13. Roman
ROMAN
‘Ain’t no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye’ repeats for what feels like the thousandth time as I take a seat on one of the metal folding chairs we brought down here.
I cross my legs, resting my foot on my knee as I inhale the rich cigar smoke.
I am not a heavy smoker, not like Atlas, but after a session it hits better than usual.
I am stressed, which is not a feeling I am used to and I hope once I deal with this my blood pressure will settle.
I am partly angry at what Fae told me, but mostly I am angry at myself.
I am still trying to figure out how something like this went on without my knowledge.
That is not entirely true though. I did know.
I just didn’t understand the significance until earlier today…
or maybe yesterday. I am not sure anymore.
Time gets lost down here.
There are no windows and the light is scarce by design.
A single bulb hums behind a wired cage, but the glow barely reaches the corners of the room.
The limestone walls are scarred from years of neglect.
The dark floor is uneven and cold enough to leech heat from the bone.
From the centre of the ceiling, thick chains hang, heavy and patient.
So many options with just one simple tool. It is fascinating, really.
It is not the room that gets to you down here, it is the air. It smells of rot, damp, and iron, but my favourite part is that it reeks of fear.
Against one wall sits a metal tray on wheels, like something from a doctor’s office.
My chosen weapons are laid out in perfect order.
The hammer is already glistening with leftover flesh, the blades catch the light as I move and the pizza cutter gleams every time I shift.
Pliers, whips, tweezers, and rope sit beside them, waiting.
A silver box is bolted into the stone nearby.
The glass vials inside are filled with different little treats that glisten like shark’s teeth.
The sink on the right-hand side is deep and industrial, new and out of place down here.
On either side of the hanging chains, two metal chairs are bolted to the floor, facing one another.
That was my idea. It’s cool, right? Imagine betraying someone I love and having to watch someone you love suffer for it, all while tied down to something you cannot move.
Ingenious, if you ask me.
Minus the chair I am sat on, a couple more are folded up in the shadows. That was ‘a must.’ I roll my eyes at that. I prefer to work alone, but I was overruled. What started as my idea turned into some weird group bonding session. At least I am the first to use it.
Felix will need ground rules. I refuse to come down here and find my pizza cutter unwashed and sitting by the sink. Augh, just thinking about it puts me back in a bad mood. At what point can you kill your future wife’s twin for being so un-house-trained? I feel like three years is enough.
Jack whimpers and my head snaps up. I haven’t heard a peep from him in a while.
Who knew such a cocky little fucker would be so weak?
My blood pressure spikes again. Just knowing he is breathing is unbearable.
My jaw clenches as I take in his battered body, gently swinging on the chains.
His hands are bound together in a single loop as the metal digs into his wrists.
He has been stretched so far that his feet are permanently pointed, always searching for something to take the pressure off his shoulders and wrists.
I take another drag of my cigar and hum along to the chorus. I need to stay in control. I need answers. There have been too many close calls where I almost lost him to my rage. I cannot make another mistake.
“Are you ready to talk yet, Jackie boy?” I taunt from my seat, watching with sick satisfaction as he pisses himself.
God, that stinks.
“Jesus,” I bark. “Don’t you know how to hydrate yourself?”
Nothing.
Hmm.
I stand slowly, cigar still in my hand as I continue to hum and walk towards him. Jack shivers as I grab his face and hold the cigar in front of his eyes.
“Would you miss your eyes or your toes more, I wonder?” I muse, watching him flinch.
“I t… t… told you,” he stutters.
“You haven’t told me shit, Jack,” I sneer, grabbing his cheeks and pressing the cherry of my cigar into the centre of his chest. The skin sizzles, turning red before burning through skin until blood and pus ooze from the wound.
Jack wails and I keep going for a couple of seconds. Frustratingly, he has no stamina for torture. Every time I get close to anything useful, he passes out. If he keeps this up, I will have to use one of the upper drugs I created. I have held off until now. I don’t have an unlimited supply.
It is still in trial you see? I was hoping I wouldn’t have to waste it on him.
“I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!” he cries. I laugh. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it.
“Try again,” I say, letting go and walking back to the tray. I pick up the pizza cutter and make sure he sees it in his good eye. He trembles. He took a beating before he even made it to the chains. I can see at least two ribs protruding and his left eye is completely swollen shut.
