“A woman, yes, but not any woman. My wife.”
“Ahh… So, is she really that much older than you?” He scoffs.
“Let’s just say, you should be glad she ain’t here to hear you say that; or else, she’d murder your ass. And no, she’s not old, that’s a figure of speech.”
“So… you love her?” That one hit home. I didn’t need an answer from his mouth; his face and body already told me ‘yes.’
“That’s none of your Goddamn business, bitch.” Oh, don’t you run away from me, Bad Blood.
“Well, to be honest, I wanted to know what is to love. If I’m going to die today, at least I wanted someone who knows the feeling to describe it to me. You see, the man you beat senseless back there, I… I think I love him, but I’m not completely sure.” Why am I saying all this? And to him, of all people.
“I’m not here to answer girly stuff. Now, shut the fuck up.”
“You don’t need to say anything, you know. Your eyes already told me what I wanted to know— you do love her. Tell me something. I’m thinking of him right now. Do my eyes glow like yours?” Really? I mean. What the actual fuck, Sarah. Why am I provoking him!? Bad Blood doesn’t reply.
A long while goes by. He checks his watch, stands up, stretches his back, walks towards me, grabs my hair. “Hey! That’s not necessary, I can walk!” He loosens the grip a bit, and my body reacts, fast. I break free and start running.
I don’t know why I do it. Maybe it’s survival instinct. Anyway, I don’t go far. Bad Blood throws himself after me and grabs my ankles, tripping me. I fall down and hit the concrete floor face first; something I should’ve considered since my hands are still tied up.
We fight for a brief moment, he tries to smash my shoulders and I aim to crush his nuts, to no avail. The moment his heavy hand connects with my cheekbone, I’m out of combat. This giant of a man punches me and almost knocks me out.
“That’s what you get for messing with me. You should be glad I didn’t knock a few teeth out.” We walk together and stop in front of a door. He looks at me with doubtful eyes. I can’t understand why. “Your eyes glow, too,” he whispers before pushing me inside the room.
“Fuck you! You sick piece of shit,” I hear Carter yell through the laptop speakers. That makes me wonder. How far away from us is he? Is he here as well?
With a fake expression of shame, Leon says, “I must apologize for the manners or lack thereof of my guests, but I must insist that we play a little game.” I gaze at Bruno again. He has a look in his eye I’ve never seen before— lost and confused. He tries to focus on me, but his neck muscles are so tired, he can barely move his head.
“No… I don’t want to play…” My eyes get teary. I finally understand that there’s no good outcome for us from this point forward. No happily ever after. I’m barely trying to delay the inevitable.
Don’t you cry, Sarah.
“That’s fine. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” Leon says compassionately. A tone suitable for a kindergarten teacher, not to a soon-to-be number one in the terrorist list kind of guy. He takes a few seconds to roll up his shirt-sleeves before resuming his monologue. “What was I saying? Oh, right… It’s fine if you don’t want to play. Really, it is, but for every time you refuse to play, I’m going to play a round with our good pal Carter.” His face expression goes from nice to batshit crazy in a split second.
“Carter? Where is… is… a… Carter,” Bruno mumbles while still drooling blood. Then, he coughs harshly.
Leon doesn’t reply. He completely ignores Bruno, takes two steps towards the wall where the levers are and yanks one up. The metal clanks at the end of the motion, echoing inside the room we’re in. I quickly switch my view from the wall of levers to Bruno, waiting for his body to show the electricity running through it. But instead of that, a muffled grunt comes from the laptop, meaning that the lever Leon actioned jolted Carter instead.
“Stop it! Please!” I yell at Leon, who immediately pulls down the lever. “Don’t hurt him. Let me play. Let’s play.” I reach out with my tied hands, trying to touch his arm. The thought alone twists my stomach, but I can see he likes it. Leon looks at my hand on his arm, then up, and smirks.
“Wonderful, Cassandra. What a good guest you are proving to be. See, Carter? This is how you behave when you’re a guest: the host proposes, and you nod in agreement,” he claims passionately, cuts my bindings and turns back to grab something from the table. “Voilà!” He says while turning back to me. His right-hand poses in front holding metallic objects. “My dear, you look confused. Do you not know what this is? Surely, you don’t have to know what it is to know how to use it, right? Give it a go.”
The metallic objects are needles. I grab them and start to hyperventilate. I’m extremely nervous. My lips are sealed shut and my throat is swollen, filled with the pressure of trying not to scream in fear. I look at Bruno. He knows what I have to do. His eyes tell me he does.
I walk towards him, lean forward and kiss his forehead. That’s the only thing I can do to say, ‘I’m sorry.’
“Ready when you are,” he whispers.
My hands are shaking; I slowly move the needle’s tip towards his index finger. I’m aiming for the space between the finger and the fingernail. The needle goes in, my skin crawls, my soul screeches. I look away when the first drop of blood emerges. Tears run down my face like a waterfall. Bruno lets out a muffled grunt. He and I are not strangers to pain and he takes it like a pro. The second needle goes in and I can feel a gag reflex coming. This is like being back in that room, on the receiving end of the pain. Then the third and the fourth. After that, I hear a whistle.
“Oh, my. You do not waste any time. Do you, my dear?” He says with an awful, twisted, fucked-up smile. “How are you feeling? Being on the giving end of pain should feel like… how do you Americans say it…?”
“A million bucks,” Bad Blood says.
Leon clicks his tongue and says, “…Hah! A million bucks! Thank you, my friend. You see, the game, like everything in this life, has rules. And those rules must be followed. Allow me to be your guide. After all, it is only logical that you get to return the favor. He tortured you and you must torture him!”
I’m losing it.
“Is this what you think you’re giving me here? Do you think a vendetta will sate my anger?”
