Page 302 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

John sighed. “Hurry, Pink. It’s been a while since he’s seen any kind of light.”

“Gotta find the fucking switch, boss—oh, there it is.”

Instantly, the warehouse was lit up by huge overhead lights that were almost as bright as the goddamn sun. It even made John squint a bit, and he knew what was coming. In the middle of the warehouse, sitting in a pool of his own piss, excrement, vomit, and water that had been thrown on him occasionally was the Capo from the hospital.

The same man who had dared to speak out against John when he could have just as easily stepped back into his place. He was sure the Capo thought John just planned to kill him, but nothing was ever that simple.

At the bright lights overhead—the first time the man had seen any kind of light since that day a week ago—the Capo withered away from the brightness. He still wore his soiled clothing he had been brought in with, although, now also with the added accessories of chains that kept him locked in a spread eagle position on the warehouse floor.

In that pile.

Shit. Piss. Vomit. Water.

It was undignified, really.

Well, he had called John a disgrace. John just figured the Capo would appreciate a better understanding of what it felt like to have his dignity taken away altogether. The man had not been touched. Not beaten, or otherwise.

Not yet.

“Jesus, just kill me,” he mumbled from the floor.

“Stop being dramatic, Roy,” John murmured. “It’s just a little light.”

That probably felt like needles stabbing into the man’s eyes.

“Why won’t you just kill me?”

“This is better—more amusing,” John supplied. “I was curious how much I could take away from you before you finally broke. I refused you light, food, and other than the warehouse, you have no real shelter. I took away your voice, as you can no longer communicate with anyone who will listen, or anyone who cares to. I removed your dignity the first time you pissed yourself, and I took your honor when you begged to be killed. Welcome to the land of the disgraced, Roy. We’re a very pleasant bunch. I assure you.”

“You’re … you are …”

“Come on, find a noun or even an adjective to use. Pick one.”

The man stammered on more.

John only nodded to himself.

Almost over.

Stepping back a few paces, John bent down to dig through the bag Pink had set aside. He pulled out a few items—a knife, ice pick, and two small handguns. John much preferred something a little heavier when it came to guns. An Eagle was perfect, but these would do the trick.

Keeping the items hidden at his back, John moved closer to Roy again. “I will let you clean up, and give you clothes. You will sit in a chair, and say exactly what you are told to say. And should you disobey, or fight, I will start with the ice pick. It will remove your ability to walk when I break it through your kneecaps before I start removing the tips of your fingers with a knife. Do you understand?”

Wild, terrified eyes stared back at John from the floor.

He only smiled.

“Wh-what?” Roy stammered.

“You will do as you are told, or for the unforeseeable future, this will be your life now. Darkness, humiliation, and pain. I won’t kill you, no, but I will have someone come in everyday to remind you of why you should have simply listened to me in the first place. I will feed you just enough to keep you alive, and then make you wish you would die every single day for the rest of your life. You can choose allowing your wife to get your remains back a battered, unrecognizable mess, or something far easier to understand.”

Roy gaped.

“Do you understand?” John asked, bringing the ice pick out to swing it back and forth. “Well?”

Weak men were predictable.

Roy was a weak man.

“Y-yes, I understand.”

Just a little longer, Andi.