Redeeming Logan

Chapter Three

Logan

S tanding against the wall of Headmaster Pickett’s office, I stare at the blubbering couple seated in front of his desk. The woman thinks she’s entering her daughter into a facility for treatment of her depression, but the man next to her knows better. He pretends to wipe away tears as he clutches his wife's hand tight in his and whispers sweet things to ease her mind. But I know the truth. I know that the man is selling his daughter away to pay off their enormous debt.

Their daughter is seated on the other side of the room in a straight jacket and drugged out of her mind. She has no idea what kind of hell awaits her. That’s the only reason I’m even here. The resident doctor to “treat” these patients with all of their ailments. The woman thinks her daughter will be lying on a couch multiple times a week, professing her sins to me as I take notes. But the man? He knows that she may be lying on a couch… In pieces. Broken and bloody for my own amusement.

“We just want her to be normal again, Mr. Pickett.” The man says with fake sorrow in his voice. “Please, sir, we have heard so many amazing things about your facility, and we know you can help our daughter.”

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Randall, your daughter is in safe hands here with Dr. Logan.” Mr. Pickett says with a smile on his face as he hands the man additional papers to fill out. The papers that he will sign to seal his daughter's fate with me.

I wait until Mr. Randall has signed all of the necessary papers and stacks them back on the desk neatly. He pulls his wife into his side and shushes her, telling her that everything will be okay. Everything will be far from okay, but she doesn’t need to know that. Mr. Pickett nods his head at me, and I step forward.

"As Mr. Pickett has stated, you don’t need to worry about sweet Abigail. We thrive on bringing our patients to new heights. People from all over the country travel to this facility to seek the care their family members need. Harmony Heights is the number one therapy testing site in the country. Bring in the people who need us the most, and leave them with your favorite host." I finish with a sickly sweet smile as I reach my hand down extended to Mr. Randall. He grasps my hand in his and shakes it firmly.

He tugs his sobbing wife out of the chair towards Abigail, and they both say their goodbyes. Abigail’s eyes are vacant, and her head is lolled to one side. A bit of drool has collected in the corner of her mouth. Her mother and father kiss her cheeks, whispering well wishes to her before Mr. Pickett ushers them both out of the office, leaving me with sweet Abigail.

She’s a pretty little thing. Barely 5ft with mousy brown hair and brown eyes. Her lips are a pretty rosy pink that I bet matches her nipples. I walk closer to her, stopping directly in front of her. Trailing my fingers through her silky hair, I imagine it caked with blood and sweat. Trailing my hands down her cheek to her cracked lips, I slip a finger between them. Her tongue is warm and wet against my finger. She’s so out of it she just lets me do it. I like it when they are more lively. Fighting for their lives.

“Oh, sweet Abigail, I wonder just how far you will get. Will you get farther than the last? Or will you give up quicker than the others? I guess we’ll find out soon.”

“ Ahhh, please, sir! Please stop, please! ” The beautiful screams of Abigail ring through the room just like I thought that they would. Bouncing off of the steel walls and echoing back. I throw my shoulders back, relishing in the sounds coming from her pretty mouth. “ Please, I’ll do anything, sir! I swear it! I’ll even suck y-y-your dick for you!”

Now that makes me chuckle. Like I’d ever let her come near my dick. After I lost my last Little Lamb, I vowed that no one would come near my cock unless it’s my Little Lamb . Whoever that may be. I know she’s out there somewhere.

Picking up the nail gun from the tray, I make my way over to Abigail’s feet, running my other hand down her body as I go. Her skin is silky and smooth in spots and rough in others. She’s not perfect, which bothers me. My Little Lamb would be perfect, and this girl is not it.

“Sweet Abigail, how can I stop now when you have yet to repent your sins? Your parents left you here for being a sinning whore. You give your pussy out to any man who asks for it. Lending your mouth and ass out as well just for fun, right? But that’s not all you do, is it, Abigail? Drowning your sorrows in booze because you can’t handle the guilt your sins have made you feel. I think it’s time you feel the repercussions of your actions.” I smirk at her as I position the nail gun to the top of her foot and pull back on the trigger. Within a second, a nail is sticking out of her foot.

It takes Abigail a few seconds to register what just happened but as soon as she feels it, she lets out a scream louder than the last. Piercing my ear drums with a most euphoric pain. I move around the table to her other foot and press the trigger again, watching as her perfect skin splits and bleeds from the new accessory she now adorns.

