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“Have you had prior run-ins with him before, Tala?” I ask her, wondering if that’s why she’s been shooting daggers at him since we got them gathered together, and tucked between us.
“Not me. He likes the younger kids,” she confesses, balling her fists, and tossing it through the air when Luca receives another defensive maneuver attempt from the man, like she’s the one hitting him.
“Who?” I ask, suddenly feeling hostile.
“Maizy is his favorite kid to visit,” Trayton tells me, the first word he’s spoken since we got him and his cousin, Tanner out from a makeshift room we located attached to this basement. That was our mistake, we thought it was a janitor closet because it was skinny in dimension and the wood was plywood thin. It wasn’t until we heard an earsplitting “no” shouted that we searched it. Thankfully, the man was wimpy, his voice and look was intimidating enough to have the boys scared. But for us, he was a wuss when it came to standing up to another adult, and together, Charlee and I took him down, tied him up, and delivered him to Country.
“Luca!” I holler.
“Yeah, Curly Sue?” He stops, pivots, smiling at me. Only his face drops when he sees mine. “What happened? Who am I killing?”
“That piece of shit right there,” I say, indicating his toy.
“Was already planning on it, darlin’,” he vows.
“I know. But I need you to make him hurt. You’re being easy on him, I want him to feel the burn, Luca.”
“Again. Why, Mera?” Luca stares at me, dissecting me. “What did he do?”
“He hurt Maizy,” Winter announces, looking Luca dead in the eyes, never once wavering.
“Did he now?” Luca probes.
“He did. Several times,” Cortland states. “I tried to stop it, that’s why I’m down here. This time.”
Luca makes a guttural sound that emanates from his trachea, then loses his ever-loving mind. My jaw drops to the floor when he elevates the man from the length of his binding that connects his wrist to his ankles.
“Who’s first?” he asks, his eyes blackened, his irises blown.
“Pin the tail on the donkey, or is he our pinata?” Country asks, grabbing a two-by-four out from the building material that’d been stashed in the corner.
“Why choose?” Kruger snickers the question. “Personally, I like a little variety while doling out my punishments.”
Texas adds, “Crueltyisfundamental when doing a job the right way. I want to taste his fear.” A shiver races up and down my spine when I take in Texas’ brutal look. I knew he was insane, but this—this is deranged.
“Make him shit candy, Country!” Charlee, my bloodthirsty friend, hollers.
“Taste the rainbow,” I giggle, singing my favorite candy commercial’s jingle.
“Hear that, fellas? My lady wants us to make him bleed a bag of skittles,” Luca maniacally snickers. “Ready to shit fruit flavored candy out of your asshole, freak?” he asks, terrorizing the restrained man.
They don’t wait for an answer. They don’t care about what he has to say. Shamus picks up a box of nails as Country grabs a hammer. “What are they going to do with those?” I quiz Charlee.
“Play pin the tail on the donkey,” she says, smiling at me.
“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” I reply, shaking my head. My mouth opening wide with the ‘O’ part of my sentence. Like I’ve said previously, they’re in-ven-tive.
I don’t even question it when Country hands off the two-by-four in his left hand to Kruger while his right hand hammers the nail Shamus just placed in the meat of the man's left butt cheek. The boys and girls are oohing and ahhing, making me wonder if we should get them outta here and escort them back to the others.
They shouldn’t be seeing this, it’s… disturbing to say the least.
“Come on, let’s get back upstairs. The others are worried about you and need to see you with their own eyes in order to believe you’re all alright,” I suggest.
“Do we have to?” Cortland questions.
“Yeah, buddy. I think we do,” I answer, guiding them up the stairs and leaving the men to do their thing.
* * *