“Whoever sent you has their information wrong, Long…Longstaff.”
I tut, shaking my head. I take two steps and I am back in front of him, pressing the pizza cutter to his chest and slicing down.
Starting from the burn, I make sure it hurts but not too deep.
His screams cut through Marvin’s voice, the two sounds twisting together into something more potent than any drug.
“Nobody sent me, Jack,” I say, once his screams taper off into whimpers.
“W… what?” he mumbles as confusion flickers across his face.
It would be my first thought too, but then again, I am acting without The Company’s consent. I wonder why he thinks I was sent to eliminate him.
Interesting.
“I said what I said, Jack. I sent myself.”
“Wh… you need to let me go. You’ll get into trouble if this isn’t approved,” he responds, a flicker of hope shines in his good eye as he nods to himself.
Aww, he has hope. Cute.
“You see, Jack.” I turn my back on him, ignoring the gleam even if I can’t wait to crush it. I step back to the tray and run my fingers over the knives. Settling on the scalpel, I press the tip lightly to my finger, watching the bead of blood form.
“I have superior memory,” I continue, as if he asked.
I wave my hand slightly. “I know what you’re thinking.
Everyone says that they do, but Jack…” I turn and look at him.
“My memory is not simply good. It is fantastic. Every detail I have ever listened to, read, or learnt is all up here.” I tap my finger against my head as I walk towards him.
“Go on. Test me. Ask me what day of the week a random date was.”
His silence irritates me more than it should. His big mouth is the reason we are in this situation in the first place. Usually, I cannot get him to shut up. I wait a minute, then another, hoping he will break. Instead, Jack’s head drops.
“TRY ME!” I scream. His body jerks in the chains as he finally looks back at me.
“Er… erm, 27th of January 2001,” he mutters, looking at me like I’m insane. Which, honestly, I probably am. He is not the first person I have tortured who has looked at me like that.
“Easy. Wednesday. Try again.”
Jack pauses at my request, so I run the scalpel down his left arm, soft at first, almost like a lover’s caress.
I watch as fear settles into his eye, but still, he refuses to talk.
I sigh and press harder, watching as his skin begins to split.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again, so I press further.
He groans as tears fall over his bruised face.
“2nd of March 1892,” he spits, forcing me to stop.
“Also a Wednesday. You’re not challenging me here, Jack.”
“What… what is the point of this?” he mumbles.
Ah, finally. The right question.
“Well, it came to my attention, after a conversation with my wife tha—”
“You have a wife?” he asks, curiosity cutting through the pain.
I slap him instinctively. There is nothing more frustrating than being interrupted. A prisoner thinking he can do that? Unacceptable. I pull his face back into place and slap him again, harder this time. A tooth flies from his mouth as he screams.
“That is irrelevant, Jack. Stay focused,” I bark.
“S… sorry.”
“Good boy.” ‘Ain’t no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye’ starts to play again as I take a steadying breath and force myself to focus. I need answers. He is no good to me if he is dead because I cannot control my anger.
“Where was I?” I muse. “Ah yes.”
I move around him so he loses sight of me, his body flinching as he tries to pull away.
“Do you remember what you were doing on Saturday the 6th of February 2021?” I don’t wait for an answer. Instead, I slice a circle into the centre of his back and he screams at the sudden aggression. “I do. You were at my family’s estate. Does that ring any bells for you, Jackie?”
Slicing another circle, his screams tip into hysterics.
The noise drills into my head, ruining Marvin in the background.
Deciding he doesn’t need to speak for this part, I sigh and step away.
I grab a cloth and duct tape from the table, then return and shove it into his mouth, muffling the wails.
Using the scalpel, I slice off a strip and secure it in place.
Thank God. The noise dulls and I can think again.
“Where was I? Hmm?” I grip his face as snot and tears run down it. “Listen carefully, Jack. I’m not repeating this and when I’m done, you are going to tell me everything. Nod if you understand.”
He gives a weak nod. I accept it and move back behind him.
“Anyway… four years ago, you, Benjamin, Maverick and Alex came over to relax. Normal, right? Can you even count how many times you came round? Probably not… but I can.”
I carve an upside-down heart beneath the two circles already etched into his back and his body jerks.