Bursting Killing Intent

With three wide strides, I'm already beside Slim Joe.

I rip his filthy hands away from the little girl and hurl him back.

I don't hold back.

There's a sickening snap.

A piercing scream rips from his mouth.

Good.

Before he can even react, I strike.

My palm slams against his face.

His body flies.

He crashes several feet away, hitting the floor with a brutal thud.

I advance, my mind set on one thing—

Ending him.

Then—

"DON'T KILL HIM!"

Jennifer's voice bursts into my ear.

My fist pauses mid-air.

"He needs to die, Jen," I say, my voice void of warmth.

My knuckles collide with his face—once, twice, again and again.

Jennifer's voice grows frantic.

"Scott, STOP! He CAN'T be dead!"

"He deserves to die."

"NO!" she yells. "Dying isn't a punishment for him!"

I don't answer. I just keep punching.

Jennifer screams.

"STOP IT, SCOTT! PLEASE! You PROMISED ME! YOU PROMISED ME NOT TO KILL ANYMORE!!"

Her voice finally reaches me.

I freeze.

FUCK!! I DID promise her that.

My breath heaves.

Slim Joe's face is a bloody mess, barely recognizable.

I take one slow step back.

Then—

I slam my boot onto his crotch.

His body jerks violently. A mangled cry rips from his throat.

Good. Let him live with that.

I turn and walk away.

-

Later That Night

When I unlock the apartment door, Jennifer is already there.

The moment she sees me, her face pales.

"Did you kill him?" she asks, her voice tight with worry.

I stare at her, expressionless.

Inside, I feel nothing.

"Scott?" she presses, stepping closer.

"No," I answer flatly.

She exhales sharply. "Thank God."

She pulls me into an embrace—but I don't hug her back.

Jennifer notices. She studies my face, concern deepening.

"Are you okay, baby?" she asks gently.

"I should have killed him."

Her brows knit. "No, Scott. You did the right thing."

"I didn't. He deserves to die."

"Who are you to decide that?" she challenges.

"Who is he to think he can do that to those girls?" I shoot back.

"He'll be punished."

I laugh, cold and bitter.

"Oh yeah? You think that'll be enough? You think that'll undo what he did?"

"Killing him won't undo it either."

"At least it would stop him. Permanently."

"But it would keep his name clean."

"Your guys couldn't even get there in time to stop him! And now you expect them to lock him up?"

"We could have!" Jennifer argues. "Until you interfered and ruined the evidence."

"Oh, so it's my fault now?"

"The plan was to let the cops catch him in the act!"

"So you were just going to let him keep going?!"

"NO! We had it timed perfectly!"

"Bullsh*t."

"We did! Until you let your emotions take over!"

I go completely still.

"If stopping those girls from being hurt any further means ruining your evidence," I say, voice low, lethal, final. "Then I'm glad I did it."

Jennifer falls silent.

She just stares at me.

The air between us changes.

Something fractures.

Her face expression changes—but I can't bring myself to care.

I feel nothing.

I step past her.

"I need a shower."

I don't look back.

=

 Inside the Bathroom

I stand frozen in front of the vanity.

My whole body trembles.

Not from exhaustion.

Not from pain.

But from the sheer force of the killing intent churning inside me.

It's cold.

Not an explosive rage, but something far more terrifying.

I don't feel anger.

I just want to kill.

The sensation is alien.

With the dozens of lives I've taken, not once have I felt like this.

Not once did I feel the urge to kill.

But now—

That night, for one split second, I wanted to snap Jennifer's neck.

And that realization scares the hell out of me.

I slowly lift my gaze to the mirror.

My reflection stares back.

Two cold, dark eyes.

Not mine.

Two shades darker, emptier.

I blink.

Nothing changes.

I blink again.

Still empty.

Still monstrous.

Something breaks inside me.

"AAARGH!"

My fist slams into the mirror.

Glass shatters.

Pain splits through my knuckles.

Blood drips onto the sink, but I don't move.

Then—

"Baby!"

Jennifer bursts through the door.

I don't even turn.

I knew she was standing behind the door this whole time.

I knew she was afraid.

Afraid of me.

She freezes when she sees the blood.

"God, Scott—your hand!"

Still, I don't react.

I watch, like an outsider, as she rushes toward me.

She takes my hand, her grip trembling as she carefully pulls out the shards of glass.

Tears stream down her face.

She doesn't wipe them away.

She doesn't care.

She just focuses on me.

And somehow—

Those tears slowly pull me back.

"I'm okay," I whisper.

Jennifer lifts her head.

"You're bleeding," she breathes.

I smile softly.

My uninjured hand reaches up, wiping her tears away.

"Just a little," I murmur.

She stares at me.

Her eyes search mine.

The bleakness is gone.

She throws her arms around me, her grip tight.

She's relieved.

"I'm sorry I scared you," I whisper into her hair.

Jennifer shakes her head.

"No... I'm sorry. I wasn't there. I don't know what you saw. But it must have been horrible to make you lose control."

I don't answer.

I just hold her, rubbing gentle circles along her back.

When she finally finishes cleaning my hand, she moves to leave—maybe to grab bandages.

But I stop her.

I hold onto her waist.

"Jen…" My voice is hoarse. "I… I wanted to kill him. So badly. I've never felt that way before."

Jennifer places a tender kiss on my forehead.

"But you didn't," she whispers.

She kisses me again.

"And I'm so… so proud of you."

I press a soft kiss against her belly.

"I won't let you have a monster as your father, baby girl," I promise.

I know now.

I can't let myself become that thing again. I can't let my daughter to have a monstrous father. 

-

Jennifer bandages my hand, even though we both know it'll heal by morning.

That night, we don't make love.

She's too busy organizing her team, preparing for Slim Joe's takedown.

The cops arrived at the penthouse five minutes after I left.

They found O'Brien writhing in pain in the living room.

They found Slim Joe barely conscious in his bedroom—his face unrecognizable, his crotch crushed beyond repair.

On his filthy hands, they found damning evidence.

The forensics matched.

The two naked girls were clearly drugged.

The residue of sedatives in their drinks confirmed it.

The audio recording from the eavesdrop I planted sealed his fate.

With eyewitness testimonies from the girls, there was no escaping this time.

If this wasn't enough to put Slim Joe behind bars, then I don't know what is.