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“Revenge?”he echoes in disbelief, his deep, gravelly voice reminding me of Samuel L. Jackson.
It’s soothing in a way, and I wonder what he looks like. Does he match it? Who is he? If he’s locked down here like I am, he’s clearly done something wrong—maybe he’s one of the guards? Or just someone who pissed off the traffickers? I don’t know, and he doesn’t seem like the sharing type. His words are clipped, and his voice is slow and rough, like he’s not used to speaking, but he’s a distraction from the moral crisis brewing inside me. From the flashes of that poor innocent girl I killed. From my own pain. From the fracturing of my soul.
So I keep talking, enjoying the first real conversation I’ve had with someone who isn’t torturing me in a long fucking time. I find myself reaching out and hanging onto his every word, not wanting it to stop.
“Yes, you know the word, Boogeyman? To get back at these bastards, to make them feel every inch of what they did to me, to rip them to pieces and fucking shower in their blood. To take everything they have and burn it to the fucking ground. That’s why I’m still alive. They can take everything but that fire from me. I will get my revenge, Boogeyman, you wait and see.”
He goes quiet then. I allow him the silence, since he probably doesn’t know what to say. Fuck him, I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone. I close my eyes, shivering from the cold. The trip upstairs was a quick reprieve from the icy wetness of my cell, but the light was too bright. They are right—I’m like an animal, more suited to the cold, wet, dark cell than normal life.
I’m a creature.
The monster they created.
This place may be my prison, but it will be their casket.
* * *
Time passes strangely down here.It feels like days, but it must only be an hour or so before I hear the footsteps. I’ve gotten good at knowing each and every sound, and those are boots headed this way. I clench my hands, my muscles tensing as I prepare for pain… which never comes.
The boots stop, and two moments later, a cell door opens. Not mine, no, my new friend, Boogeyman. I hear them enter his cell as I relax, tilting my head to try and hear better.
“Hello, Boogeyman,” comes a dark voice. “I have been waiting a long time for this. It seems you are a hard ghost to track down.”
“Yeah? I don’t know who the fuck you are,” my neighbour snaps. So this man has been hunted? Why? He clearly doesn’t work for them.
“No? Maybe you’ll recognise my family name, Nikolic.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then a bark of laughter. “You’re that cunt’s… brother, I’m guessing?” Boogeyman replies.
“Yes, brother. After you destroyed my family’s business—”
“Of trafficking young, foreign girls,” Boogeyman interrupts. There’s a crash and a grunt of pain, and then the other man starts talking.
“I was all that was left. I went to America and started fresh, all while hunting you. It’s taken me ten years to build contacts and regain my position, but I vowed I would never stop, no matter what it took. Even if I had to work under the directive of some fucking American scum to get to you.”
“Cute backstory, can we get on with the torture now?” Boogeyman deadpans, making me laugh loudly.
“Shut that fucking dog up,” comes a snarl, and there’s a bang on the wall. I giggle harder, but under my breath. It seems his ten-year plan isn’t going like he wanted.
I can hear the anger in his voice.
His hate.
So Boogeyman killed some traffickers, nice. It makes me wonder who the fuck he is in the first place to be mixed up with them. Either way, he’s as fucked as I am. He pissed off the wrong people. This Nikolic may not be the head guy… Shit, I don’t even know who the head guy is. I’ve only met the bald-headed fuck who runs this establishment, but he said an American? I listen harder, knowing I need to store anything they say and use it against them.
“Oh, it won’t be that easy,” the man snaps, and I hear another crash. “I’ve waited ten years, assassin, and you are going to suffer for a long fucking time down here,??????. I’m going to break every inch of your body over and over and then your will, until the big bad Boogeyman is nothing more than a fucking myth,” he snarls, his Serbian accent growing more pronounced the angrier he gets.
“Pussy,” Boogeyman growls. “Just like your brother.”
Oh shit.
I hear the man bark something in Serbian, and then two seconds later, I hear the sound of fists hitting skin, of torture, yet Boogeyman doesn’t make one sound. Not even a grunt. He just takes it, and it only infuriates them more.
I don’t know how long I stand there listening to them torment him, but even I start to get angry. I don’t know this man, but he clearly has balls of fucking steel and is doing the one thing I wish I could.
Pissing them off.
There’s a loud yell, and a moment later, I jolt in my chains as something smashes into the wall repeatedly. I turn my head and watch as one of the bricks cracks, and pieces of it fall away, revealing a hole into the other cell. A body slides down that hole.
“Fuck, get him out of here. Leave his ass bleeding,” comes a holler. “We’ll be back, Boogeyman.” There is a rush of footsteps, and then the sound of the cell door opening and closing.
Raising my eyebrows, I shake my head to move my hair out of my face and peer into the darkened cell next door. I get a glimpse of a giant, sweaty, bloody muscular body and chains.
“You really pissed him off.” I laugh. I see the edge of his chin and mouth as he turns and notices the hole. “Welcome to the club.”
