“The face of a pug? A rainbow unicorn would be scarier,” I clip.
“It’s disturbing. Round, far-away eyes, wrinkles all over, bouncing ears.” He bobs his head to demonstrate. “Your white mask is averag…” He jumps abruptly when Jacob starts screaming.
“It bit me! It bit me again! I’m going to die.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I bark. “It has venom, but the toxicity is low, equivalent to a bee sting.”
“I’m allergic to bees,” he cries out. His lips are dry and chapped, hair looks greasy and dirty, eyes crazily moving around the room.
“So, don’t make Portia mad,” Lori barks, his body trembling with disgust or fear. I can’t say with that stupid mask on. “Should have bought the rats.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” the idiot whines, fat tears making wet lines on his dirty face.
“You know why, shitbag,” I growl menacingly, remembering Sully’s scared gaze and the bruises on his body.
“Why not?” Lori huffs instead. “You have not given me a scrap of useful information, so next I’ll dip your balls in honey and let that jar of fire ants have their way with you.”
He leaves his place on top of the crate and comes to me. “Can you put Portia back in the jar?”
“Do it yourself,” I deadpan.
“I would, but do you really want to hear me scream? I thought you had enough of that for today,” he says, while grabbing the bear-shaped bottle of honey.
Fuck it. I take the empty jar and put the tarantula inside. I could never be afraid of a bug I could simply crush under my boot.
“You know what?” Lori lets the bottle of honey fall on the ground after pouring a generous amount inside Jacob’s boxers. “Maybe we should follow Super Model’s methods.”
That’s Lori’s nickname for Uriel. He surely doesn’t use insects to do his bloody work.
Lori opens the red ant container and leaves it on Jacob’s belly. The little insects quickly climb out toward the honey.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Jacob’s restrained body twists and turns and wiggles as more ants walk inside his boxers. Fire ants are known for biting.
“My soon-to-be brother-in-law once used electrical wires on one of his boyfriend’s exes,” Lori says. “He stuck them right to the guy’s testicles and…burn, blood, smoke. But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.” His mask’s ears bounce as he chuckles.
Jacob’s face is turning red. His body is covered in red bites from the tarantula and now the ants. This is not working. I need to see Sully, but not before ending things here. I should hang Jacob outside the window again and use his fear of heights against him. I turn to see where I left the rest of the rope when I hear Lori.
“His ass has a hello-sailor quality to it, don’t you think?” He’s chatting with an almost unconscious Jacob now while pointing atmyass.
I sigh. “Did he faint?” He probably has a fever, and the fact that I only gave him a piece of bread and a few glasses of dirty water in two days made his body run on low energy.
“I can’t see well with this mask. I should poke his eye.” He leans over the table to do just that.
“Why?”
“Few people are still scary after you poke them in the eye.”
With a scorching rod, maybe.
“Was he ever scary?” I look at the wretched, miserable piece of shit lying on the board.
“Just trying a hypothesis, like how a cockroach can survive up to a week after its head is cut off. Should we try it with him?” He points at Jacob and then slaps him hard. “Answer, roach!”
“N-no,” he whispers reflexively.
“Alright, Gabe’s methods it is,” Lori adds after a moment. He goes to his bag and takes out a tossing knife.
He walks back to Jacob and raises the blade in the air, sharp point down. “Stay still so I can stab your ball. Prefer right or left?”
