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“What? No! Get off me!” he says, but his squeaky voice sounds more like an annoying mosquito, making me wanna lash out.
So I take my knife from my pocket and hold it in front of his face. Then I put my finger in front of my lips and whisper, “Shh …”
His eyes widen, and Brandon grabs his hands and ties them behind his back. Then he drags him off the couch and puts him in a chair, positioning it in the middle of the room.
“Now …” I muse, bending over in front of him to show him the knife. “Let’s try this again. Are you going to tell me where the boy is?”
He shakes his head, but the sweat glistening on his forehead gives him away.
“Wrong answer,” I say, and I kick the chair over, making his head bounce on the carpet. He groans as I tower over him and hold the knife to his throat, pushing deep enough to let out a trickle of blood.
“I know you have him,” I say. “How long are you going to deny it?” I grin. “I can play this game all day. I’ve got time.”
He glances at the doorway and then back at the windows, probably looking for a way out. Does he think the guard from downstairs will come? Tough luck.
I nod at Brandon, who immediately barricades the door with a cabinet.
“There, now we have all the time in the world to play …” I muse, sliding the knife down his throat. “Where should we start?” I ask, pointing it at his heart. “Here?”
He shakes his head. “P-please …”
“Shh,” I whisper, placing a finger on his lips. “No talking unless you’re going to tell us where he is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hisses.
“Of course, you don’t,” I say, smiling again. “That’s why we’re here.”
I move down to his feet and spot an opportunity. “Oh … I know,” I say as a devious grin spreads on my lips. “How about here?”
I hold up his toe for him to see, and he begins to squeal. “No, please, don’t!”
“Are you attached to your toes? Or do you think you could lose a few for the boy?”
“Please! Have mercy!” he begs.
I cock my head. “Now why would I do that?” I stick my knife into the sole of his foot.
He screams so loudly that Brandon immediately smacks him in the face to make him stop, knocking him out for a few seconds. Either that or it was the pain.
“Really, Brandon? I’m trying to work here,” I say, raising a brow.
“Don’t want the rest of the block to call the cops, do ya?” He crosses his arms. “He was screaming like a pig, so I took care of it.”
I roll my eyes. Of course, he did, but I like the screaming. I enjoy the sounds my victims make when they know their end is near … and that they were their own undoing.
Because I don’t just go after anyone.
I only go after the guilty.
I slap the guy to wake him up. “Stay with us now.”
When he coughs, I know he’s back. “Wh-who are you?” he asks, his voice shaky and unsteady. “What do you want from me?”
“You know damn well who we are,” I muse, tapping the mask. “Recognize this?”
His eyes narrow and then widen, and his lips begin to quiver. “You …”
“Yes, it’s me,” I reply, a wicked delight filling my soul.
I love it when they know why I’ve come.
“Now you know you can’t lie to me,” I say, swinging the knife dangerously close to his eyes. “I know you have him, so where are you keeping him?”
He shivers from top to bottom as I draw a line of blood along his thick cheeks.
“We can make this quick or make it last an entire night,” I muse, licking my lips. “Your choice.”
As I lower the knife and hover above his crotch, he breaks.
“All right, all right! He’s in the room, there.” He gazes at a door behind him.
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I muse.
But before I get up, I stick the knife into his big toe. Just to hear him squirm.
“Really?” Brandon says. “Was that necessary?”
A devilish grin spreads across my lips. “Fuck, yes.”
I try to pry open the door, but Brandon has enough after a while and knocks it down with his feet. “That’ll work,” I muse.
“Are you in here?” Brandon calls out to the boy. “Speak up.”
We look around but don’t see anything.
“You’d better not be lying, old man,” I say, gazing at the dude still screaming in the chair.
“You can come out,” Brandon says, looking around. “We won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“We came to punish the man who hurt you,” I add, and I sink to my knees.
That’s when I spot him … hiding under the bed with a dead stare in his eyes. He looks almost feral.
