“I forgot to mention, I’m not only a fighter, I'm fucking nuts too.” I whisper over Wasim’s ear.
I push him down with my foot. I carefully hear and watch the blood gushing from his neck like a torrent, his eyes asking me for help, but I only answer with a spit on his cock, which is still out in the open, now much smaller than before.
Of course it is.
I throw the broken bottle away, satisfied with my work.
“No!” shouts Dante in between coughs. “What have you done?!”
Wasim still fights his certain death, but his heart will eventually stop beating.
“Killed the son of a bitch! That's what I did!”
Dante kneels near Wasim and begins to place his clothes over the wound, mumbling pointless words.
Wasim is gone.
“Dante! He was going to kill you! And then go back to rape me! What the hell are you doing?”
He watches me with infuriated eyes. “Stop saying that name!” he gets up and starts walking around the room, his white T-shirt is red now, he has blood on his hands and face. “We're dead pet, dead!”
I slowly approach him and hold his face to get his full attention, his hands try to make me let him go, but I don't let him.
“Your name is Dante, and I am not a slave.” My voice is low and deadly.
“What does that mean?! What are you talking about?” his eyes move around my face, desperate for answers.
“You are Dante D'Amico and the man with me is your brother, Bruno. We are here to rescue you!”
“Why? I don't need anyone to rescue me!”
What? What’s going on?
“Dante! Listen to me!” I yell feeling frustrated “You are a slave of this family; you were bought ten years ago.”
“No, this is my home!”
“This is not your home, you don’t belong here!”
The grip his hand has on mine is getting weaker as the silence grows between the two of us.
I don’t have time for this!
I have to hurry; we only have a few minutes.
“Dante, you were presumed dead when they showed a video with you tied to a chair, and then they pretended to kill you. That's all he ever saw. Bruno learned it was a montage two years ago and here we are, risking our asses for you, so get your shit together and come with us.”
My hands rest gently on his shoulders now, to bring him back to earth, and I say the words that wake him up:
“Today may be your last chance to escape.”
“I cannot leave.” He whispers in defeat.
“What? Why not?! They don't love you here. Don’t you understand? You're a pet to them!”
“It's not that.” Finally, answers. “I can't leave…her.”
I knew it!
