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Chapter 28
“You did this to me, you little fucker.”
The alcohol on his breath could knock out a heavyweight boxer.
“I didn’t mean to!” I cry, unable to stop the tears. “I didn’t know what would happen!”
He pushes me to the floor; I land on my chin, biting my tongue. A metal flavor fills my mouth.
“Get up.”
He’s going to kick me if I don’t, but it hurts too much.
“Get up!”
Pain explodes in my side.
“Wake up!”
Ingram slaps me in the face.
“Open your eyes.”
I groan as the extent of my agony claws into my awareness. The last time I experienced this much physical pain, my name was still Simon. My broken fingers throb. Every muscle in my face screams. My sides ache just like they used to. I shouldn’t try to move — it won’t go well — but I try anyway. Nothing happens; my hands are cuffed to the arms of a chair.
Of course.
I’m fucked.
At first I don’t see much, only a pair of outlines. It’s just as well, considering how badly my head pounds. Ingram must have some idea of it, though, because the lights brighten all at once, like a solar flare burning right in my eyes. Wincing, I squeeze them shut and turn away. Then a surge of electricity sparks through my brain, burning my skull from within.
“Open your eyes,” says Ingram.
Fucking shit.
There are electrodes on my temples. That was an electroshock device.
Instinct commands me to panic. Logic reminds me there’s nothing I can do. Neither are helpful.
I force my eyes back open, turning to the stabbing light.
It’s the Enclave’s dungeon. Torture tools abound, though I don’t think Ingram plans to use any canes or floggers on me. No, he’ll opt for the brass knuckles, or the baseball bat. The knives and pokers. The blowtorch.
For now, he holds a tablet. Kate sits on a bench in the corner, watching from a distance. Is she comfortable being here, in this place where she’s suffered so many times? Is this what she imagined all those nights back in her cell? Is this going to live up to the hype?
“How do you want to proceed?” Ingram asks.
Should I even bother answering? He’s going to torture me one way or another. That’s what he wants to do. If I give him an excuse, he will. If I cooperate fully, maybe he’ll ease up, but not in the end. He’ll get his fill before letting me flatline. It’s my decision whether to suffer now or suffer later. One of them gives Ingram what he wants, though. I’d rather not let that happen.
Except, how much pain can I tolerate without breaking? All the logic in the world won’t help when all I can think about is wanting to die. I’ll talk, just to make it stop. I’ll say anything. At least some of it will be the truth. I could save myself some pain by cooperating.
“What do you mean?” I reply.
Ingram points to a camera pointed at me.
“You want to start chronologically? You could begin with the day you killed your father, Joseph Wilson. From there you could talk about faking your own death, followed by your time in the mob. Eventually you could move into the crimes you committed along the way to making Innovative AF the dominant tech company in the world.”
“Pass,” I grunt.
