The Maid's Guide to the Mafia

45

(This should go without saying, but if you are uncomfortable with graphic description of violence and torture, than do not read this.)

Cullen's body fell as it collided with the metal chains of the cellar.

The warehouse reeked of blood, limps from it's latest victims blinded his vision as the dried liquid feasted around the ripped off stomach splattered on the ground, now the diet of the rats surrounding it.

However, that was the least of his worries.

Alister gave him no time to settle in his new living space before he grabbed him be the jagular, the knife  in his hand scraping the bone that was gradually starting to stick out.

"S-sir! What-"

His pleads came to an end as Alister crushed the surface of his larynx, the sharp side of the object digging deeper into his flesh, the smirk on his face widening as he heard the first course of yells rip out of his throat.

Cullen's eyes widened in fear as he watched the monster's beastly eyes lean in closer to left side of his face, knife still at his neck, one push to end his life.

A merciful way out.

"You will pay for each scar on her body." He lowly whispered, his tone entangled with the promise of peril and demise.
The threat rand loudly into Cullen's ears, shivers of pure fear sinking down his spine at the realization.

He knew.

At that very second, Cullen tried anything for the desperate begs caught by the edge of the knife to come out.
Words pleading for their only purpose of gaining mercy out of the fate bestowed on him.
Words fighting for the hope of a fast death committed hastily by the beast's hands.

He knew exactly what went around in this dungeon. The sound of the heart torn out before the man's eyes, the shrill screams of the guiltless women holding on to any type of emotion that proved they were still alive. The guards losing any shred of humanity with each crack of the bone.

That was common.

He knew that better than anyone else, his responsibility only tied to the place.
His job, his earning, his legacy...

His downfall.

But if all that was the normal procedure designed to apply to any man, regardless of how insignificant their crime was,

What was to happen to him?

The instant pierce of pain broke him out of his thought, shattering all his senses, his sight being the only one left to go as he watched the Don plunge the knife into his skin. Ripping it in half as the knife with the sharpest blade designed for pure agony traced the veins down his feeble arm.

With the  palm of the man's hand still firmly crushing his mouth, Cullen was unable to say a word.
The blood spurred off of his arm, the red liquid contrasting the while cloth blocking his muscles.

"Tell me everything you've done to her. I want to hear it from you."
Alister spoke calmly.

Too calmly.

With a swift motion, his hand left his lips which immediately roared in the pleasureless euphoria dripping down his fingers.
Agony filled his brain, his yells cutting through his bruised larynx as he hopelessly prayed that the touch of death would come soon.