Fiery Revenge⎪✓

18

☀︎

Entering the room again, I stare at the pained expression of David Matthews sitting right in front of me. He looks at me with such hatred, it itches in my fingers to inflict pain on him. He tempts me and it truly is essential for him to stay in his lane right now. 

"So, David Matthews, have you decided what type of answer you wish to give me? I did just allow you to have some time, about three hours I believe."

"I don't want to tell you shit," He spits, his voice has a dangerous edge and it makes me smirk at him. "Kill me instead."

"Now, now, we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves. You seemed so willing to cooperate earlier, what happened since then?" My tone is mocking him slightly, he appears to be riled up by my question and that entertains me. 

Grabbing the corkscrew from the back pocket of my denim jeans, I turn it in my hand as my eyes pierce his sinisterly. "This tool is a personal favorite of mine, would you like to know why?"

"No," He responds. 

My eyes catch sight of his feet and I tighten the rope against his ankles, he winces in pain and I know the blood circulation is slowly being cut off. 

Must be painful. 

Grabbing the tool again, I place the sharp end against his jean covered thigh, "It's a personal favorite of mine, because it gets a fucking point across."

While saying this I slowly turn the tool in my hand, it pierces his skin and digs itself mercilessly into his flesh. He yells in horror and I tut at him, "Don't wake up the neighbors, Dave. They like to watch."

"I hate you!" He spits. 

"Why? I'm lovely."

He shakes his head and I turn the tool once more in my hand, his silence turns to screams and a sinister scoff leaves my lips. "Will you tell me who wants you to find Martinelli?" I ask him, the tone behind my voice extremely indifferent. 

"I can't," He coughs. 

"Oh, but you can," I say to him and tilt my head to the side, pushing the tool entirely into his leg and the blood curdling scream is like music to my ears. I pull it from his body again, his open flesh staring back at us with mockery. 

He needs to speak up. I'll only make it more painful for him, I own no limits. "I don't want to use my other tools, too much cleaning. Now, tell me what's going on in your head, esci fuori dal nido." (Get it off your chest).

"You do realise that I'd have to kill myself if I told you," He spits at me, his voice cracked from screaming bloody murder. 

"Don't you worry about that, darling; I'll kill you myself."

"Then why the fuck should I even tell you?" His anger isn't to be controlled. He is in pain and he is pissed. 

"It's your choice entirely; do you wish for an easy death or do you wish for me to get a hell of a lot of cleaning to do?" 

"Will you kill me either way?"

"L'idiozia," (The idiocy) I scoff at him. "Do you expect me to set you free after this? Have you never watched any movies on this, are you that fucking dense?"

"I'm not stupid."

"Then you must already know how this will end, ho ragione?" (Am I right?) My words seem to register in his head, panic sets in and he stares at me in absolute disgust. 

The sight isn't unfamiliar to me, I've come to terms with the fact that everyone will always hate what I do to them. Especially if it includes torturing them for answers. 

I mean, I get it somehow.

"I don't want to tell you answers only for you to kill me," He states. 

"Fine, then allow me to not only kill you, but also crush the entirety of your soul. Allow me to shatter the image of who you thought you were, allow me to absolutely destroy your whole body, mind and soul. Allow me that," My words scare him, as much is clear by the stiffening of his body. 

Taking the corkscrew again I stab it forcefully into his leg and he screams in pain, the absolute horror written on his face when I pull it out has me convinced he will crack under the pressure. Stabbing again, my ears zero in on his labored breaths when he tries to swallow the painful screeches. 

His body is begging, pleading, for a release. 

Placing the sharp end onto the fingernail on his thumb, his panicked eyes cut to mine and he squirms against the chains. Desperately trying to free himself. I apply pressure, as much as I can, the screw pierces his nail and suddenly falls through the entirety of his thumb. 

His nail has loosened from the skin and is pulled off the second I remove the corkscrew, he can't swallow his sounds this time as his screams fill up the entirety of the room. Drowning me in his pitiful pleas for me to stop, for me to calm down, for me to realise that he is a human. 

But doesn't he know by now, the issue isn't that he's human; the issue is that I'm not. 

Not anymore. 

Grabbing the thumb on his other hand, he tenses in his seat and I know what is coming next. "No, no, no! Please! No! I'll tell you! Let me tell you everything!" His voice is barely there anymore, but the pure terror hiding behind his words is clear to me. He fears the outcome of being in here, he fears me and what I have in store for him. 

Tilting my head to the side, "You had me thinking you would cooperate once, I won't be that stupid again."

Reaching for his hand, his bruised body freezes again, even I can feel the shift in the atmosphere when he releases the hold he has on his walls, "What are you doing? No! No, no! Listen to me, please! I'll tell you everything, it's a promise. Let me keep my word to you, please."

Throwing the corkscrew away from us, I grab his chin roughly in my hand and tilt his head upwards. His eyes meet mine instantly, "Start talking, mostro." (monster). 

And so he does, with every last bit of energy he has. He answers every last question I have, even adding details and before I know it, his body is hanging from the chair. 

A bullet placed skillfully right between his eyes, I got what I wanted. 

He got killed.