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This is a good start.
With a firm grip, I hold her jaw, ensuring that she remains still. The cloth hovers atop her face, and I hear her take a deep breath before I slowly pour the water over her mouth.
The stream is barely a trickle while she holds her breath. After a long minute, I see and hear her exhale. Without a second thought, I increase the flow, and she chokes before desperately flailing against my grip.
The sound of her muffled gasps fills the room as the water fills her lungs. Her struggles intensify, a deeply instinctual, desperate fight for survival, but the cloth remains firmly in place.
I continue until her attempts to evade the drowning lessen, becoming jerky movements before I allow her to breathe freely. The water slowly trickles to a stop, and I withdraw the cloth from her face.
Her gasps for air fill the room, and I watch as her body trembles.
Whether it’s from the cold, adrenaline or fear, I don’t know.
Nor do I care.
“I had to do it.” Dolly says between her coughing fit.
My gaze meets hers, and the words slip from my lips, laced with a raw intensity, as I confront her with the truth.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Dolly,” I say firmly, “You knew exactly what you were doing when you handed me over to her.”
Releasing my grip on her jaw, I place the cloth onto the workstation next to the remainder of the tools.
“She was going to kill me,” she gasps between breaths.
I laugh and Dolly’s eyes widen, another flicker of fear crossing her face.
I pause, my laughter fading into an icy stillness. “And it would have ended there,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence, “instead, you handed me over as a mere child, and look where we are now.”
The room seems to shrink, the walls closing in around us as the tension rises. I meet Dolly’s gaze, my eyes are cold and unyielding, mirroring the steel that has encased my heart.
The heart that only has one fucking weakness.
“If you think your death will be a fast one here, Dolly,” I continue, my voice dripping with an edge of menace, “you are sorely mistaken.”
There is a palpable shift in the atmosphere, and Dolly’s defiance falters, her bravado crumbling. Turning to the table with asyringe in hand, I hold it up and cock my head, my gaze fixated on Dolly.
“You’re still dead either way, Dolly,” I say, my voice laced with lethal finality. “The difference is that you fucked with my entire life, and countless others in the process.”
Dolly’s gaze flickers between the syringe and my unwavering expression. Fear dances in her eyes, mingling with a sense of resignation and my lips curl.
“One thing I have wondered... Howdidyou keep the truth a secret, Dolly?” I ask, my voice dripping with curiosity and disdain. “You must have spun some extravagant tale to gain my brother’s protection. What was the dramatics you used? I never was able to get any intel on your sob story.”
Dolly’s lips curl into a sneer, a twisted expression of defiance.
There she is.
With a sudden burst of rage, she spits in my face, her contemptuous act meant to provoke me. But instead, it only fuels my amusement.
As I clean the spittle off, a dark chuckle escapes my lips.
My mind wanders to Lara as I pour liquid into the syringe.
She would have loved this.
“This next part is going to hurt,” I state coldly, my voice devoid of any sympathy. “If you have anything important to say, I suggest you do so now while you’re still coherent.” I position myself by Dolly’s restrained hand, my gaze fixed on her.
Her chest heaves in dreaded anticipation. “She will kill you when she finds out what you did to me,”
