Indulgence ( PATIENCE #2)

5. Danger Magnet

Hardin

I am good at reading people. Extremely good as a matter of fact. More so because, I have been taught to do so properly , from a very young and tender age. I have been taught to peel off people's word mask and strip their reality naked.

Well also a little bit runs in our family, so you can also call it manufacturing default, if you want. But yeah, there's that.

In our world, people lie so much that it can get tough to survive, if you don't learn to read the original face from their sheild of lies. You will just get trampled over if you cannot sieve out the bullshits. So when that motherfucking leech Antonio François, kept stuttering at every answer and explanation to the interrogations, I knew he wasn't the kind of innocent, he was trying to show. I knew he wasn't actually a saint, who was being wronged. He wasn't the victim between two powerful forces.

Infact he was the exploiter here. He was not allowing the inhumanity to cease even when he could. He could choose to be on my side. But, Infact he was extorting from this opportunity for his own sake and basking in the war fire between the Vultures and our jealous opponents who has been the bane to our existence since the beginning of time.

A kitten.. He stuttered. And I suppressed the urge to laugh at his extremely stupid lie.

Was he fucking kidding me? He wanted me to believe that the helpless kicks and urgent knocks from the other side of the wooden door was of his pet...

A pet? He reckons that I am
a fool, and that too that low graded? Pathetic arse.

Well, without sparing his utter bullshit a mere importance I marched towards the door in lond sure steps. The second steady knock when I was almost near the door, equally filled with hope, but despair was a straight give away that it wasn't a fucking cat.

Somehow the thought of a possible human being helpless and faultless, rile up me up more, extracting more reason to not let François go free.

So when I actually knock down the chipped, cheap door off the hinges with a kick of my foot, the absence of a kitten, does not surprise me. My heart races amplifying the previous anger when I find the presence of a woman in the further corner of the dark store room. My eyes concentrating on the feeble soul lying on the floor. Her features slowly illuminating with the light flooding from the parking basement.

That mother fucker!!

Face, facing the dry wall, Hands tied. The body twistedly lying on the floor as if discarded, the dress that probably is till below the knee has hiked up revealing pale upper thigh.

My eyes burn at the vulnerability of the poor woman. My palms curl up in fists and my jaws clench up in vexation as I scan her and she reflects the sins of Antonio François.

Shutting my eyes carelessly to grant my eyes relief from the view infront of me I bite down on my lip harshly. An attempt to not kill that wanker. I turn straight back.

" So this is your kitten, huh??" I grit out then opening my eyes I zero it down on a very pale faced François. I am internally laughing at his audacity.

" Aurther, get her help.. " I bark in between, while my gaze stay focused on the criminal. The actual criminal who thinks treating women like this is not a crime.

As much as I am sympathetic towards the woman, I cannot touch her while she is on the floor, like this. It's already making me comfortable, bringing back horrendous memories. I cannot begin to imagine the emotional trauma she is being put into. But I am not that warm to grant a victim that kind of comfort. Also I feel somehow it's not right to look at her while her dress is hiked up. Uncomfortably for her, which I doubt she is going to appreciate if too many men stare at her ....