Page 33 of Dark Consequences

The bloody evidence litters the tile floor. The doctor’s head hangs forward heavy against his chest.

Looks uncomfortable.

Good.

While I’m busy filling a bucket of water, Michael and Enzo enter the room, arguing about how a bracelet is better than a necklace. Sighing hard, I bow my head at the sink and wonder what I can say or do to convince everyone to just leave me alone with the doctor.

Once satisfied with the water level, I turn around, aim, and promptly toss the entire contents onto Dr. Rodriguez. He wakes up immediately and starts yelling. It won’t do him any good, though. The room is completely soundproof.

“What the hell?” he shouts. “Let me go! You sick motherfuckers.”

“Such language is ill becoming of a doctor,” I comment.

“I don’t give a fuck! Who in their right mind kidnaps a man and tortures him? What do you want?”

“And what kind of man drugs and rapes an innocent woman before selling her?”

Dr. Rodriguez looks at me in confusion and pain. “What–what are you talking about, man? I already told the other one, I haven’t ever done something like that.”

“Come on, Joe. The more you lie, the more painful things are going to become.”

“I’m serious! I’m a doctor, for God’s sake!” he cries out. “We save lives.”

“That’s interesting.” I glance at the others, who are finally more interested in what’s going on than picking out gifts. “Have you guys ever heard of a doctor who treats their patients by selling them?”

Michael shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“Nope,” Dom adds.

“Nada,” Enzo says.

Looking back at the doctor, just the very idea of this bastard touching Lily, using her, abusing her over and over against her sends a hot surge of anger rushing through me until all I see is red.

Pulling my knife out, I bury it in his hand, effectively pinning it to the chair armrest. Then, with another knife, I slice off his pinky. The sight of blood squirting and the sound of his agony brings me pleasure deep in my dark soul, pleasing the devil on my shoulder. So I slice off his thumb too.

“Kind of hard to be a doctor without a thumb. Don’t you think so?” I comment casually while I study the severed digit before I flick it into the doctor’s screaming face. It falls to his lap and then the tile with a sick, wet sound.

“Help! Someone help me!”

The most annoying part of torture is the screaming. It hurts the ears and interrupts necessary conversation. If we didn’t need him able to talk, I would have poured battery acid down his throat already just to shut him up.

I drag a chair forward and plop down in front of the doctor. “So. Let’s get back to it then, Doc. Tell me about your time in Columbia six years ago.”

Joe tosses his head back and sobs. His face is wet from sweat and tears, growing pale from the pain and blood loss.

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe all the drugs have damaged his brain over the years,” Michael suggests.

I wouldn’t doubt it. “Let me refresh your memory.” I pull my phone out and open a picture of Lily dressed in her professional white coat. Evie sent it to me the other day when she ran a background check on her. Something I hated to do but understood was necessary. Turning it around, I ask, “Remember her?”

It takes a second, but then his eyes light up in recognition, and his pale face grows a sick gray.

“Yeah,” I say, putting my phone away. “That’s what I thought.”

“I don’t know what she told you, man, but she asked for it. She wanted me to fuck her. She begged me for it.”

“Man, give this guy an Oscar.” Enzo snorts. “That’s the best acting I’ve ever seen.”

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