I can list many for him if he needs help. I wonder if his savor approves of his actions. Him and I are alike in many ways. I, however, kill scumbags. I enjoy the thrill it provides me. Maybe that’s what it is for him, the thrill.
“You’re not in a position to make demands now, are you? Tell me, does Agent Solace know that he’s sleeping with a sinner? Does Agent Monroe know that her partner is sleeping with a criminal?” He paces back and forth in front of me as if he’s an animal in a cage waiting to be let out.
Alaric's last name rolling off his tongue makes me pause. Of course he knows who Alaric is as they’ve met in person before he could confirm Oliver was the killer. But what really strikes me is the fact that he knows our close relationship. Heknew who his next victim was going to be. He wanted someone close to Alaric and he chose me. He took someone close to me knowing I would come after her, but was also very aware of my background. Monroe was just a bonus.
“I mean he knows I own a strip club. Didn’t realize that was a sin. He seemed excited about it, in fact. Tell me, did you enjoy watching me? Will you confess to that?” I provoke him. I should probably keep my mouth in check but I simply can’t help it.
The next thing I know, his hand goes flying across my face. My head snaps to the side and I can taste copper pooling in my mouth. I turn my head to him and smile as I can feel substance run down my chin. I let out a primal cackle which makes him knit his eyebrows together.
“Your mouth is going to get you in trouble, girl. Confess or I’ll be forced to cleanse you,” he shouts.
He looks over at the trough that is nearly filled to the brim and walks over to the faucet and shuts it off. He begins whispering to himself as he circles the room. It’s like he’s arguing with himself or talking to some imaginary friend. His palm comes to his forehead as he hits it over and over before he steps in front of me. It’s like he’s contemplating and arguing with someone inside his head.
Suddenly, he pauses and turns slowly towards me with a manic smile and launches towards me. The action takes me by surprise and he wraps my hair to the scalp around his hand and drags me to the trough. My ankle strains by the movement being that it’s chained and I can barely move another inch. He throws me into the side of it and before I know it, my head is under water. I can feel the panic rising but I try to push it down. I don’t try to fight him. My head is yanked up and I gasp for a breath before I’m plunged back into the water.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
I count in my head to distract myself and by the time I hit thirty, I’m being pulled back to the surface. I can hear screams telling him to stop and let me go but I can’t tell them to stop. I need them to stay quiet so they don’t take any of the torture. They would break but I won’t.
“Confess. Confess and you will be set free,” he demands. He yanks my hair back so I can look up at him.
“You first. Did you enjoy watching me?” I taunt him. He snarls and dunks my head back into the water.
I go to a place where pain can’t touch me. I let the darkness seep in as it’s the only place I can’t feel. My racing heart calms but this time he keeps me under longer and my lungs burn. He pulls me back up as he begins to chant. I take in as much air as I can before I go back under. Once he stops talking, I go under again and again. I can feel my body start to give out, but I try to hold on as much as possible to make him tired enough to be done for the night and leave the others alone.
“Shame. Shame. Shame. Confess to the Lord for He is a forgiving man. Confess to purify your heart.” His frustration is seeping and on the edge of snapping any patience that he has.
“Do you know why they call me the Reaper?” I purr at him, causing him to still. “Because I will make your pain slow and agonizing but I’ll rip your soul out without batting an eye. I don’t believe in your God but I do believe in hell and you’ll be right there with me.”
His eyes go wide as he traces a cross on his chest and he dunks me back under, this time with both hands. He’s shoving my shoulders hard, shaking me as he drowns my life away. Two minutes, I count two minutes before I’m yanked up andthrown against the wall. My shoulder takes the brunt of it, causing it to dislocate. My eyes start to blur from the pain and I slump down onto the mattress that I conveniently landed on. The door slams shut followed by the locks and we’re left alone with nothing but silence and ragged breathing.
Ididn’t realize that I dozed off until my eyes peel open to someone whispering my name. The first thing I notice is my drowning device is gone and a plate of cheese, water, and a piece of bread is waiting for me on a foam plate. I try to push myself up but wince at the pain in my shoulder. Once I’m finally sitting up with my back up against the wall, I bring my hand up and waste no time popping it back into place.
“Fuck, that was a good one,” I announce to no one in particular.
“Are you insane?” I hear Monroe's annoying voice and scrunch my nose.
“Officially not diagnosed, but I’ve been told so. Hello to you too and you’re welcome.” I give her the most cunning smile I can muster.
I lean over and grab the makeshift foam tray and take a bite out of the cheese, instantly regretting it, shoving the remaining piece under my mattress. I take a second to swallow what's in my mouth and try to wash it down with the water. If he sees that I won’t eat the cheese, he might not bring me anything else and I need all the energy I can get if we want to get out of here. I’ll take soggy bread over this gross cheese.
“It’s like you liked being drowned. You should have confessed whatever bullshit sin and he would have stopped. Why must you taunt him like that?” Mother hen over herethinks she can speak logic to me, but she has no idea how a psycho mind works.
“Yeah, and then he would move onto you or Samantha next. She’s taken on enough and you wouldn’t last as you’ve never been through any sort of torture. Your little academy trains you to chase after the bad guys, but doesn’t train you to withstand the worse-case scenario. He got frustrated and he left without looking twice. How long was I out for?” I ask as I look over to Samantha to make sure she’s doing okay.
She’s nibbling on her bread as she rocks back and forth. It’s as if she’s trying to comfort herself but waiting for something to happen at any moment. There’s still fear in her which tells me that I haven’t completely lost her. I’ll take this over him touching her one more time. I want to ask her what all he’s done to her to be more prepared, but I can’t bring myself to ask.
“I’m not 100 percent sure, but it had to be hours. He came down and removed everything, did some sort of ritual before he left. He came back a while later and brought the food. The drowning and the hit against the wall seemed to drain you. Your body seemed to know it was time to knock you out. Please stop provoking him. If we want to get out of here, we need all the energy we can preserve.” She gives me an update without a snide remark and puts on an act like she really cares if I live or die. I roll my eyes at that thought.
“Five hours,” Samantha whispers after she stops rocking back and forth. “The cuts will come next. You have about four to five hours before he comes back to begin the next form of repenting.”
