I went with Croc to drive the crying little slut wherever it was she told him to take her. Mr. J told me "make sure Croc didn't get any ideas." But Croc wouldn't do anything without being told. I didn't know if Mr. J intended for her to make it wherever she wanted to go, but looking back, I'm pretty sure that he knew she wasn't going to.
Mr. J knew I was angry. But not at him. How could I be angry at him? He didn't do anything wrong. She took advantage of him. That's not his fault.
We weren't driving more than five minutes when I couldn't take anymore of her goddamn crying.
"Will you shut the hell up?!" I snapped. "Jesus H. Christ!"
She looked angry just then, like a melting panda with all that makeup, a damn melting panda, I shit you not. She gasped a few times before deciding to lip off. "... how can you sit there and say that to me."
"... excuse me?"
"You shouldn't be defending him! He's a monster!"
"Who do you think you are. Where in the fuck do you get off saying that."
"That bastard raped me!"
That was the last straw. I didn't care anymore whether we were supposed to let her go or not. "Croc, pull over."
"Ms. Quinn?"
"Pull. Over."
"But the boss said-"
I wasn't having any of his bullshit, and pulled my gun. "I said pull over. Now."
Croc knew I wasn't kidding, and he did. When he put the car into park, I told him to stay put, then got out and pulled open the back door. She sniveled, not looking up. Her damn panties were still on the seat, her heels still on the floor. Disgusting little tramp.
"Get out of the car."
"... wh-what?"
"Get out. Of. The car."
She got up, shaky, and stepped around me. She took a few steps, looking around at me, before tottering a little further. I was not about to let her think she was going free. I stuck out a foot, and she went sprawling. I heard her ankle snap as she went down.
Good. Bitch couldn't run.
"Listen here, sugartits," I growled. "My puddin' never ever puts his hands on a woman 'less she's askin' for it. You're lucky he even bothered with you. Fuckin' whore, I bet you liked it."
"You bitch! You're saying I wanted him to rape me?!"
"Course not: no one wants to get raped. That's the whole definition of the word, you stupid bitch."
She just looked at me, with those black-smudged eyes, those streaks all over her cheeks and eyebrows and nose. I thought that she was just gonna keep staring at me. I could've dealt with that. Instead, she spat in my face, and I snapped. I pulled both guns, and just started shooting. Didn't need to aim: didn't care what I hit.
Didn't care how much or how loud the little bitch screamed.
I emptied two whole clips of ammo into her twiggy little body, and when I finally ran out of bullets and took my fingers off the triggers, she was still whimpering and twitching.
"... why... why are you doing this..."
"Because it's stupid bitches like you that give good men like my puddin' a bad name." I put my guns back into their holsters, and out came the knife.
The beautiful switchblade with black and red diamonds etched into the handle, the one Mr. J'd given me back when we first started living together.
My Mr. J taught me exactly how to mark a body up, how to do it slow enough that you get to watch the light leave the eyes of the little pig you're slaughtering. But before you slit the throat, you might do them the kindness of putting a smile on their ugly little face, carve it into those ugly cheeks.
All there was to it.
I got back into the car with Croc staring at me like I was a total stranger, and was actually a little surprised when he said something. "... Ms. Quinn... you... alright...?"
"Shut up and take me home, Croc."
