scared. You don’t even know where you are, do you? I’ll tell you where you are. It’s the least I can do for you. We’re in the place where I bring all bad, twisted men like you, not just to kill you, oh no, that would be too easy for you to die just like that. No. Instead, I will torture you…slowly…”

He looked at me, fear filled in his eyes. “You’re not the first one to be here, quite a few of you have had the honour actually. Just two weeks ago, I had brought another twisted man here and finished him off. His name was Jerry McCoy. I wonder if you knew him.”

He made a noise like he was saying something to me. I understood what he was trying to ask me. ”Why?” I said repeating his question, “You don’t know why?”

I ran my hand along my tools laid out on the steel table, stopped at one and picked it up. I turned and walked up to him. He started to strain against the straps.

“Why?” I repeated again looking straight in his fearful eyes. “For all the mental pain you caused to the women you molested. For violating and scarring them!” I shouted in anger.

“You love to feel up women, don’t you? Run your fingers everywhere.” I said in a softer voice.

I grabbed a hold of his right hand. He was trembling. Shaking in terror. He eyed the tool in my hand, horrified.

“Men like you will never be able to understand the mental damage you caused to those women. I can’t show you the mental pain, so I’ll show you the equally painful physical damage.”

I took his index finger and held it in between the jaws of the pliers. “We’ve played your game. Now let’s play mine.”

I compressed the handles of the pliers. I could hear his screams muffled by the gags. The blood came streaming down. “Feel it. Feel the jaws sinking into your flesh. Feel every single second of the pain. The same amount of pain you caused.”

The jaws struck his bone. I looked at him, looked into the pain in his eyes, the pain seen in all the eyes of those women, as I twisted the pliers until I heard the finger bone snap.

“This is for hurting your kids.” I yelled as I snapped off his middle finger.

“This is for cheating on your wife.” Cutting off his ring finger. “You don’t deserve to wear this.” I said, hurling his wedding ring in a far corner of the room.

“This is for all the women before me.” And chopped of his little finger.

“And this,” I said holding up his thumb – the last remaining finger on his right hand. “This is for all the things you did to me.”

I watched him moan, the pain too much to take. Sweat and tears were dripping down his face. I was sweating myself, and my vision went blurry for a second as the tears filled my eyes before I blinked them away. Slowly, the guilt struck - what had I done? He looked at me exhausted, like he was pleading for forgiveness. The hatred and anger immediately retreated. My throat went dry. I was choking, trying to hold back the tears. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I dropped the pliers and turned away. I had to end this soon. I quickly picked up the scalpel and walked back over to him. I looked into his sad blue eyes, filled with pain and regret, one last time and slit his throat.

I carefully wrapped the dead body in black plastic and managed to drag it down the stairs which led to the well. The small space was lit up by small lights along the stairway. I lifted the heavy body and pushed it into the well.

I stared into the well. My head was filled with guilt. The guilt felt like a thousand daggers stabbed into my back. Everything grew blurry again as the tears welled up in my eyes. One thing kept playing in my mind, the one question Harry asked me, I asked myself… “Why?”