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“My pocket,” he gurgles. “Get my phone. Watch the last video saved on it. Then tell me. Does it…is that an unwilling woman?”
A moment of silence dawns between us. Neither of us moves. He dangles in his chains, his lumpy face still oozing. I pin him with a cold glare, taking a second to read him. He’s bluffing, buying himself more time.
Falynn wants nothing to do with him. She’s been clear about it.
She sobbed when she told me what happened during my absence; you can’t fake the level of emotion she displayed.
And I trust her. She loves me. I’ve never had reason to doubt so.
But curiosity’s a pesky foe. Once Giancarlo’s statement hangs in the air between us, I can’t ignore it. Falynn says he drugged her; she can’t remember that night.
So what really happened? Did Giancarlo capture it on film like the sickfuck he is?
“What video?” I ask, irritated. I’d rather be dismembering him right about now.
“My pocket.” He twists his body so that his right side faces me.
I hesitate another second before I step over and shove a hand inside his pants pocket. Our looks are similar enough for facial recognition to unlock his phone. I bring up his saved videos.
It’s instantly clear which video he’s speaking of. The screen capture is of Falynn. I press play.
The video opens with her already slumped in a chair, her legs spread wide. She seems halfway out of it, her dress bunched at her waist, her hand on her pussy. The audio plays, Giancarlo’s voice encouraging her to play with herself to her whimpered answer.
The air in my lungs vanishes. A coldness fills me like I’ve suddenly been plunged into an ice lake. It’s a strange feeling I don’t know what to make of—disgust mixed with anger and confusion.
“I asked her to touch herself,” Giancarlo says. He gives me his best attempt at a smile, but his lips are too swollen and deformed. “As you can see, she happily obliged.”
“You drugged her, you piece of fucking shit. Falynn already told me.” I toss his phone onto the cement ground as though it’s diseased. I’ll have to destroy the video and make sure it doesn’t live anywhere else, like on some cloud bullshit. No other pair of eyes must ever see it, not even Falynn.
It would upset her to know he filmed her in such a way.
“She was…but you think she didn’t want it? We had a good night together.”
“She didn’t sleep with you.”
“How can you be sure? She doesn’t know what happened. OnlyIdo,” he taunts, spittle shining on his fat, beaten lips. “You should’ve seen her. So lonely and sad. Easy prey. A grieving whore in need of company.”
It’s a trap. More mental games. His last hand he has to play.
I lift the machete in my hand and wave it in front of his face. Now it’s my turn for a sick, twisted grin. Fire still burns inside me, growing stronger, eating up the cold feelings from just a second ago. I’ll deal with those later.
“Your distraction is a failure.” I unchain one of his arms and press the machete against his index finger on his left hand, pushing down until beads of blood spill from the slice I’m making. I’ll be removing each digit one by one, the same dirty digits that hurt my woman. Then it’s onto removing other parts of him. “You think talking shit is going to get you out of this situation? You think showing me some video is going to make me spare you? Brother, when I’m done with you, you will be so deformed, you willbegme for death. But I won’t give it to you. Death’s too good. I’d rather keep you as my little disfigured pet. Every day you will suffer.”
Even Giancarlo can’t keep silent as I slice off his finger. His screams echo for miles across the desert landscape, like a nighttime lullaby to my ears.
