“Did you kill him?” This question is choking me, I feel like my throat is one squeeze away from caving in on itself.
“That isn’t the question I will answer today,” he says right as the door opens and low and behold it’s Finley.
“Hate to cut the party short but we have a development,” Dante is staring at me, what question am I supposed to ask? Although it looks like Finley has robbed me of my chance to even ask anything now.
I hate how much I want Dante to stay, all because I can’t bear to be alone right now.
THE SUN HAS DESCENDED and ascended at least twice since they chained me up. What are they planning to do? I haven’t eaten anything and my lips are so dry they crack deeper every time I move them. If this is the way they plan to kill me, then yeah they win because I can’t think of anything worse than starving and dehydrating to death. If they don’t come back soon, then my stomach is going to turn into something out of a horror movie and start eating itself.
Thank fuck the door is opening, I feel so pathetic right now getting excited over the prospect of seeing someone. Even if it is my kidnappers and future murderers.
Dante is walking
down the stairs, my heart beating in time to his steps. He has something behind his back and I’m so fucking nervous. What if it’s a gun?
“Food and drink, can’t have you dying before we’re ready,” he says, thrusting them at me as he pulls up his chair and sits down.
“Did you have a think about the question you should ask?” There he goes again, cocking his head to the side.
“Did you kill Elliott?” That is all I want to know right now, what does he think I’m going to bloody ask?
“Wrong question, three strikes and then I break your good wrist,” he’s looking at his phone while threatening me, I wonder if anything will ever be able to reach him. Can he feel anything?
“Why are you doing this?”
“Strike two pretty girl,” his hand moves faster than the crack of a whip as he squeezes my wrist, last guess and I guess I better make it good.
“What did Elliott do for me to deserve this?” My entire body is quaking in fear and my voice is nothing more than a quivering mess.
“Well done now you’re using that pretty little head of yours, I guess you’re getting your prize,” his grip relaxes right as he grabs three of my fingers and pulls them back, I feel and hear the bones snap.
My scream is all encompassing, and it’s rebounding around the room like a tragic melody, the acoustics are amazing. I want to cry, scream and maybe laugh a little, fuck me I’m losing my mind.
“I didn’t ask wrong,” it pours out as I drop to my knees and cradle my hand against my chest.
“You’re right, that’s why I did not break your wrist. But I had to do something, they’re not paying me to reveal secrets, no they want you to suffer,” he snakes out for my fingers once more and snaps them back to their correct position, enticing more screams from my cracked throat.
The psychopath pulls out a bottle of water, shows me the seal is intact before cracking it and passing it over. I want to be stubborn and refuse it, but I can’t, not this time at least.
“Elliott joined a group who wanted to be in control, they claimed to have morals but what gang can say that and be honest at the same time. The problem was he took something that wasn’t his and my current bosses did not like that and then the gunshots started and a promising young man ended up in an institution.” He’s tilting his chair back, balancing it perfectly. I wonder if his face has ever sported a single line or wrinkle? “Elliott is not here, but you are. Someone has to pay and they don’t care if you’re innocent or not. You share the same last name and they couldn’t reach your parents, if only they hadn’t run away you may have reached your nineteenth birthday this year,” he tuts as he shakes his head and I know I would laugh if it wasn’t for the excruciating pain in my hand.
“You would not have gone for my parents, you could have back when they were here but instead it was all focused on me,” my voice is rising but I can’t stop it, the pain and anger is fuelling me.
“You were an easier target, proximity wise, and it’s harder to target a solicitor although not impossible. It’s funny how he got whisked away to America, isn’t it,” he says with a raised eyebrow before standing up and going back up the stairs. What the fuck was that supposed to mean, is he behind my dad being sent away and if so, why?
I GUESS I’m nothing more than a zoo exhibit at the moment, maybe I shouldn’t flip the camera off with my still good fingers but why the fuck not? Chucking food down at me and standing at the top of the stairs glaring is no better than sending him down to break a bone or two. Some people may not agree with me, but I’d love to see how they would react or think in this situation.
And sure I’m arguing with myself, but who else is there? My dead brother or maybe my dead boyfriend, because I have to be honest with myself, I can’t see how Harrison made it out alive. Great, now I’m crying, the one thing I said I wouldn’t do.
“Just kill me already,” I scream at the top of my lungs, it’s what, been four days, and it has already been too long.
Oh the dreaded creak of the door, I don’t even have to look up to know it’s bloody Dante. The air has been sucked out of the room and the chill that always follows him is already working its magic. It’s almost, enjoyable. I am so fucked up!
“Do you have your next question for me?” He asks as he pulls his chair out and throws a bottle of water right at my head.
“Finley says you need to drink, apparently I should realise that fact myself. I don’t usually have to make my victims comfortable, so how am I faring so far?” Head cocked to the side, check. Voice lacking any emotions, check. I would love to get inside his head, although I doubt I’d survive the experience.
“You suck donkey dick, stick to your usual methods unless you want me to die from dehydration,” I retort, rolling my eyes and his hand leaves a stinging sensation across my cheek and I can feel the blood running down my face. He split my skin. What the hell?