Chapter 3 : You Are A Monster
Chapter 3: You Are A Monster
Evelin
Laura and I sat in the sitting room, just having our cup of tea in silence. You come to find that there isn't much to say after nearly being killed. One of the staff name, Carol. She is an adorable old woman and has been around as long as I have. I am not normally a tea drinker but she does make a special blend I happened to enjoy when I need comfort. She calls it ‘a mother's brew.’ Since I have never had a mother, I liked the idea of it. Sometimes I wonder who my mother is and get annoyed that my father just took me away from her. He said she was a beautiful woman just like me but a sex worker and he told me he liked the idea of having a child, just not with her. She obviously didn't fight for me, so I would try to think about the fact that my father took me away because he did want me.
My mind seems to be all over the place tonight, thinking of scattering things.
This is all going to be settled, angel. Your uncle will fix this.” My aunt tried reassuring me but it honestly sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
“Have you ever been attacked like this before? I don't remember that ever happening.” I asked.
“Not to our family, no.” She replied truthfully and something strange settled in my gut.
The headlights, the arm, the gun, the crunch and the ping of metal.
“So something is obviously wrong.” I pointed out a frightening truth.
“Let's not jump to conclusions, things happen.” She said before taking a sip of her tea. I rolled my eyes but didn't press further. The phone rang just after and it was Milo's name that flashed across my phone screen. I picked up the call.
“Pack a bag, Eve.”
Anthony POV
I could hear the shackles clinking together from the other room while Sergio Bellini of the Bellini Crime family and I were checking our weapons to make sure we each had a full clip. I always carry a full clip, Sergio is my best friend and I used his nickname more commonly than his actual name which is Razor.
“How is this going to end, Tony?” He asked. I tucked my gun into the waistband of my slack and began to roll up the black sleeve of my shirt. Glancing up at him, I just smirked.
He released a heavy breath, knowing he was in for a show today. I was done wasting time. I walked into the room with the shackles and paused in front of the man hanging from them. I owned this building for the simple fact that there is hidden underground which served as a vault in the twenties when the land above it was an old bank. It is not on any updated blueprints which means it is the perfect place to keep prisoners that I don't want to be found. The shackles are hanging down from the ceiling and are made to bind the wrists of the prisoner and keep them stretched for me with raw wrists and tired legs. I have had this man here for about two days now and the wait is more torturous than anything else. Well, that is not exactly true, I love torture and I have distributed plenty.
The man's head was lulling downwards as his body tipped slightly forward against the hold of the chains. His clothes were dirty and bloodied from two days ago when I beat him to a pulp before chaining him here.
“Hey, wake up!” I slapped the asshole upside the head.
At the recollection of my voice, he quickly tried scurrying backwards but his arms wouldn't let him move very far. His eyes were wild inside his head, trying to read me and the situation unfolding.
“Please,” that was all he managed and his voice hoarse from having him scream for a long time.
Another perk to this hidden portion of the building below ground is that you can't hear shit upstairs at the restaurant business front. I stood in front of him in a wide stance, hands in my pocket as I observed the frightened man.
“Now the last time I asked you if you knew why you were here, you told me no. Has your answer changed?” I asked him.
“Y…yes, I know why.” His voice was weak, defeated and pathetic.
“Remind me,” I said, my own voice remained calm for now. Sometimes, patience is scarier than an outburst of anger. Not that I am great at containing my temper.
“I had disrespected you. At the sit down. I disrespected you…I am sorry.” He was going to bargaining. Men handled torture and near death in many different ways, I have experienced them all and most are pathetic. The fear they show in their eyes when they realize death is standing over them or the tears, the snort noses and spitting mouths out of sheer panic.
Others try to remain strong and proud and those are my favorite type of men to break down. There are those who bargain and beg and those who break and almost become lifeless before I even deliver death to them. Angry men who try to scream and piss me off enough to kill them quickly, all sorts of reactions when a person is facing suffering and ultimately their ending. People are so afraid to die. Is it pride or is it the unknown of what waits for them on the other side? If hell is real, I know where I am going and I find no use in fearing it. I have been called Devil himself, more than one. Maybe I am a sadist.
“I don't like being disrespected, especially in front of my own men and yours. Now, your people requested that sit-down and I gave it to you. Too bad you wasted both of our time because not only is your family not going to get my cooperation in gaining access to the right channels for the export but I demanded your head and your crew gave you to me. How does that feel? That they care more about pleasing me that saving you?” I smirked at his newfound resolve to glare at me.
He fought against the chains and the clicking filled the room again. A barren room with nothing but rows of chains and stained cement floors.
“Just get it over with,” he spatted. He was clearly fearing the wait more than the actual death. He believes it will be delivered quickly.
“Do you know what separates me from the goons that usually handle ending someone of your rank? I fucking enjoy it, the thrill of your screams and sobs only makes me wish to do it slowly and savor it. You shouldn't have disrespected me, Enzo. You really shouldn't have.” I smiled but it wasn't one of amusement. It is twisted and they called it Devil’s smirk. The tremble in the man’s body school at the chains again.
“You are fucking deranged, you are a monster.”
