He knows why he’s here. He knows who Broadway is. He knows his loose connection to Dante Carrow means nothing.
He knows his death is a matter of time and he wants that time reduced to a minimum. I can’t blame him. Arthur’s just getting started. He’s shoved five different knife handles into Amadeus’s ass and made him come twice.
He cried the first time, swearing on everything that he’s not gay. That’s he’snormal.The homophobic piece of shit.
It hit our gay friend Arthur quite hard and the laugh that bubbled from his chest was far from amused.
“Give it a few more orgasms,”he said.
And although his hands shook at the beginning of this torture session, Arthur managed his jitters like a pro.
It’s been a while since we had anyone as determined to join the ranks as him. I think Violet’s the reason he even considered the idea. They were close while she was working the bar alongside him. I think he misses her company now Broadway’s put her on bed rest for her pregnancy.
That over-the-top protectiveness manifests itself in how careful Broadway is when choosing who’s allowed to visit his girl and where he takes her. Arthur hasn’t got a green light yet.
“Let’s continue,” Broadway tells Arthur over his shoulder. “Wine bottle next.”
“You don’t have to do it,” I say, when Arthur’s nodding face pales a shade or two. “Say the word and you’re off the hook. This is a lot even for me.”
“No, I’m good,” he replies, cracking his neck.
He rolls a new pair of latex gloves past his elbows then shoves the puke-and-semen-covered tennis ball into Amadeus’smouth. The victim’s eyes go wide, watering in seconds. The muscles in his abdomen contract as the gag reflex sets in.
I doubt he has anything left in his stomach he could eject, considering the puddle of puke on the floor, but it doesn’t stop his body from heaving. Sweat coats his bare back, glistening under the clinical lights, his cock pointing down, half-hard, legs spread wide.
He swings with every nauseating tremor passing through him, screaming something incomprehensible.
“Lose the lube,” Broadway tells Arthur. “And use this.” He grabs the bottle of Bourbon we emptied, handing it over.
It’s much wider than a wine bottle.
“Shit, that’ll hurt,” Koby mutters, taking a slow swig from his glass. “I thought you’d hit your darkest when you choked that other guy with his own dick.”
“I thought using huskies was beyond fucked up,” I pipe in, goosebumps crawling up my arms at the reminder of that cold day in the middle of an Alaskan nowhere. “But this... this is a whole new level of crazy.”
Broadway’s eyes darken a notch, his knuckles paling as he takes a sip of Bourbon, pushing aside whatever memories are clouding his head.
“They deserved much worse for what they did to Violet.”
I don’t disagree, but I don’t agree, either.
I have no experience with these things. I have no idea what it’s like to fall in love. To care about someone the way Carter cares about Hailey, and Broadway about Violet. How should I know what it feels like when your girl gets hurt? I tried imagining it, but imagination rarely matches reality.
If this is Broadway’s definition of justice, if it helps heal the trauma plaguing Violet, then who am I to say anything other than“I’m here for you”?
Broadway, Koby, Carter... they’re my family. They will always be the most important people in my life. I owe them everything. If keeping Broadway company with a glass of Bourbon while Violet’s rapist gets a taste of his own medicine is what he needs from me, then count me in.
“Is Carter coming by to watch the show?” Koby asks, focusing on Broadway instead of the macabre sight thirty feet away.
Arthur’s hands are shaking like crazy as he grabs the bottle. How the fuck he plans on fitting it inside Amadeus is anyone’s guess. It looks impossible from where I stand.
“I doubt it. Hailey’s caught a cold. She’s feverish and he’s probably losing his shit,” Broadway says, humor clear in his tone.
I can’t help the chuckle falling from my lips. He says it like Carter’s behavior is bat-shit crazy. Out of the ordinary. Incomprehensible.
Can he not see he’s just as fucking crazy about Violet?
Since they found out she’s pregnant, he’s cranked his obsessiveness to infinity. I’m pretty sure he’d crawl out of his skin if Violet caught a cold right now.
