Free The Goodbye Man by A. Giannoccaro, Mary E. Palmerin Page A

and chest, weeping crimson liquid.
    “They die.”
    This is a game. One I hope to win. Piss him off enough to kill me. Ha, if only it were that easy.
    “Ahhhh, kisa… in your dreams.” he murmurs.
    He steps on my right knee, forcing my legs to stay open. Silly Pavel. If he only realized how weak I truly am, I have no choice but to endure what he gives me. He takes his leather belt above his head with a grin full of malice and strikes it on my already damaged pussy. I try to scream, but my voice is mute. I open my mouth, but the overwhelming pain that I feel is wrapping me up, suffocating me and making me understand that I am still among the living at the hands of a madman.
    Strike.
    “Bad pussy. Bad whore.”
    He says it so frankly, like he has done this dozens of times before. Who am I kidding, he has raped and murdered before. I watched him kill my mother at four years old before throwing her body in a dumpster off Hunts Point Boulevard. First memories always hold great meaning to people; unfortunately for me, mine meant that the only love I had ever felt was siphoned and stolen away from me unjustly.
    Silent tears stream down my bruised and cut up face, stinging it with its meaninglessness.
    Strike. Tear.
    I feel blood seeping out of me again and all I can hope for is for this to be the last time. The last time to feel something so horrible. I count the seconds and pray for blackness. Heaven, hell, or even nothingness would suffice, yet I am still breathing in this dilapidated apartment room.
    “Where’s Big Daddy when ya need him, kisa? Blood and gore he like with his whore,” Pavel bites, then barks in laughter.
    “Kill me. Please. Please,” I whimper, breathless and out of energy.
    “You only wish, kisa. Where is my boy, Juan?”
    Mr. Dark and Dangerous, who are you and why haven’t you come to save me?
    I don’t provide him with an answer. He doesn’t deserve it.
    “Kisa, you get hurt much worse if you don’t speak.”
    I stare up at the ceiling, counting the watermarks that are beginning to melt into one another. There is a large crack in the corner and I’m surprised that it isn’t gaping open from the water dripping inside slowly.
    “Burn, you will burn, kisa.”
    Deliver me to hell. Even that is better than this place.
    I hear the click of his lighter again as I continue to stare at the ceiling. Something hot gets nearer to my skin, to the place that belongs to Pavel, not me. I used it without permission and now he is going to make me pay. Today, I will be thrown into the fire alive as I beg for death.
    The scorching hot flame makes its way to my pussy lips, burning the sparse hair I have down there away, since I am marked with scares from the constant abuse I have endured over the years. The stench is too much. My eyes burn and water and my belly is turning in an agonizing way. I grasp onto the moist, molded carpet so hard, I feel my nail crack.
    “Dirty, dirty cunt. You smell like shit. No one would want you anymore anyway, whore. You be branded for life. Trash.”
    The fire melds itself with my pussy lip, searing through my skin. The boiling sensation is too much. I am praying, begging, and pleading to both God and Lucifer for death, yet they don’t give it to me. Instead, I am surrounded by the echoing of Pavel’s demonic cackles. I clutch onto the dirty carpet harder, breaking another nail, feeling the blood rush through my fingertips.
    I feel the fire cease from my skin only for an instant. I lazily lift my chin up to see Pavel between my legs, wiping his forehead free from sweat. He flicks the lighter on again until the orange flame is brought to life. He smiles at his act. My head falls back as he grabs the other side of my pussy lip, bringing the fire-hot flame onto my skin. My chest gurgles and pain starts to leave me. My eyes are becoming harder and harder to move and I allow my fingers to relax and settle on top of the wet carpet.
    I still feel the little movements underneath me