Page 4 of Born into Madness
“You look like a dumbass, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you know who owns the club you were caught in.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. I can see the fear in his eyes. Everyone knows the Melnikov Bratva owns The Red Room. The question is, why didn’t that frighten him off?
“You don’t strike me as a particularly brave guy, Drew. What made you choose our club?”
He clamps his mouth shut, and my heart gives a little jump. Someone wants to play the tough guy, which means I’m going to get to play too.
I grin behind the mask and step closer. I’m half a foot taller than he is, so I get to look down when I say, “You have no idea how happy you just made me.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
His quivery voice seems to echo around the warehouse, and I know from experience that he’ll be hoarse by the time I’m done with him. I tighten my grip on my knife and sink it into his side, watching as Drew’s eyes widen in shock and then pain as he screams and flails so hard I wonder if he’ll manage to dislocate his shoulder.
The knife slides out easily as a cascade of bright red blood flows from the wound I’ve just given him—the first of many.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “I’m really good with anatomy. I didn’t hit any major organs, just muscle and fat.”
Drew sputters and gasps and lets out an unmanly sob while I step back and admire the way the blood has now coated his entire leg. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t get sex. I don’t understand attraction like that, have never felt the need to be with someone, never felt the pull to bury myself inside another, but blood?
Well, that’s altogether different. Blood excites me, causes my body to respond in ways that it never does for anything else, and when I see it seeping from Drew’s body, I can’t control my body’s reaction to it.
“Jesus fuck,” Drew whimpers, letting me know he’s spotted what’s straining against my jeans.
“Relax,” I tell him. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Then why are you…” He lets the words trail off, growing paler by the second, but I know he’s in no danger of bleeding out, not yet anyway.
I tilt my head and continue watching the blood drip down his leg. “Why am I hard?” I ask, finishing his unspoken question. “Because I’m thinking about killing you.”
“Oh my god,” he whines.
I bring my eyes to his. “I’m afraid he’ll be of no help to you. Trust me,” I say, giving a harsh laugh. “Many people have tried and failed.” I spread my arms and use the knife to motion around us. “Maybe it’s because the place is soundproofed.” Pointing the blade back at him, I add, “Or maybe it’s because you’re a raping jackass who doesn’t deserve to be saved.” Shrugging, I say, “I guess we’ll never know. On the plus side, if there is a hell, you’re about to get a lesson on how to endure it.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Tell me where you got the pills from.” When he hesitates, I step closer and press the tip of the blade gently but firmly against the exact spot I just stabbed him. Drew starts to hyperventilate, so I pause to give him a second.
After I’ve waited several minutes, I say, “The pills, Drew. Where did you get them?”
“I can’t,” he starts to say, but before he can give me some bullshit excuse, I stab him in the exact same spot, making sure to keep it shallow. This is about prolonging the pain, not giving him a quick death.
Drew lets out a garbled sound, the pain so intense that it forces the scream to get caught in his lungs. Every part of his world just became reduced to this one moment, to this one feeling. I’m guessing he’s never felt more alive while also simultaneously wishing for death. His eyes roll back in his head when I slide the blade out for the second time. Unable to handle it, his head slumps forward as he loses consciousness and buys himself a few moments of peace. He won’t stay passed out for long, though.
While he takes a rest, I mentally map out the next hour. I doubt he’ll last another sixty minutes, but a guy can dream.
When Drew starts blinking his eyes open, I stab him in the bicep, bringing him back to the present with a brutal reminder that he’s still at my mercy.
“Wakey, wakey,” I tell him, grinning when reality hits him. I see the hope drain from his face just as quickly as the blood leaves his body. “We’re not finished yet.”
I wait for him to get some semblance of control over himself. While the seconds tick by, I trail the tip of my knife along his arm and shoulder before brushing it along his chest.
“Who gave you the pills?” I ask again, and when he doesn’t immediately give me a name, I flick my wrist and cut off his other nipple. While he wails, I say, “You looked stupid with only one nip, Drew. I did you a favor. Now, who the fuck sold you the pills?”
“He’ll kill me,” he cries, and I start to lose my patience.
“Look at me.” I wait until he lifts his eyes to mine. Showing him the bloody blade, I say, “I’m the one who’s going to kill you. Do you want it fast or slow?”
“I don’t want to die,” he cries.
