Page 74 of Seven+Four

I finally reach room seven, and keeping my foot flat, I give a hard kick just above the wooden door knob. As the door bangs open, I storm inside, and what I find turns my blood cold.

Sari is on his knees and elbows on a bed, body trembling, wrists tied up, wearing only a lace bra and matching thong. His left ass cheek is red, and his lower lip is split, a bruise forming on his chin. His braid is half loose, and the mix of pleasure, fear, and sorrow in his teary eyes is instantly replaced with shock as soon as his gaze focuses on me. It guts me.

“What the fuck?” I hear an annoyed voice.

My gaze fixes on the dead man holding a wooden paddle, his arm outstretched over his head, ready to strike again what’s mine. Ican clearly see the hard bulge tenting his silk underwear as he glares at me. It thwarts the chill inside, making my insides boil with rage and very malicious needs.

“Get the fuck out! We are getting to the good part here.”

The edges of my vision turn red. Blood red. Sanguine. He signed his death certificate the moment he touched my Baby Blue.

First, I sock him in the left cheek, dislocating his jaw, and employ an elbow block as he attempts to hit me with the wooden paddle. I yank it out of his hand and shoot it straight at his throat, bruising his vocal cords and stopping the screaming. I crack three of his ribs with a knee hit and block his pathetic left hook by grabbing his swinging wrist. Then I place his left hand flat on the table and swing the paddle down on it over and over, relishing the sharp sounds of bones breaking.

I raise my elbow and get him right in the nose, fracturing it. The blood that starts dripping down his chin doesn’t stop me. I drop the paddle and use my fist to beat his face. I no longer see the cockroach in front of me, only my vengeance. Thinking of him making Sari cry, giving him pain, giving him pleasure, stealing moments from me, more first times that should have been mine. All mine.

My homicidal behavior is fucking justified. My bloody knuckles wrap around the cockroach’s neck, and I slide him up the wall.

“Let him go.” I grit my teeth at the familiar, trembling voice.

“Uri, put him down before you kill him.” Sari tries again, his words less shaky.

I tighten my fingers around the cockroach’s throat instead, enjoying every single gasp and wheeze as his face starts turning red.

I shift my eyes toward Sari. They fall on his busted lip. “No one makes you bleed but me. Only. Me,” I growl menacingly.

His little Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Uri, there’re eyes on us. Please, let go.”

In my peripheral vision, I see the manager with one of the guards stopping on the room’s threshold, shock and horror painted on his face at the sight of the bloody mess I turned the cockroach into.

Fucking fuck! I hate to be interrupted when I’m about to off someone. It deeply vexes me, like ants crawling under my skin. But I can’t get caught killing; I already lived in a cell and don’t want to experience that ever again. Nor do I want to leave Sari unprotected.

So I lean down to the cockroach’s ear and whisper, “This is not a goodbye, but a see you later.” I reluctantly pull my right arm back and release him from my grip. I don’t watch his body drop to the floor, but I turn toward Sari, and after pulling half of the sheet off the bed, I shield his body from the other men’s eyes.

“Throw this fucking piece of shit out!” I tell the guard. He looks at the manager, who sends a look Sari’s way, noticing the bruise and blood on his mouth.

“Do what he says,” the manager orders, giving me a nod as the burly guard lifts the unconscious man over his shoulder and leaves. “What do you want me to do with him?” he asks me. Does he finally understand his place?

“Throw him on the street.” I’ll deal with him later. I’m sure Rami will find other people he hurt in his past. Not that it matters. I’ve already got the green light to get rid of him.

“I’m immensely sorry about what happened.” The manager is addressing Sari, looking all obsequious and apologetic. “Whatever you need, please?—”

I cut him off. “I’ll take care of him. OUT!” I snap.

He jumps back; wide-eyed and looking like a bobblehead doll, he nods as he hurriedly exits the room. It takes him three tries to close the door—since I broke the lock when I busted it open— but somehow, he manages in the end.

I take a step closer to the bed. Sari scrambles back, away from me; the rope still restraining him pulls at his wrists, halting his movements and stealing a hiss out of his lips.

He always looked at me with warmth in his aquamarine gaze. There’s no trace of it now, only sorrow and anger—so much anger. Still, his doesn’t match the depth of my fury. There’s a clear message in those pools that says,don’t come near me.

“The fuck I won’t,” I mutter, taking hold of his arms to quickly untie him. He turns stiff but lets me do it without a word. The instinct to protect him overpowers any other desire. The sight of the chaffed skin around his wrists makes me want to find that fucking shithead and twist his neck until his head is detached from the rest of his body. The stark red lines of the number four brand—the one the scientists burned on his inner wrist—is in the exact same place as mine. Our subject numbers. Seven and Four.

I move to the sink to dampen a towel, then I look for the ointment provided in every room and find it in the bowl on the table. I sit on the bed and start delicately rubbing hisflesh with the towel, moving aside the black bracelet from his wrist. I’ll keep my phone close at all times from now on, Sari’s racing heartbeat would have triggered the app on my cell and I would’ve stopped that fucker earlier.

He gasps and instantly pulls his hand away, but my hold is strong and I don’t let go as I keep cleaning the wounds. There’s blood on his delicate skin, like Sari fought against the rope to get free.

“I’m an idiot,” he whispers brokenly after a while.

“Compared to you, most of the world is stupid. You need to be more specific, Baby Blue,“ I say between my gritted teeth as I finish applying the ointment.

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