Baldie growls and comes towards me, but Andrew slides in front of him and, for a moment, I see why he’s the torturer. Anger flickers across his face, and he seems to grow larger. Baldie, aka Franny, backs down, swearing as he turns away, and then Andrew relaxes, slouching again and grinning like he hasn’t got a care in the world.
But I’ve seen it now, what he hides underneath. The true Andrew, he likes pain, he likes it to hurt, this should be…fucking horrible.
Andrew turns and shrugs. “Behave, he might kill you.”
“Yeah, that ain’t gonna work. People have been telling me to behave since I was a kid, and look where I am.” I shrug in an ‘aww shucks’ type way as he heads over to a tray and sets out his equipment. “So tell me, how long have you been doing this?”
“Oh, a few years,” he replies, as he picks up a scalpel.
“Get a lot of customers?” I inquire calmly.
He steps before me with a cruel smile. “You’re a strange one, do you know that? Never mind, they all bleed red.”
“How freaked would you be if my blood came out blue now?” I laugh, but it turns into a groan. I grind my teeth as he slashes across my face, a light cut, but enough that I feel blood drip down my cheek. “Motherfucker, that’s the goddamn money maker, kid.”
“Apologies.” He nods and drags the blade down my arm. “Is that better?”
“Much, thanks. Don’t fuck up my tats, though, or Garrett will be pissed, and last time he had to tattoo me…well, let’s just say it was a happy ending all around.”
Andrew grins. “Of course.” He starts to slice the knife across the top of my feet, and I let out a little scream which has Baldie laughing.
“Hey, Franny, you think your mum called you that because of your giant vagina?” I call breathlessly.
Andrew steps it up a notch then. When he slices across my stomach, I have no time for talking, all I can do for the next however long is breathe and scream. When he moves back, my head hangs as I struggle to hold in my tears, so being the crazy bitch I am, I twist my wrist in the barbed wire, cutting it so the pain pushes back the waterworks.
They can have my screams, nothing else.
When I’m more me, I raise my head and spit blood at Baldie and laugh. “That was fun, what’s next?”
“Tell me how to get into their apartment?” Andrew questions. Ah, so they don’t know that much.
“I don’t know, they like to blindfold me, the kinky bastards.” I grin.
He stabs me again, and I groan but breathe through it, the agony surging inside me now. Shit, shit, shit. Do not fucking pass out, Roxy. When I feel like I’m not going to, I smile at him, my lips feeling a bit numb. “Can I call a friend for the answer?”
He sighs and wipes the blade. “Come on, Roxy, it would be a shame to waste such a woman. Tell me what I need to know. Tell me everything about the Vipers.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna hard pass on that one. No passing go, no collecting your money, bitch, those fuckers are insane.”
He crouches and grabs my knees, peering up at me. “More scared of them than me?”
“Hell fucking yes. Did you not hear me? They are insane, and they like me! Imagine what they do to people they don’t like…” I grin wider then. “Imagine what they will do to you for touching me. Last time, they broke the guy’s hands and ripped out his tongue…I wonder, will you scream?”
I watch as he lifts the knife covered in blood. It reminds me of Diesel, and weirdly, my pussy clenches…like, really, ho? Now is not the time.
Yeah, I’ve successfully pissed Andrew off.
He backhands me, and my head snaps to the side as blood fills my mouth. Spitting it out, I turn back around with a laugh, grinning widely at him, blood undoubtedly covering my teeth and lips if his disgusted sneer is anything to go by. “You call this torture? My foreplay is harder. Come on, you can do better,” I taunt.
“Tell me!” he roars in my face, impatient now that he’s realising how hard it will be to break me.
Licking my lips, I look between his eyes. There’s no way I’m betraying my guys. They tell you under torture to reveal information that’s not important and is close to the truth, but no way am I risking that. Diesel would murder me, love or not. I know it’s going to bring a world of pain, but I can take it.
I can survive it.
Sucking in a deep breath, I nod seriously, my whole body aching, blood dripping down my curves, and agony ripping through my veins. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you…”
They both wait expectantly as I try to make myself look meek and broken, even letting tears fill my eyes, real ones from the hurt. Sucking in another painful breath, my ribs protesting, I belt out, “And I will always love you…” Andrew flinches from how loud I sing.
He backhands me again, cutting me off mid-song, so I spit the blood out and spin back to him. “No? Not feeling it? What about some Metallica? No, what about Tay-Tay? You look like a secret Swifty fan!”
Baldie steps forward, aiming his gun at me. “Make her talk,” he demands. “We don’t have long before they come for her.”
I grin at that. “Franny, they already are, and you’re so fucked. Now where was I? Oh, Tay-Tay—” I start to sing and, with a growl, he rips open the door and storms off. “Wait!” I call. “We were having so much fun, Franny! I didn’t even get to my originals yet!”
Andrew sighs as if he’s disappointed in me. “Roxy, this could have been so easy. You could have died quickly.”
“Yeah, I never liked the easy option. What can I say? I like them hard.” I grin at him.
