Cold-Blooded Beautiful by Christine Zolendz Read Free Book Online Page B

David, no-no-no-no-no-no,” I sobbed.  “Oh, God.  What did you do?  What did you do to me?  What did you do?”
    His face was in mine instantly with the gun held to my chin, “What else did you see?  What else did you take?”
    Red blood spread across the sheets underneath me, my uterus convulsed in pain.  “Everything,” I hissed.  “And I made five copies of each.  You’ll never find them, but if something happens to me, everyone will.” I smiled.  “Oh, and check your secret accounts, dear.  All that money you stole from my hospital ?  It’s gone, you fucking piece of shit.”
     

Chapter 3
     

     
    Rage.
    Samantha was visibly shaking as she whispered her story.
    I should have killed him.
    The sick part was that I knew there was so much more to this story, and she was completely spent just telling me this much.  I knew this was overload. I knew what she was feeling. I knew she could see the images thick and visceral - real and solid right in front of her, because as she spoke, her emerald eyes followed the ghosts of the things that haunted the room.
    “Okay, Sam.  Enough for tonight, love, I can’t let you suffer through this again.  I…we’ll talk again, more, but you need a break.”  I held her in my arms and kissed her on the temple, the one that I knew still felt the lingering apparition of David’s gun.  “I promise you, I will never let him hurt you again.”  Lifting her gently, I carried her into the bathroom and placed her softly on the chaise lounge.
    I ran a bath for her as she sat and stared blankly at the ceiling.  The look in her eyes was so broken and full of agony, it made me want to rip someone apart.  Taking out all her soaps and scrubby shit, I placed them in order along the edge of the steaming tub.  I knew what she needed after letting that filth out, I knew Sam ; she needed to clean herself, rub herself raw with apples and fucking cinnamon.  “I’m sorry I pushed you to talk today, but the thought of you being sick killed me.  I know talking about him makes you feel dirty, baby.  Go ahead, wash him off your skin.”
    Her vacant eyes still stared up at the ceiling.
    Holy fuck, Sam lost a baby .  I had to stop her from telling me more. Fuck, I just want to watch him die.  Really slow.  All I saw was red .
    Closing the door, I left her in the bathroom and stormed into my den.  I tried every fucking anger management piece of shit step the doctors had shoved down my throat for the last four months, but NOTHING helped.  Explosive rage tore through me and I completely snapped. 
    I could only vaguely remember any of it. 
    It started like a little knot of venom in the pit of my stomach and began eating its way through my body, taking control.  A surge of heat traveled over my skin, making me sweat instantly, and my heart was slamming painfully against my chest, pounding too loud for my ears to take. “BLOODY FUCKING HELL!” I roared, screaming a string of harsh words in my rage until my throat burned and my words ran dry.  Slamming my fists over and over again through the drywall, breaking holes and tearing the flesh of my knuckles until I saw my own blood.  That’s what I was going to do to the motherfucker’s skull when I caught him.  The fucking doctors were going to have to remove my fists surgically from his internal bloody organs, just to bury the cocksucker.  My knuckles burned, stung, and split over and over again as I repeatedly slammed them into everything .  Cartilage snapped and cracked, bones splintered and popped. Yet I felt only numb blinding rage.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear pounding on the door, muffled voices yelling my name, but I was too far-gone.  I wished David was standing in front of me. I wished that I could hurt him every day for the rest of his life.  I wanted to see him bleed and I didn’t care about consequences. I just needed to see the cuts, rake my fingers across his broken flesh, and indulge in