7.1

The night wears on in the same pattern. Amber and Emma dancing, me hydrating them and puffing on endless cigarettes, and Summer watching over me like she’s my guardian. It’s like she knows what I’m thinking before I think it. Luckily, I love her to bits, or else I’d tell her to back the fuck up. But I know she only has the best intentions and is always watching out for me.

My gaze catches a movement at the table where the others sit.

Memories of a darkened room, the smell of mold, and hints of rotting human flesh invade my thoughts. The sound of my mom shrieking in agony and begging them to let me go and not harm me. Her cries having gone on deaf ears as the fucker slammed his fist into my stomach again and again until I was curled into a ball on the dirty floor. My anger twists inside me, like a coiling viper ready to strike.

I grab Summer’s hand to get her attention. “Listen to me. If I’m not back in ten minutes, please take these two and get the fuck out of here. Call a cab now and have it waiting outside.”

Summer stares at me, her furrowed eyebrows creating worry lines on her perfect face. She nods, instantly understanding what I need. “Got it,” She squeezes my hand and doesn’t let go as I try to leave the table. “Let me help you.”

“I got this.” I wink in return and beeline for the bathrooms, even though I know she will bundle the girls in the car and come try to save me from myself.

The stench of male piss wafts up my nose almost making me gag. Why does a men’s urinal always stink so bad? I turn the corner and watch my prey enter a cubicle and close the door after him. The rest of the cubicles are empty, and I decide to hover near the entrance, waiting for him to finish his business and exit.

My hand lazily brushes over the knife strapped to my thigh. Security at the front door is a little too lenient in this place, which has worked to my advantage. I wait and tap my fingers against the knife handle, counting down the seconds like a ticking time bomb. I hear him clear his throat before the flush of the toilet fills the silence. He emerges and doesn’t even bother to do up his zip, completely unaware of my presence. I calculate his steps to the washbasin.

Three.

Two.

One.

He turns his head toward me. “I think you have the wrong restroom, sweetheart.” His gaze trails knives over my exposed skin. The dirty fucker makes my skin crawl.

“No, I have the right one, sweetheart.” I take a step further into the room.

He ignores me, finishes washing his hands, and turns to make his way to the paper towel dispenser, his designer Italian shoes clicking on the concrete floor. The bastard is decked out in expensive jeans and an Armani shirt. His boss must be paying him too much.

He turns and studies me for a moment, his eyes raking over me once more, his mouth twitches in appreciation. “Like that is it? Are you after a quick fuck?”

“No,” I reply with fake nonchalance. My rage burning inside me, licking and singeing my last threads of vehemence.

“Not what it seems like to me, sweetheart.” He moves to tower over me, stopping just inches away. He’s so close I can see the long scar that runs from his eyebrow down to his chin, a scar I’d like to decorate with my own blade.

I keep my gaze steady, meeting his eyes, and daring him to touch me. My knife is already unclipped and waiting in my grip ready to use.

“Tell me, what do you want then?” He runs his pointer finger down my left arm. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and his sweet cologne masks the potent stench of piss circling us.

“To kill you,” I say deadly serious.

“To kill me,” he repeats, smirking. “Sweetheart, as cute as you are, I doubt you could do anything but choke on my cock.”

My perfect composure comes undone at his statement. I swing my arm up and stab him in the side of the throat, catching him off guard. His hands fly up and grip the blade, pure evil reddening his eyes. He looks like a bull ready to pierce me with its horn. He lunges forward and grabs both my arms, throwing me into the basin.

I hear the basin crack under the sheer force, and I crash to the piss soaked floor with the basin landing next to me. Agony rips through my right thigh as the fucker stands over me, his bloodied hand gripping the blade still stuck in his neck. He knows better than to remove the blade for fear of bleeding out.

I grin up at him, satisfaction coating me knowing he isn’t going to survive much longer with the color of his lips. A second later I get to a squatting position and swing out my leg, swiping his out from under him and watch him land like a sack of shit on his side. A low moan followed by a hiss escapes his lips as he tries to grab at me.

“Try again, fucker.” I jump to my feet and dodge his hand.

I’m grabbed from behind in a chokehold so tight I can barely breathe. My fingernails claw at his arm to no avail. I try with all my strength to throw him forward and off me, but he must be built like a fucking brick wall because he doesn’t budge. I slam my stiletto into the top of his shoe causing him to lose balance slightly, but his grip never wavers, and I start to see stars. With all my strength I lunge forward, dragging him with me until I’m closer to the basins. I brace one leg up onto the edge and push backward, throwing my head into his chin.

I hear him grunt as he loses his footing and we both go down, his arm still firmly strangling me until he hits the concrete floor with a thud, and the air wooshes out of him.

I rip his arm off me and scramble off the floor unceremoniously, my dress up around my waist. The familiar and distinct sound of a silencer echoes through the concrete room making me duck for cover. I slice my eyes to the entry to see Summer holding a handgun, pointing it at the fucker who had me in a chokehold. My brain falters for a split second as I take in the dead guy, with one bullet wound right between his eyes.

Summer rushes to me. “Are you hurt?” She scans me and runs her free hand over me to pull down my dress.

In the haze of the last few seconds, I completely lost track of the other bastard with my knife still in his neck. “I’m okay.” I nod. My eyes search the room for my revenge.

“He slid into the cubicle,” Summer points the gun at the far end of the bathroom. “Come on. We have to go.”

“Give me a second,” I stalk towards the smear of blood and follow it to the closed cubicle. My heart beats steady in anticipation, saliva pooling under my tongue at the thought of finally ticking another fucker off my list. “You better be fucking dead.” I kick the door open.

He slumps against the toilet with his legs sprawled out in front of him, his breaths shallow. Blood pulses out of his stab wound and flows over his neck, soaking his clothes. “Should have kept it in, dipshit.”

“Fuck you,” he sputters, blood bubbling out of his mouth.

I squat down next to him. “Nope. But I do have one more little surprise for you and the best part is you’ll never know why I’ve done this. You and the rest of them will all pay. One by one.”

He looks at me then, His eyes study me, and recognition burns through his soul. Before he can gather the strength to speak again, I slide out the blade concealed in my Louboutin and yank down his boxers. I grant him an evil smirk as I slice off his dick in one swift motion.

I pull his chin down, open his mouth, and shove his dick in. “Choke on it yourself.”

I hear a gasp behind me and remember Summer is here. Fuck. I slowly stand and hope she didn’t witness me do that. I turn around and she composes herself.

“We have to go,” she says with urgency.

“Summer,” I try to explain, but she cuts me off.

“No need to explain. Let’s just get the fuck out of here before the others find us.”

I look at her and how calm and collected she is. Not a judgemental bone in her body. Her eyebrows shoot up in an attempt to hurry me, and I dart to the basins to wash the blood off my blade and hands. “Where’s Emma and Amber?” I squat and put my knife back into my shoe.

“Waiting out the front. Here, let me clean you up a little. You look like you got a good dicking in here,” she smirks at me as she attempts to make me presentable again.

“Have I ever told you that I fucking love you?” I wrap my arm around her neck and squeeze her to me.

“I got you, boo.” She hugs me back before lifting her dress, pulling the silencer off the gun, and placing them both in her thigh holster. “Lucky for us, they don’t pat you down on entry.” Summer winks.

“I’m not even going to ask why you thought you needed that, but I’m so fucking thankful for you right now.” I grab her hand and we casually exit the restroom and head out the front like nothing sinister happened.