That wasthe last time I saw Preston until last night. If it was last night? I wish I could see if the sun was up. And was it too much to ask for a glass of water? My tongue was starting to stick to the roof of my mouth.
Huffing, I slumped back and crossed my arms.
That was when a hiss echoed, and the metal door started to open.
The faint thrum and screech of Ozzy Osborne tickled my ears as I pulled a black T-shirt over my head and rounded the corner. I didn’t believe in such a thing as a perfect day, but this was pretty damn close.
It started the same as every other day. Woke up, had something to eat, did a couple of chores, had a shower, then headed down to the basement—nothing out of the ordinary. What put the cherry on top was the time I spent watching my Bird scuttle around her cage.
Sweet little Marnie, with her determined mind, was like crack. For three hours, I sat in that chair, transfixed by the monitor. The look on her face when she realized what was happening was priceless.
Even after she stashed her weapon away, fear still tugged at her features. My guess was she was planning on choking me with that rope or something along those lines. I’d let her have her little security net. If anything, I looked forward to the fight.
I kept waiting for her to give up, but she never did. She just sat there waiting. Every once in a while, her eyes would dull, like she was drifting off somewhere in her mind. Then that spark of defiance would reignite. It was her internal struggle that got me hard.
I jerked off twice while zooming in on her face. Solitude wasn’t an easy thing to handle. Stronger men than her would’ve broken by now. Like the man behind the large metal door at the end of the hall.
My eyes dropped down to the watch on my wrist.
I counted the seconds, slowly ticking away to the minute when the endless loop of Crazy Train would get cut. Sure enough, as that hand moved up to mark the hour, silence cascaded into the darkness. Everyone had their place of serenity. Micha found solace in the water, and Logan had Shelby. For me, that place happened to be a basement dug under the east wing.
Some might call it a dungeon, I suppose. Then again, they didn’t know this place existed. No one did. That would defeat the purpose of building it myself. Bet my old man never expected this when he passed Whitley Manor down to me. If only he knew who I had in this room.
I leaned over to look in the retinal scanner and unlock the door. The metal pane swung inwards, pushing a gust of air past me. The scent of blood and sweat wasn’t one I found distasteful. I rather enjoyed it. There was something about desperation and fear that called to me. However, the stench from this room made my lip curl.
It was time to hose this prick down again. Eh, I’d do it tomorrow. I wasn’t in the mood to drag out the firehose. Plus, I had stuff to do today. Should shower again before I did that, though.
Shrugging, I stepped into the darkness.
I didn’t have to turn on the light to see the figure huddled in the corner. The sconces out in the hall cast enough of a glow to outline his naked form. He was pressed into the corner, shivering. The cement encasing this place didn’t offer much warmth, nor did the metal table in the center. Not that I gave a shit. I was nice and toasty, even had a cup of coffee in my hand.
Lifting the drink up to my lips, I took my time and reveled in the way he watched me slowly sipping the hot liquid. He was practically salivating over the steam rising from my mug. If he wasn’t so dehydrated, I might’ve seen some drool form in the corner of his mouth. I was thoroughly enjoying the show. I especially liked how his wide eyes seemed to light up against the dirt on his face.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Once upon a time, he was at the top of his game. He was a leader in his chosen career, with a position that gave him power and arrogance. He was respected and feared. Now, look at him, curled up in the shadows like a scared bunny. No one in his past would recognize the man he’d become. If one could even call what he was a man? I suppose he did still have a dick. Hadn’t taken that yet. I figured it’d be a fitting way to end his miserable life finally and let him bleed out.
“Hmm,” I hummed while lifting my gaze to the panel of fluorescent bulbs on the ceiling. “I think we need some light.”
My prisoner didn’t like that. He ducked under his arms and grumbled out an inhumane wail. Over the years, I’ve learned a lot of things about people. Given the right circumstances, anyone could switch from talking to sounding like an animal. Civility was but a myth. Strip away everything that polite society deemed acceptable, add in a lot of desperation, with a dash of basic survival needs, and that was when you really saw what someone was made of.
My friend here was down to one-word sentences, like when he croaked out, “Thirsty.”
He didn’t need to worry. He’d get all the hydration he needed when I hosed his ass down tomorrow. I was more concerned with the untouched gruel still sitting by the door.
I tapped the plastic bowl with the toe of my boot and shook my head. “You didn’t eat your food.”
“Thirsty,” was his only response.
“I don’t give a shit if you’re thirsty,” I barked loud enough to make him jar back.
I took precious time out of my day to make sure he had something to eat, and he ignored my efforts. That would not do. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried to kill himself.
That happened five years ago after I removed his testicles. Then there was the Pear of Anguish incident. An ass was not meant to stretch like that. I thought he was done for, but the fucker pulled through. Now he was too weak to bash his head against the wall. His ribs were visible through his skin.
I gave him a year, maybe two tops, before his organs failed. That didn’t mean he could stop eating. I decided when he died. Besides, if he didn’t eat, the LSD wouldn’t have time to kick in before the next round ofCrazy Trainstarted.
“Do you want the IV again?”
