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I take the bucket, operate the keypad to unlock the cell, then open the door in silence. It takes me just three paces and I’m standing over him. I empty the water over his head.
He leaps off the bench with a roar of fury, turning to take a swing at me.
I sidestep, then clout him in the face with the bucket. “Wakey, wakey, shithead.”
He staggers back to land on his arse. “You mad bastard,” he splutters, his voice dripping with venom. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I dump the pail. “You need killing. I’m here to do it.”
He scrambles to his feet and darts for the open door. Can’t fault his optimism.
I stick out my foot, and he topples to the stone floor again. I land my boot in his ribs for good measure. The sound of bone cracking is remarkably therapeutic. If she wasn’t so fragile right now, I might suspend proceedings to let Jenna come down here and witness justice being done. On second thoughts, though, she’s clearly a bit squeamish.
Best get on.
I haul him to his feet and plant my fist in his jaw. I relish the sound of more bones cracking. He spits out two teeth.
Now I have his attention, I let go and allow him to slide down the wall to the floor. I drop to my haunches in front of him.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
He shakes his head. His eyes are glazed, his lips drooling blood and snot and Christ knows what else. I move back in case he vomits.
“Jenna Delaney.” I spit the name at him.
“Fucking slut,” he mutters, sealing his own fate.
Any thoughts of dealing him a swift death evaporate. I slug him again, at which point he spoils my fun by passing out.
“Fill the bucket again, Rome.”
He returns a few moments later, the pail brimming again.
I gesture to him to tip it over our guest.
Fuller comes round, spluttering and incoherent. He tries to curl in a ball.
Fucking coward.I imagine Jenna adopting a similar position when they laid into her. They showed no mercy, so I don’t either.
But neither do I want this to be too quick. And I require some answers if I can get them before he dies.
I drag him onto the bench and prop him up. “Time for a chat.”
“Go…go fuck yourself, arsehole.” His words are slurred, barely comprehensible.
I suppose it’s the broken jaw.
“Why did you do it?” I ask him. It’s a simple enough question.
His next answer is little more than garbled gibberish, though I do detect a couple of ‘fuck yous’ in there.
“Answer me, or the next soaking you get will be with scalding water.”
He shakes his head. I’m not sure he even heard me or processed my meaning.
“Listen to me, you piece of shit. I’m running out of patience. Why did you batter her? Did you mean to kill her? Or were you just careless?”
His ruined mouth works silently for a few seconds, then, “Teach…teach a lesson…”
