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It feels like it takes James an eternity to cut Asad’s clothing off and I find myself praying that he’ll both never finish and hurry up. I can’t decide if I want to continue to prolong this or just get it over with.
Once the last bit of fabric falls away, James steps back and Simon’s eyes roam over Asad’s naked body.
If I didn’t hate his fucking guts, I’d probably feel some pity for Asad. Without his clothing, all his small, shriveled dangling bits are exposed to the world.
Some men look stronger, more beastly when they’re naked, like Simon. While others look softer and weaker.
Looming over Asad, Simon looks like a fucking lion about to devour a pale hippo.
“James, I’m going to need you to hold his head still for me.”
With some more muttering and grumbling, James moves to the head of the table and grabs Asad by the sides of his head.
Asad bucks and thrashes again, and James’s jaw clenches as he uses the brute strength in his arms to hold him still.
Simon bends over Asad’s body and my view is obstructed, but I can see his arm moving in short, sharp motions.
Asad starts to groan and cry out behind his gag.
When Simon finally pulls away, there’s so much blood pouring down Asad’s face I can’t tell what the hell he did to him.
“Okay, James, you can let go now,” Simon says and lowers the blade.
“Thank fuck,” James says and leans back. Reaching up, he wipes the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm.
Simon turns away, sets his bloody knife on top of the tool box and turns back just in time to catch James taking a step back.
“I’m not done with you yet, James,” Simon sneers.
“Fuck. What do you want me to do now?”
Simon grabs Asad by the cheeks and says, “I want you to very carefully slide your fingers under the incisions I created around his hairline and pull.”
“What?” James asks as if he doesn’t understand.
“Slide your fingers carefully under the fucking incisions and pull,” Simon snaps.
“I don’t have any fucking gloves on,” James protests.
“Well, you should have fucking thought of that,” Simon says, his smirk curving into a malicious grin. “And it’s too late to stop now.”
James shakes his head in disbelief and glances towards Matthew.
Matthew makes a motion with his hand. “Go on, James. Do as Simon says.”
“This is punishment, isn’t it?” James asks as he looks back to Simon and reluctantly leans over Asad’s head. “You’re fucking punishing me for talking to your woman.”
“Perhaps,” Simon says, flashing his teeth.
“Fuck,” James curses then that curse turns into a groan. My stomach flips as James works his fingers under a long cut on Asad’s forehead. “I can feel his fucking brains.”
“That’s his skull, you idiot,” Simon hisses.
James wiggles his fingers under Asad’s skin and the visual has me jumping up from my chair.
“Meredith,” Matthew says in a chiding tone as he turns towards me. “Sit back down.”
“Whatever,” James huffs. “Now what do you want me to do?”
“Fucking pull,” Simon growls.
I watch in horror, unable to look away for precious seconds, as James begins to pull on Asad’s skin, peeling it back from his face and revealing a bloody skull.
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I try to rush past Matthew but he grabs me by the arm and spins me around.
“Too much?” he asks with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
I swallow back the bile burning in my throat and somehow manage to choke out, “Too much.”
“Princess?” I hear Simon say, his voice worried, but I don’t dare glance toward him.
“She’ll be fine,” Matthew says to him. “Continue.”
“I can’t, Matthew… Please…” I groan as he guides me back to the chair.
“You can,” Matthew assures me. Using his foot, he nudges the chair around until it faces the wall then helps me sit back down.
“Please,” I beg, reaching out and grabbing the front of his shirt. Clinging to him as he squats down beside me.
“You can do this, Meredith,” he repeats, looking into my eyes. He reaches up and strokes my hair back. “Next to my wife, you’re the strongest woman I know.”
That little compliment makes me feel better. I always enjoy a little stroke to my ego now and then.
Taking a few deep breaths, I try to get the churning in my stomach to die down.
Then I hear Simon snap, “Be careful.”
“Fuck,” James snaps back. “He won’t stop squirming, give me a break.”
Asad’s muffled screams grow louder and louder, and I can only imagine what they’re doing to him.
My stomach lurches again.
“Fine, I can do it,” I groan, my fists tightening in Matthew’s shirt. “But I don’t want to do it. I’m pregnant, have a mild concussion, and I’m going to get fucking sick.”
If he doesn’t do something about this, I’m going to aim my fucking puke at him.
