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Two
Aidan
Present Day - July
"I haven’t done anything,Mr. O’Donnelly! I swear!" Wintersen screamed at me.
Ignoring him as well as that gnawing ache in my belly for another tablet, I asked, "You looked where you shouldn’t have looked. You touched what you shouldn’t have touched. And you dared desire something that will never, ever belong to scum like you."
I picked up the bottle of caustic soda, and approached the bench I had him tied to. His head was duct-taped in place, his hands and that barrel-like stomach were secured as well.
"I’m the last face you’ll ever see, Wintersen. But don’t worry, you won’t be blind for long."
I upended the bottle over his face, making sure the full flood went into his eyes, which I'd taped open.
His screams were a sweet serenade.
"This is what you get," I shouted, louder than his cries as the chemicals corroded soft tissue and turned it into mulch, "when you even think about touching something that belongs to an O’Donnelly."
