Ivy's Venom (Whitsborough Progenies) by C.A. Rene (rocket ebook reader .TXT) 📕

my eyes never leaving Dean’s face. His eyes are pleading with me and I can’t muster up a bit of remorse. I remember begging him to stop and pleading with him not to hurt me, he never listened.

Mom straps his other arm to the chair and then she’s methodically cutting away his dress shirt with her knife, revealing his chest that’s dusted with black and gray hairs. Dean is handsome in a sinister looking way. His hair is jet black and he is graying at his temples, his eyes are a dark brown, and his skin is pale like wax paper. He takes care of his physique because he’s not fat, but he’s not built either.

She bares his chest and then presses the tip of the blade to his skin, the indent cushioning around the edge.

“Look,” he begins to plead again. “I will leave the country and never come back again.”

“But you’ll still be a child raping piece of shit.” Mom says. “You won’t be able to control yourself.”

“Give me the knife.” My voice is sure and strong, but my arm shakes when I extend it.

I have so much energy coursing through me and I can’t seem to keep it contained. I want to make Dean bleed and see how close in colour his blood really is to that tie. I want him to cry and beg me to stop, and then I want to do it all again.

Mom hands it over without complaint and begins to stroke the hair on top of Dean’s head.

“She didn’t want to hurt you coming in here.” She mutters to him, “I think the sight of you and how weak you look is pushing her to do it.”

“Don’t do it, Ivy.” Tears roll down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. “You’re not a murderer.”

“Don’t say my name!” I scream as I grip the knife in my hand.

I walk forward and he kicks out his foot, trying to hit my legs. The movement shocks me and I stab the blade down into his thigh. The scream he makes is exhilarating and the blood soaking into his pants is mesmerizing.

I pull the blade out and cringe when blood begins to squirt out quickly.

“Looks like you hit an artery,” Mom chuckles. “He’ll bleed out soon, what else do you want to do?”

“This isn’t you.” Dean pants, “you’re not strong enough to live with this.”

“Shut up.” I shove the knife forward and it slices through the skin of his stomach like butter, sinking to the hilt. His blood is warm as it coats my fist and he grunts, but I can see he’s quickly dying.

With each stab, I imagine all the things he did to me and release them. This is my revenge and Dean can no longer haunt me.

“He’s almost dead.” Mom states as his head falls forward, the tie choking him. She holds out her hand and I pass her the knife.

She pulls his head back up by his hair and his eyes are nearly shut, unfocused. She watches my face as she brings the sharpened edge of the blade to his throat and presses in, dragging it just under the tie. Blood flows out from his throat and down over his chest, blending beautifully with the tie.

“I hope you rot in Hell,” I snarl.

Mom undoes my belt from around his arm and hands it back to me, it’s glistening with his blood.

“There you go, baby.” She smiles. “Now you have your own memento.”

Mom is training with Carmelo and she’s kicking his ass, even though he’s all fiery and angry. She just keeps whipping his back to the mat and dancing circles around him. It’s been two hours since we killed Dean and I am petrified about the police.

Mom assured me nothing would happen but I’m still scared and it’s hard to concentrate on what’s going on.

“You okay?” Uncle Trent asks as he sits beside me.

Am I okay? Yes, I’m better than what I was before, but I’m now scared for different reasons.

“Will we get arrested?” I whisper.

“No,” he chuckles and shoulder bumps me. “We own the cops here.”

Oh.

“I’m proud of you for sticking up to him and I want you to know I removed all the photos and videos he had of you.” He lets out a large breath, “I wish you would’ve told me when I went to see you.”

“I couldn’t at the time,” I mumble, “I thought I deserved it.”

He pulls me in for a hug and kisses the top of my head, “you won’t hide that shit again though because now you are Black Slaughter.”

“That’s Mom.” I look up at him.

“No, that’s the both of you.”

I don’t know why my heart warms at the prospect and maybe I am twisted in the sense that I like killing, but only if it’s justified.

“I used to kick your father’s ass on these very mats, too.” Mom says as she hugs a panting Carmelo. “You remind me a lot of him.”

“Thank you, Aunt Ember.” He grins.

Then he turns and I don’t miss the look he gives Uncle Trent’s daughter. She’s a few years younger than us but she looks like a tough bitch. I remember her a bit but I don’t know her well.

“If your cousin keeps eyeing Catalina, I am going to murder him.” Uncle Trent growls and I laugh.

I don’t bother to watch Mom’s match, I’m fucking exhausted and I don’t want to see anymore violence. I think I’ve seen enough. I get to the small room where I will be sleeping and it’s across from Mom’s. I flop on the bed and finally open my phone noticing the battery is running low. I didn’t bring a fucking charger and I know I will need to text Neil before it dies. I open up my messages to a few from him.

Neil: Good morning.

Neil: Hello?

Neil: Is everything okay?

Neil: I’m calling your house.

Neil: Spoke to your dad… call me when you can.

Me: Sorry Mom dragged me on an impromptu trip to New