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The only way I’ll ever get free is to kill my dad and his psycho sons.
She continues slicing something on the chopping board, using the precision of a sushi chef. I glance over her shoulder to see what she’s cutting, and my heart stops. It’s a severed penis.
“You’re making a sandwich?” I ask, incredulous. She nods.
Deluded as well as dangerous. I should put a bullet through her pretty head before she causes any more mayhem, but I won’t. “Alright then, Little Miss Murderer, get to work.”
She’s like a cat that’s eaten the proverbial canary and gives no fucks that it has feathers sticking out of its jaw. At the third bite, something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us and pry the shit out of her hand. “You are not eating a cock sandwich,” I snarl. “Not in this house.”
“You can’t go around stabbing every man who shows you disrespect,” I say. “Why not?”
She’s breathtakingly angelic and sweet, but with a touch of darkness I can no longer unsee.
She’s an avenging angel, bathed with righteousness and blood.
