Page 85 of Hidden Desires
“You watch him. Your friend is going to come with me outside to get things ready.”
“Aren’t you afraid that your goons will tell your boss that you disobeyed his orders and you killed me instead?” Blade asked, taking every opportunity he could to stick it to his father.
His father turned and locked eyes with him. “Oh, these men don’t work for the Cyanyd Kings. These are just junkies I’ve paid to help kidnap your ass. It’s amazing what addicts will do if you promise them a fix.”
With that chilling revelation, his father turned and left the cabin with one of his minions in tow.
27
BLADE
His father was ever the showman. It appeared that even after all these years, the man never lost his flair for the dramatic.
Outside, his father had set up a large spinning wheel to which he tied Blade by his arms and legs. Attached to the wheel, Blade had been stripped of his shirt and pants with a giant red bullseye painted on his chest.
Lighting up the whole fiasco were four large fire-burning oil drums, with several tiki torches set up to provide additional light.
By now, it was around two a.m., and the moon stood high in the night sky.
“I see you’re having some issues letting go of the past. Dried-up has-been like you just can’t admit that he’s no longer a performer. If memory serves me right, you weren’t a very good one when you were younger either. I can understand why your boss wants to replace you with a younger, better-looking model,” Blade taunted. He loved watching his father’s shoulders tense up as he listened to his son spew the truth.
“Still a mouthy little shit, I see.”
“Yeah, well, I hate uncomfortable silences, plus it’s not every day that you get to watch a sad old man trying to relive his glory days. Oh, by chance, do you do children’s parties?”
Letting out a huff, his father walked over to the wheel Blade was tied to and gave the sucker a spin.
Around him, the world flipped upside down; up became down, and light became dark. Fire became a swirling comet.
Eventually, the wheel came to a stop with Blade stuck upside down, staring at his father, who was picking up one of his signature three-inch blades.
“I can’t believe you still have these,” his father said, picking up one of Blade’s own blades and holding it up to the light. “Still sharp, I see.”
“Well, what can I say, they kind of grew on me.”
The blade had been a birthday gift from his father when he was twelve. His father had promised to teach him how to throw the blades once he was old enough.
Blade had begged and begged until finally his father began teaching him how to throw once he turned thirteen.
That had been the happiest day of his life.
“I bet they did,” his father added, whipping the blade at his son without warning.
The steel cut through Blade’s leg like it was warm butter.
Blade had never felt so much pain.
He cried out, cursing and swearing, and counting all the ways in which he was going to murder his father.
He was up to thirteen by the time his old man walked up to the wheel and gave it another spin.
Round and round the world flipped as Blade tried to focus on the figure standing in front of him.
Finally, theWheel of Deathcame to a standstill, leaving him dangling on an upside-down forty-five-degree angle.
Blood began to rush to his head as a trickle from the wound in his thigh ran upward.
“Isn’t this nice. A little father-son bonding time,” his father bragged.
