“How about shutting the fuck up and let me finish this?” When I don’t hear a single peep from him, I take that as confirmation.After a couple more minutes, I’m done and grab the little manual Isa left me.
Isa is a friend of mine from Belgium, and he is training to become a neurosurgeon. While my friends outside of this know what I’m doing, they don’t judge me for it. And that’s why I asked Isa to give me a manual for treating open wounds.
I grab a couple of things from my wall, and I tend to this pig’s wounds. After I’m done, I sit by his side again.
“Now, the fun part. Tomorrow you will go to Lana’s diner and show her this message.” My gaze lands on his arm. The pain in his face makes it clear he understands. He wants to be thorough, this asshole—he even says he’ll do what I ordered.
“I will. But please, don’t tell anyone about the inheritance.” His eyes are filling up with tears, and I smile at his desperation.
“You are such a gentleman. I don’t think I am being rude when I tell you that if you speak about me to anyone, I will torture and kill you afterward. Right?” My question is rhetorical and he knows this, yet he plays along.
“Agreed. Please let me go. I will never bother her or any other server again.”
“Very good. Because believe me when I tell you I have eyes and ears everywhere.” I stand up and tie his hands and feet again with the rope I had lying around. My hands move methodically as I have done this a million times before. Before we leave, I give out my last order to him.
“I will now bring you to your house. Stay out of trouble.” And with that, I leave for his house and afterward return to my primary residence. It’s well after midnight, and the only thing that is keeping me awake is seeing Lana on my monitors.
“I’ll see you very soon, little hummingbird.”
9
Lana
Do you want to know what it feels like to be in a constant state of worry? Well, I do. And it’s not for the reasons I thought they would be. I feel like trouble is going to come in at any moment, and I’m anticipating its arrival.
I’m cleaning the coffee machine when my boss calls out to me.
“Lana, come over here.” He seems to be in an okay mood?
The lies we tell ourselves.
I go over to my boss, who is in the kitchen finishing up and barking orders at our chef.
“How can I help?” I ask him as he turns around and crosses his arms. The worried look on his face matches exactly how I’m feeling.
“Don’t you find it weird that the creep isn’t here yet?” Maybe he has some social decency left in him. Just as I am about to start changing my opinion of him, he strikes. “Normally, he should behere by now harassing you.” I want to take the plate closest to me and throw it at his head.
Humanity will silence its voice when money is at stake. That’s why you have to make it sing.
“I don’t know where he is.” I feign innocence because I don’t give two shits where he is. Just as I am about rejoice in the fact that the asshole isn’t here, my boss’s face lights up and he points behind me.
“There he is. Come on, Lana, get to it.” He shoos me away like I’m a petulant child, and I purse my lips in controlled anger. But I do as I’m told, and I go to serve the said creep. As I’m walking up to him, I notice his demeanor is different.
Did the monster finally get to him?
“Hi, how are you? Will it be the usual?” I ask the creep, but he doesn’t look up. He keeps staring at one spot on the table. As if avoiding me will make any trouble in his life go away.
Don’t get me wrong, I welcome the distance, but it leaves me wondering.
“Yes, Lana. I appreciate your kindness.” He speaks flatly, but I can sense something else. Fear. The cadence in his voice can’t mask the detachment from his usual way of talking, which is pretty annoying. Most of the time when he opens his mouth, it’s almost in a singsong type of way.
Don’t overanalyze when you are working, Lana.
“My pleasure, and coming right up.” As I turn around, my mouth is slightly open. I’m trying to decipher the sudden change in his way of just being here. I wait on this asshole’s order, and when I bring it out to him, his hands are under the table like he is holding on to a secret.
One I need to unravel, because what if it worked? What if he finally realized that he should stop harassing me?
While I wait on other patrons, the creep is finishing his dinner in complete silence. I’ve glanced at him a couple of times in thepast hour, and he sits there like he wants to be somewhere else. When I go over to him to ask if he needs something else, he shakes his head and asks for the check.