He rips off that calm mask now, though, and I know I’ve got a world of pain coming. Let’s hope I can survive this shit, because my Vipers are coming, I know that, and if they find me dead…the city wouldn’t survive their wrath.
The time passes slowly, excruciatingly slowly, like the pain flowing through me all over my body. He’s masochistic, not as good as D, but it still does the trick. My screams ring out around us, and tears finally fall, covering my cheeks. Blood pools beneath me, my fingers slippery with it. He pulls some toenails, breaks some toes. He snaps my finger. He stabs, slices, and cuts. He covers my head in a bag and pours water across it until I can’t breathe, until I think I might drown, and when he rips it free, water flows from my mouth to my chest, my lungs burning from the icy liquid.
“Thanks, I was thirsty,” I croak.
He’s trying his hardest. His job and life are on the line if he doesn’t get the information, but here’s the thing…I would die before I betrayed them, before I betrayed anyone who gave me a chance, who was kind to me…and my Vipers?
They love me.
And, weirdly enough, I fucking love them too.
So if I die here, alone in a goddamn nasty room, then so be it. I’ve been flirting with death since I was a kid, and dying for the people you love seems like a good way to go.
Andrew can’t change that. He can break my body over and over again, he can make me scream and cry, he can make me beg for death, but not one word about my men will pass my lips. I think he’s beginning to realise that when he sits back and watches me.
“I have to admire your loyalty.” He sighs. “Irritating, but impressive. Tell me, did they really buy you?”
I nod, wetting my lips.
“So, why the loyalty?” he asks curiously.
“’Cause we started off badly, but now they are my everything.” I shrug. “You know how it is, let’s face it, every romantic story is fucked up in some way. Romeo and Juliet? They were fucking kids, and they died. Don’t even get me started on that atonement, Jesus, I cried like a baby. Loyalty is earned, not bought.”
“And they earned it?” he queries.
I don’t answer, and he nods. “I have to update my boss, think on that.” He stands and leaves, and I watch him go, the slam of the door and click of the lock loud in the dank room.
Have they earned it? His question reverberates in my head.
There is no question we are all messed up and our love is weird…but loyalty? Yes, they earned it, and they will continue to, because I know they will do anything to protect me. Save me. Give me anything I need.
When no one else did, they saw past the attitude and scars, and kept going until they got to me.
I’m not a child or stupid. I know if I betray them they will kill me, even if they love me, but that’s not why I don’t do it. It’s because I couldn’t stand to hurt them that way, even to save my own life, and if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.
Sometimes in life, you meet people worth dying for, and they are usually the same people who are also worth living for. But you can’t always have both. If all I can offer them now is my silence and death, I’ll do it.
I just wish I could take some of these fuckers down with me.
My men might be criminals and deal in death and power, but when it comes down to it, all they really want is love. A family. I refuse to break that.
They might be my strength, but I’m their weakness.
Just then, an explosion sounds above me, and the whole building rocks as dust falls from the ceiling. I smirk, knowing exactly who it is.
I don’t need no fucking hero to come save me, I can save myself, yet not once did I doubt they would help me, help me save myself, and I was right.
For once, someone didn’t let me down.
And I refuse to disappoint them.
It’s time to get free and meet my boys, then we are killing all these motherfuckers.
Okay, Roxy, time to rock this shit.As more explosions and gunshots go off upstairs, I look around before an idea comes to mind. It’s a stupid fucking idea, but it’s better than nothing. So, rocking from side to side, I build up momentum.
The chair starts to wobble, rocking with me, the creak loud in the room, but it’s drowned out by the fight going on. I swing harder and, with a yelp, the chair falls to the side. Crashing to the floor, I groan as I bang my head, but the chair explodes. I roll onto my back and moan, lying there for a moment. I landed on my left shoulder, which isn’t working. Shit, I think I dislocated it.
Fuck me, John Wick made that shit look easy. He lied, it hurts like a son of bitch, worse than that first cock in the ass.
Sitting up, I notice the chair pieces are still attached to my arms and legs by the wire. Shit. Smashing my wrist into the floor, I manage to get the wood free and then unwrap each wire before doing the same to my ankles. I’m only able to use one hand, since my other arm is hanging funny. I whimper as I peel the barbs away, watching the blood gushing from my ankles and hands. The bitches.
It’s slow going, really slow going, and when I’m done, I’m panting and drenched in sweat. Now to get the door open. Pushing up to stand on unsteady bare feet, I hold my arm across my chest protectively, wincing at the pain racing through me.
Here’s another dumb idea.
“Yo, Franny, you out there?” I scream. “Franny, I’m free, better come get me!”
The door clicks and opens, revealing Franny. When he sees me, he growls and comes at me. Here goes nothing…
I pretend to fall, grabbing the bottom of the chair arm in my good hand, before I leap up as he gets closer and smash it into his stupid face again and again with a scream. He howls and lurches back, trying to block me, his gun dropping to the floor.
I keep smashing until he’s on the ground. Panting, I grab the gun in my other hand and press it to his head. His eyes widen, blood flowing down his face. “Bye, Franny, been nice knowing you.” I pull the trigger. Clutching the gun closer, I groan as I step towards the door.
God, I want a nap.