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Lifting my hammer again, I hit his left hand this time. The sound of his screams is music to my ears. Standing up, I walk slowly around him.
“I have all the time in the world. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
“They will find me. And they will kill you.”
“Is that so? They might have to get in line. The waiting list is quite lengthy,” I say, smirking. Forming a fist, I hit his face. God, that feels good. His face is now bleeding. “Maybe the hammer was too soft for you. That’s my bad,” I say as I grab the pipe wrench. “Maybe this will work better. Let me ask you again. For. Who. Do. You. Work?” I accentuate each of my words. No answer. Not surprising. “Very well. Which hand did you use to stab her?” Silence. “You don’t want to answer? That’s fine. I’ll pick one for you.”
“Va fan culo,” he spits out.
I’m done playing nice. Taking his index finger, I press the tool against it and squeeze until he can feel the pain.
“Oh, but I would much rather get fucked right now. Unfortunately for me, you’re not very cooperative.” I direct my gaze towards Scott and ask, “Is he?”
“No, he is not. And to be honest,” he fakes a yawn, “I’m starting to get a bit bored.”
“You hear him? He is bored. We don’t want to disappoint him, do we?” As I press the wrench against his finger, the loud crack of his broken bone lingers in the air. But I don’t stop there. I press harder until his finger is falling off of his hand. Blood spurts all over us, and his screams are louder than before.
“I think he passed out,” says Scott. “Eww, his finger is on the floor.”
“Seriously? You’re disgusted by his finger?” He had expressed his disgust for fingers before, but come on, it’s a bit excessive. The guy has killed more people than I can count, and he’s disgusted by that?
“What? It reminds me of Thing in the Addams Family. It always creeped me out,” he says, his mouth full of something.
“Are you eating something right now?” I ask him in disbelief.
“Chocolate. Do you want some?” he proposes, pointing his chocolate bar in my direction. I refuse, shaking my head when we hear moans coming from Andrea.
“Welcome back,” I say, “Ready to continue?”
“You won’t get any answers from me.” He groans as he speaks.
“Oh, but I fucking will. So, where were we? Oh aye, I was going to cut off your middle finger.”
“Can I play with him?” asks Scott, which makes me chuckle.
“Maybe later.” I return my attention to Andrea. “What are your plans? Why do you want us dead, and what does it have to do with the women you’ve been trafficking?” My pipe wrench is still in my hand. “Still no answer?” I repeat the same process with his other finger. Except that this time, I decide not to wait and apply more pressure immediately, causing him to wince in agony while the blood starts to gush out of his finger, still attached to my tool. He loses consciousness again. Annoying.
Judging by the sounds coming from him, I’m guessing Scott is repulsed.
“Seriously, I don’t do well with fingers. Same with feet. I find them disgusting.”
“Stop eating chocolate while I’m doing this. Maybe you’ll feel better. Pussy.” I hide my last word in a cough.
Not long after, Andrea stirs awake again.
“Figlio de puttana.” The blood dripping from his mouth makes me smile.
“Are you ready to talk now?” I exchange my wrench with an electric drill. Once he sees it, his eyes grow bigger. “So, who are you working for?” Leaning closer, I turn on the drill, making him jump. When I’m closer to the hand that still has all five fingers, he starts to speak.
“F-Fusco.”
“Fusco, what?” I don’t know why I’m asking because I already know his answer.
“H-he’s the one I’m w-working for. And h-he’s working w-with the S-Snakes,” he admits as he tries to breathe through the pain. Blakely was right all along. She’s always right.
“Why?”
“B-because he w-wants your f-father’s position and the S-Snakes want y-your f-father’s business.” Greedy little bitches.
