Power of the Pussy |+18

Prologue

The sounds coming from the man was gut-wrenching. His groans resounded throughout the room from the immense pain that was intensifying by the minute. It felt like his skin had been pricked by a thousand needles. His eyes shut tightly as the stinging got worse.

Laurel stood over him breathing heavily. Her chest was heaving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. She was winded. But most of all, she was pissed. Ignoring the specks of blood that was across her face, she looked down her nose at him. He was bleeding profusely and  breathing heavily. He looked pitiful tied up in the chair.

One of his eyes were swollen shut. His lips were huge and puffy. Knots coated his face and his torso was literally battered. All due to the beating he suffered earlier from Trigga, Bentley, Landon, and Vincent.

Just from looking at the lacerations decorated all over his body, everyone knew he was suffering a slow painful death. Chunks of his flesh was inflamed due to being stabbed repeatedly. That was courtesy of Laurel. Despite the gruesome scene before her, she didn't turn away. Not once. She was content with watching him suffer.

Landon, who was still feeling the blunt from earlier, turned his head away, gagging. If he looked on another second, he would've thrown up. He seen a lot of shit in his life, hell done a lot too, but the scene before him was enough to churn his stomach. He winced as he tried to block out   the guy whimpering. The sound was tormenting. 

Meanwhile Trigga, who stood a few feet from Laurel, watched on with a look of awe. He was caught off guard. He knew she had it in her, but he didn't knew she would go this far. Honestly, he was a little impressed. All night, Trigga and his crew had been beating this nigga ass. The entire time, the dude talked shit. But Laurel was the one to humble him. 

Quickly snapping out of his trance, Trigga approached Laurel from behind. Pressing up against her, Trigga leaned down. His lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. "You wanna finish him off?" 

He could've easily ended the nigga himself without blinking an eye. But he wanted to see if Laurel was capable of going all the way through. He wanted to see if she planned on finishing what she started.

"Aye nigga! This wasn't part of the plan." Bentley protested. He knew where Trigga was going with this. And once she pulled that trigger there was no coming back. This shit would stick with her for the rest of her life. Not everyone was capable of committing the most grave sin.

"Shut the fuck up!" Trigga waved him off, not wanting him to fuck everything up. Time was ticking. The nigga was starting to go into shock, turning pale and his breathing was off.

Every time he attempted to take a breath his wounds would leak even more. There was no time for second guessing. It's either now or never.

"Yo, look at me," quickly grabbing her chin towards him, "do you wanna finish this nigga off?" He repeated more firmly. His eyes searched hers for any hesitation or at least fear. Instead he saw nothing. Her once light eyes were now completely dark. That same dark look he had saw a while back.

Laurel gazed at him with vacant eyes. Wordlessly, she nodded her head. Releasing the bloody knife from her grip, the object landed on the tarp with a loud thud. Not needing to be told twice, Trigga pulled his gun out of his waistband. Gripping her right hand, he carefully placed the Glock 40 in her hand.

"I know you know how to hold a gun." He stated, giving her a look. Trigga was no dummy, her father was a police officer.

Still mute, Laurel gripped the heavy weapon with her small hand. "Tighter. Grip right here with a little more pressure." Trigga instructed, lightly tapping on the bottom hand that was supporting the other that held the firearm.

"Be prepared for the kickback but don't flinch." Trigga instructed into her ear before slowly backing up.

Taking a step back, he stood and watched Laurel. A part of him still reluctant that she would actually pull the trigger.

With a blank face but a focused mind, Laurel took the safety off and aimed straight for his head. Her brow was low and eyes as dark as ink, making her unwavering stare more intense. The wounded man felt a chill go down his spine. It felt as if she was looking straight into his soul. Her bloody finger slowly curled on the trigger. It finally hit him, she wasn't bluffing.

Despite being nearly swollen shut, his eyes went wide in protest.

Pow!

The gun went off before he could even make a plea for his life. She didn't even flinch. His head jerked back in the seat as his brain matter spattered from the impact. It was a clean shot that left a dime size hole in the center of his forehead.  

He fell still. Immediately after his body released bowel movements, the stench permeating throughout the room. Despite all the gore, she still didn't turn away. She watched him take his last breath. No remorse. No fear. She didn't regret what she did. Instead she looked delighted.

Trigga stood back watching the entire thing. With a stern look over his face, he nodded in approval. The wheels in his head turning as he began to form a plan. He could already see Laurel was going to be a beast. By the time he was done with her, she was going to be the coldest bitch in the city. The streets weren't gonna know what hit em.