“You sure about this, Love?” he asked, a hand at his revolver hanging in its red leather shoulder holster.
“It’s all good, Sugar,” she replied, raising the long axe above her shoulder. The overhead light bulb hung from its wire; radiating a bright, painful white.
She watched the man in the chair twitch and tremble with fear. The makeshift blindfold she had fashioned with the man’s own tie prevented the man from seeing, but the man could still hear them. She smugly recalled how the man struggled and whimpered when they came into the room.
Her bare feet made no noise on the concrete floor, but the flat head fire axe she dragged behind her gave out gut-wrenching scrapes with every step she took. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed, his face hidden in shadow. He too barely made any noise.
The man in the chair had given up on struggling his way out of his binds. The man’s wrists were chafed from the effort and his voice hoarse from screaming. As far as she was concerned, the man deserved what was coming. A bullet to the head was too quick, too painless for what he had committed. A swindler, a pervert – a sinner. He had his fun long enough. She caught the sicko in his act; another lost, drugged up girl tumbling into some hellhole with him leading the way. She couldn’t save the young girl now, but getting this scum off the street was a step forward.
The axe fell, its dead-weight momentum increased with her swinging it down, down onto the man’s head. The man’s skull split open with a sickening crack, like a coconut hacked open with a cleaver. A loud gurgle escaped the man, a final attempt at a scream? The man’s body convulsed at the impact, then sort of sagged in place. The blood and brain didn’t start spurting until she tried to pull the axe out.
Sugar clicked his tongue and slowly sauntered over to his Love. Her pretty pink dress was starting to take on quite a bit of an unsightly stain. The diamond cuff he had stolen for her still sparkled, even through a layer of bastard blood sprayed all over it. He wrapped his arms around from behind her and gripped her hands gently but firmly. The axe came clean away with a jerk and a step back. A slop of head fell to the floor. Splat.
She exhaled. “Oh damn!” she cried out, noticing her dirtied jewelry. Sugar chuckled. She sighed and rested the head of the axe beside her foot. “He dead?” she gestured to the man in the chair. What was left of the man anyway. Sugar contemplated. “Doubt he’s got enough brain left to tell, Love,” he replied.
She swayed slightly in his arms; not from nausea, but from the thrill, the satisfaction. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, steadying the both of them. Her face held its usual tired expression, but the seething madness still glinted in her beautiful dark eyes. His Love. What wouldn’t he do for her?
She caught his affection draping over her. “Now see here, sugar. It don’t do you good to keep lookin’ at me like that,” she warned. Her hand came up to wipe away a smudge of blood that had splattered to the corner of her mouth, but he caught it.
Her Sugar nudged it off with his lips; and they kissed deeply, blood flowing off the blade of her axe.