WARNING: the next chapter contains Acts of violence and describes gore to a inhanced degree. Read at your own risk.
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The corrupt bastard screamed, shouting at me in anger. Never the best move when your kidnapped. His words didn't hurt though.
"YOU BITCH! LET ME GO! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?"
I laughed at his attempts, I had already tested how far people could hear screams. He wasn't loud enough to be heard down here.
He kept yelling and I just rolled my eyes, waiting for him to stop.
When he didn't, I stood up from my crouched position in front of him. Walking over to the tools I had taken when I kidnapped him. I grabbed the sharpest one, a saw.
I walked over with it. At first when he was screaming it was funny. But now it was plain annoying.
Within seconds I had the saw's tip against his throat, I saw the tension rise up him.
"Shut your mouth."
I didn't care that my voice came out mean. Only wishing for this mans pain. My only thoughts about making him suffer. But insolence made me want him gone.
"Nobody is going to hear you and calling me names just sealed your nasty fate." My voice came out rougher than I had expected.
I pulled his phone out of his pockets and when he tried to protest, the edge of the saw dug into his throat a bit. That shut him up fast. Shocker.
I opened it and there was a code, I rolled my eyes. Looking at him I knew he could tell what I was about to ask.
"What's the code"
His response was quick and sharp. "I'm not telling yo-"
I cut him off before he could finish that sentence. Pressing the saws edge deeper into his throat. I watched as the red of blood spilled down, staining his shirt. "Tell me the fucking code or else you lose your head."
He hesitated, I didn't like that. Before I could do anything, he spoke again. His voice was lower, almost threatening.
"025341"
I smiled, ignoring his threatening tone, knowing he wouldn't do anything about it. Couldn't do anything. Helpless little cop. I quickly typed in the code and it unlocked with ease. I started searching.
His browser history was a joke. Literally searching up medical problems to nasty to repeat. Then therapy for his failing marriage, and of course, "how to hide bruises on children". This sick fuck.
I moved the saw, bringing it down hard on his leg. Blood splattered everywhere as he cried out in agony. I kept searching. Everything.
Eventually I got into his camera roll. Shifting through it looked normal at first. Then it got unsettling.....pictures of children. Some dead. Some crying. Some even looked like victims of sexual assault.
I scrolled, this sick fuck was using these photos as trophies. My mind immediately spoke on my behalf, saying "I'll keep his head as a trophy". But I knew I wouldn't do that.
That's when I saw it....a couple years ago...in his camera. A picture of yuka. Her body. This child's unclothed dead body. My rage built up. A video was right next to it and my blood ran cold when I clicked it. It was him and those other officers laughing in the morgue.
The video kept going. They were laughing at yuka. Pretending to be her. Saying she had asked for everything that happened.
I couldn't take it, but I was smart. I gathered everything, putting it into one simple file. Then? I sent it out. Every single person in the city would know what kind of horrible things this man and his friends had done.
After that I smashed the phone to the ground, stomping on it with my heel. Glass from the screen went everywhere. My eyes looked back at him, he looked terrified. I didn't know why. Maybe he knew what I saw. And I didn't like that.
Within seconds, I broke the chair legs from the chair, sending it tumbling to the ground with him still in it. Then, I cut off one of his legs while he screamed. Making sure to hit the spots it would be the most painful.
He screamed and cried, I smiled down at him and it got worse. Then he yelled out how he was nothing but helpful. A hero in their eyes. But that angered me even more. My voice was ereely calm.
"The ironic thing about life is you're a different person to everyone you meet. To some your quiet, others? You don't stop talking. Some will remember you for kindness. And others for the time you walked away.....let me tell you something. You may be a hero to another. But you can be a villain in someone else's story. "
He didn't understand what I meant, his voice was shaky as he tried to ask me something. But I shut him up, grabbing his throat and slamming his head into the concrete one good time, hearing the crack.
"You vile man. Maybe. You don't remember me because I was a kid. But you made fun of my sister. A fire a couple years back. And now? My justice."
His eyes widened as I said that. Clearly he had never expected me to do anything about what he did. But he was wrong, so very wrong. I was having fun. And I'll be damned if my fun gets snuffed out before Ive had my fill.
I cut his other leg off below the kneecaps, then broke the bone above the knee. Watching him writhe as he screamed. It brought me joy to see that this man was getting what he deserved.
I kept going, cutting down the middle of his stomach. A careful cut that broke all the skin and dug slightly into the muscles. Then, I pulled at the muscles on his ribs, he kept screaming. Tears streaming down his face.
I saw one of the rib bones and smiled. Standing up to go grab some pliers and the knife I had sharpened previously. I came back and hacked at the bone with the knife, then used the pliers to rip it right out of his nasty chest.
Blood was everywhere, the constant rush making it hard to keep him alive. But I managed.
After I did that, I dug deeper into his stomach with the knife, finding his intestines and pulling until one popped right out. I wrapped it right around his throat. Pulling so tight that blood squirted from the organ. His face turned red.
Then I went back in for several minutes while he was still alive, pulling random organs out, moving them, even destroying them. I even carved out his eyes and forced them down his throat. I did the same with his filthy ears and lips. At this point, I could tell he wasn't going to be alive much longer.
I carved out his chest and pulled his heart right out of his chest, the beating slowly stopping when I cut all the nerves still attached, then I smashed it with my own hands.
He was dead. Had probably been dead for minutes. I didn't care. I loved it. Now I wasnt going to stop. I was going to put my work in the open. In fact. I was going to nail him right to the side of the police station.
And that's what I did. Placing his body and severed legs, organs, all of it. Right into the wagon I had brought him in. Careful not to leave any fingerprints behind on the body itself.
I dragged him down to the police station, stopping at his house to grab nails and a hammer from the back shed. The walk to the police station felt like I had finally won.
I watched out for every camera, having mapped it all out in my head. Then, I nailed him up to the side of the wall. I put him in a specific pattern. Every organ has its own nails. I placed the liver I had carved out of his body near his left sides hip. The kidney was near his right hand. The same hand that took the picture of yuka. Then I tightened his intestines around his throat.
I nailed each end to the wall. I put two nails in each arm, four nails in his torso and a long nail through his skull. The blood splattering was the best part.
Finally. His heart. I nailed it right over the middle of his chest. Making sure the whole thing was on display for whoever found him. I admired my work before putting all the tools in the wagon and skipping off down the road, blood still on my clothes.
I eventually stopped to open my notebook. Checking one singular thing off....
✓ officer j. Johnson