Manners with the Devil

32

L U C A S       S A N T O R O

6am was the deadline they gave us to hand over Sebastien, alive.

1am was the time I was down there myself, face to face with him. Ready to seize all the information I can.

Sebastien doesn't know he is going to be free in the next five hours, so I will make sure to torture him to the point he thinks he will die and for him to beg a quick death.

"I'm not fucking SPEAKING." Sebastien grunts, pushing his body forward, trying to intimidate me.

Such Fucking douche bag.

Sebastien has been down here for days. His black hair is matted up. Bruises display down his limbs and face. Lines of blood droop down from cuts, and some spots of blood are stained on his own skin.

Overall, he looks dead.

I step over to him. Slowly. 

"You see, you're going to give me the information I need. And then you will have a quick and easy death." I lie. 

He doesn't reply. He doesn't even show a reaction.

His eyes just stare upon the blood-stained, concrete floor.

Boring fuck.

A loud grunt echos in the room as I push a knife inside his flesh. 

It remains there.

A smile appears on my face as screams flow throughout the air in the room. His body jolts side to side, trying to free himself from my hell.

It excites me.

Flames me.

This is what the fucker deserves.
And I'll carry on until I get what I want. I'll always get what I want.

"FIIIIIIIINE AAAAAAAAAAAA." He cries, tears streaming down his cheeks.

The knife exits his flesh, blood dripping off of it as I bring it back to me. His breathing continues to pant heavily. I just stood over him, watching him to near his death.

"What to the French want from Giavanna?" I spit, kicking his leg up, making him flinch.

He doesn't reply, instead he carries on grunting in pain.

My eyes roll, and I walked backwards to the silver tray holding weapons at the back wall. I hovered my hands over them all, then picked up the sharpest knife there. My feet then walk back to where I was standing before. Right infront of the stupid bitch.

The noises echoing from his mouth stop.

"Your going to speak." I spit.

"You really think I'd give you information about my Mafia." He sighs.

My eyebrows raises. He's doing something.

"Carry on." I order.

"The Russians. They want her. And want to kill her."

My grip tightened on the knife as those words exited his mouth. My heart felt dull. Those words in my mind make me want to scream. To kill. To die.

And want to kill her. Those words are haunting. Traumatic. Hurtful.

Never again to hear those words. Ever.

"Why would they want to kill her?" I contain my anger, stepping closer towards the body laying on the floor.

He doesn't reply.

"Speak." I yell.

He still doesn't reply.

For the second time, the blade of my knife smoothly enters his skin. I carried on pushing it down until I hit one of his bones.

He screams.

I smile in pleasure.

"Please, I've gave you enough," he pants,"Just kill me."

Blood oozes from his thigh, and trails down the concrete floor.

He carries on screaming.

"He-her MOTHER-" He shouts.

I pause. I freeze.

I slide the blade from his flesh.

Hurriedly, he presses his hands on the cut, screeching in pain.

"Speak." I demand.

He swallows, looks up at me, like he only just realised that talking is why I stabbed him in the first place, then begins to speak.

Good boy.

"Her mother, Victoria, The Demon, whatever you call her, killed Adrian's sister."

Not a surprise.

"So, Adrian wants to kill Giavanna as revenge?"

The words anger me as they slip away from my mouth.

The two words I dislike together
Kill and Giavanna.

He shrugs, still clawing onto his cut in agony.

"Sebastien. Fucking SPEAK." I growl, curiously wanting more information.

"Yes. Adrian wants revenge on Victoria, so he wants to kill Giavanna." He pants.

The Demon wouldn't care less if anyone killed her daughter. Adrian knows that.

Something else is going on here.

And I'll know what is going on.

My body pivots round. My body moves to the door.

"I'll be back." I grunt.