Continuing up her right leg and thigh, I get the most brilliant idea, and it makes me chuckle darkly to myself. I move around the other side of the table to her left thigh and position the gun against it. Swiftly and harshly, I brandish her with nail after nail. When her screams become weak little moans, I know that my fun is about over. I look down at my new masterpiece.

Not Her shines back at me from her thigh. The heads of the nails are a perfect contrast to her skin. Blood pooling around them, connecting the nails, and making the phrase easier to read. I let out a soft sigh as I peek up at a motionless Abigail.

Leaning up with my hand, I check her pulse on her neck, and nothing beats back at me. Pressing my ear down to her chest, it’s also silent. I look up at the clock by the girl, and it reads six o’clock PM. She lasted three hours, not nearly as long as the others, but this was the first time I used the nail gun on someone. I knew she wasn’t my new Little Lamb, so I didn’t even care to try to keep her alive.

Listening to Vanessa’s quiet snores echo through the room makes my heart jump. She looks so peaceful, and I almost hate to wake her up for this session. I use the word almost loosely because I’ve been crawling out of my skin to get my hands on her again. Hurting her is almost like an addiction. Something I need in order to get through the day. Why won’t she just give in? After everything I’ve done to her this far, you’d think she’d break. She’s strong, my little lamb, stronger than her mother. Stronger than any other woman who’s been in here.

I lean over and tap Vanessa’s face, rousing her from her deep sleep. She twitches on the table, pulling at the restraints that cut into her wrists and ankles. Slowly, her eyelids peel open and flutter in the bright overhead lights. Letting out a sigh of annoyance, she looks up at me with hatred.

“Seriously? What is it today, Doctor? Whipping? Cutting? Or are you going to rape me this time?” Drops of spittle land on my face as she spits the words at me. Letting out a chuckle, I just stare at her naked body, making her squirm uncomfortably. “Quit looking at me like that, you creep! Just do what you brought me here for already!” Her voice cracks at the end as she tries desperately to keep her tears at bay.

Walking over to the metal tray beside her, I pick up a scalpel and walk to her side. Peering down at her I frown with disappointment. “Vanessa, you make me sad. I thought that we would both enjoy our time together, but you make it seem like such a burden to be here with me. All I want is for you to obey and be my perfect little lamb.”

“I will never be your little lamb! I don’t care what you do to me.” She says through gritted teeth. If looks could kill, my heart would stop beating now.

Grasping the scalpel in my hand, I lean over her pelvis and peer back up at her. “I’ll make you my little lamb whether you want to be or not. You are mine, and I intend to make sure that you finally realize that.”

Making the first slice in her skin, the blood bubbles to the surface beading there for a few seconds before dripping down her skin. After the first letter is complete, she starts to struggle in the restraints. Continuing on to the next letter, I apply more pressure than needed because she just won’t stop moving around. “Vanessa, I need you to be very still for me. I want this to look pretty just for you. Struggling around like a willy worm will make it look sloppy and ugly.” She instantly stills beneath my hands, which makes a smile spread across my face. I finish up the last few letters quickly and step back, admiring my artwork.

Lamb stares back at me, bloody and perfect on her pelvis. Vanessa is breathing heavily but is otherwise silent, refusing to look down at her new accessory. Stepping back up to her, I grab her hair in my fist and force her to look down at my masterpiece. We sit there in silence until a whimper, then a sob works their way out of her. Little tears start to drip from her chin and roll down her chest.

"See, I told you, it's beautiful, isn’t it? You are my little lamb after all, Vanessa. So perfect, and so mine. ”

My favorite memory of my time with Vanessa replays in my mind as I walk over to the table and pick up the electric handsaw. I turn it over in my hands as I reminisce on our time together before making my way back over to Abigail’s chest. Switching it on, I bring it down across her chest, and blood splatters me and the walls. It’s a mess, a beautiful mess. Once her shoulders are separated, I reach in and tug out her heart.

Warm and still in my hands, hoping it will beat just once for me because that’s one of my favorite parts of this whole process. Holding their final sign of life in the palm of my hand. Letting out a disgruntled sigh, I make my way to my treasure trove and shove the silent heart into its own jar of liquid. Giving it one last look, I make my way out of the room. Not even bothering to clean up the blood covering my body.