A Debt To Pay

11

"What?" I gasped.

I shook my head frantically. "No, please Logan, please don't." I hated myself for begging, hated being just as weak and pathetic as the man strung up in front of me.

But I couldn't watch someone be tortured. I couldn't be responsible for the amount of pain he had to endure before he was finally put out of his misery.

The man was bawling his eyes out now, babbling prayers and promises and pleas in such desperation I felt sorry for him, despite him being the sole reason I was here.

"Be quiet!" Logan ordered, grabbing the whip from the desk and swinging it back before it ripped through the air and thwacked against the man's face. Blood spurted around him, dripping onto me while tears filled my eyes and I had to squeeze them shut to stop them from falling.

"Ah, ah, ah." Logan cooed and I peeled my eyes open partially to see him crouched before me, shaking his head at me. "Eyes open," he reminded me with a grin.

"Please don't make me watch Logan. Please, I can't," I begged, trembling in my seat.

"I told you I would enjoy breaking you." He smirked before rising to his full height and turning back to his victim. "Now, shall we start?"

"No! Please! Please!" The man screamed now, his voice bouncing off the walls that surrounded him while his eyes locked on me. "Please help me," he begged and I frowned.

"What the hell do you expect me to do? I'm tied to a chair." I scoffed and Logan rolled his eyes, seemingly bored.

"She can't help you. Nobody can," he explained, obviously pleased with himself. "This is what happens when you steal from me." He swung the whip again and it cracked against the man's stomach, shredding through his shirt and skin instantly.

He let out another pained scream and I fought to keep my eyes on the blood dripping down his torso and pooling on the floor, rather than turning away.

"Now then, what exactly did you do with the shipment you stole?" Logan asked him after whipping his back several times. The man no longer screamed and begged, too much of a blubbering mess to speak.

Logan now held a knife against his chest, lightly tracing the skin over his heart with a sadistic smile on his lips. "Hmm?" He cooed when he went ignored.

He pressed the knife deeper into his chest, drawing blood and the man whimpered. "I sold it," he grizzled. His head was hanging at a funny angle and he looked more like a rag doll than a human.

"Ah, I see. And what about the profit? What did you do with that?" The knife suddenly plunged into his side and a sob escaped my lips at the scream that erupted from the poor man.

"Logan please?" I begged but went ignored.

When his question wasn't answered, Logan asked again. "What did you do with my money?"

"I...," he stammered, his lip quivering, "I went... to a club."

"Divinity, right?" Logan hummed as he removed the knife, causing a waterfall of blood to cascade down the man's abdomen. "You bought some drinks? And some women? Killed a few men?"

I frowned when the man gulped, shaking his head. "I was drunk."

"Yes, you were." Logan nodded in agreement. "But those were my men. In my club. And that was my money."

"I can get it. Please, if you let me go, I can bring you the money." Hope sparked in the mans faded eyes and he forced his head up to face Logan.

"I already collected." He shrugged and a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. He wouldn't spare the man. No way.

"W-what do you mean?" Again, saliva spilled down the man's chin along with blood as Logan dragged the knife across his cheek.

"I mean, the man who you stole the shipment from owed me that money. He couldn't pay me back so I had to take one of his daughters as payment." He turned the man's face so they were both looking at me and I desperately wanted to wipe away the small silver tear that had dried on my cheek but my hands were still pinned to the arm of the chair. "Isn't she pretty?"

The man whispered pleas and begs under his breath while the tip of the knife trailed around his face, drawing trickles of blood. Logan ran it along his other cheek and down his neck before pressing it deeply into the side of his throat. "I said, isn't she pretty?" He spat and the man sobbed.

"Yes, yes she is," he muttered, wincing as the knife was pulled out of his neck.

"You're the reason she is here, away from her family. Don't you think you deserve this?" He taunted, striding back to the desk and dropping the knife. In its place, he took the matches and headed to the fire place on the other side of the room.

"I didn't know." His eyes started to droop as his blood still poured out of the gashes on his body, coating his skin in a thick layer of deep red.

"That's not what I asked." Logan had lit the fire and now held a metal poker in the flames that danced in front of him. Another tear fell when I realised what he was going to do but the man couldn't see, he wouldn't know what was coming.

"Stop it. Stop it please," I begged again, shaking my head.

"Look away and this will go on for hours," Logan threatened, finally looking at me. He looked victorious and I hated it more than the torture going on in front of me. So, I grit my teeth and glared right back into his dark eyes.

Logan stared me down for a few moments before turning back to his new toy. He was behind him so, still, the man had no clue that a hot poker was inches from his skin. "Answer my question," he ordered. "Do you think you deserve to be punished for what you did to this girl?"

Either way, I was sure his answer wouldn't change his fate but he seemed hell bent on trying. "No!" He demanded. "No, I didn't know. I will give you the money and you can let her go! She's just some cheap whore anyway and she-." His sentence was interrupted as the burning hot poker thrust into his back, piercing his skin and scorching his insides.

A raw, agonising scream ripped through the air and I winced, almost feeling his pain in my own back. The scream seemed to last for hours, never dying down as the poker stayed lodged in his back.

"I think you deserve it," Logan spat, eyes ablaze. "But you've annoyed me now," he admitted with a sigh.

He dropped the poker in its stand and rounded him so he could face him once again. He was silent for a long time, sizing him up with his arms crossed over his chest. He assessed the damage he had done to the guy with his usual stone hard expression.

"Time to die," he announced.

"No! No! Please Logan don't do-." He begged for his life one last time before a gunshot ripped through the air and a small bullet slammed into his chest, just millimetres from his heart.

I frowned when I noticed he was still breathing, whimpering and sobbing quietly. "You missed," I stated.

"No, but shooting his heart would've ended him quickly. He will eventually bleed out and die." He shrugged and approached me, crouching in front of me. "Back to the office." He grinned, unlocking the cuffs and dragging me from the limp body dripping with blood.