25.
“G et moving, come on,” says Chris, before yanking me up by the arm and hauling me forward.
I grunt as pain shoots through my shoulder and the side of my neck from the impact, then tumble as I try to keep up with his strides.
The asshole enjoyed himself thoroughly while beating my face until it was raw after Fredrick commanded him to hurt me.
But you know what I find funny? The fact that none of his punches took me by surprise, nor do I mind feeling their sting on my skin right now.
And I wanna say that it’s my mom’s brutality towards me that has made me this way, but that’d be a lie.
Under the circumstances I was in at the time, I learnt to adapt, to accept, and to persevere. It’s me who did it all, not her .
The sound of crickets, along with the occasional hissing of cockroaches meets my ears, startling a few goosebumps out of me.
I breathe through my nose as I work on calming myself, but when Chris all but shoves me forward while still maintaining his hold on my arm, I gasp as I try not to trip over my feet.
I still can’t see straight because of the injury on my head.
My vision blurs every few minutes, and I keep falling in and out of a choppy slumber.
Every inch of my body hurts, especially my wrists, which are still tied painfully behind my back.
There’s this faint yet constant ringing in my ears that makes it hard for me to focus on the sounds around me for long periods of time, and I absolutely hate being in a position like this because weakness ignites the subdued fear in my gut, and people like Fredrick – they excel on the taste of it.
I briefly glance at the guards behind me, and when one of them narrows his eyes at me, I snort and look forward, letting Chris drag me through the long, empty space behind the tall hedges.
Just before we reach the clearing, though, Fredrick stops and says something to one of his guards, who nods and hands him a bottle of water.
He turns and walks over to me – his cane pressing heavily against the grass – then stops right in front of me before forcefully untying the napkin from the back of my head.
I inhale a deep gulp of air through my mouth once the rough fabric has been moved away from it, then bend over as a violent cough rips out of me. The corners of my mouth are sore, so much so that I can’t part my lips wide enough without stretching the skin there and causing it to burn in pain.
Fredrick clicks his tongue as he steps away from me, and as I’m about to rise again, I see a blue water bottle cap falling to the ground.
He bunches my hair in a fist and yanks at it, making me look at him.
We’re almost the same height, so when he exhales, I can feel his hot, cigarette-laced breath on my cheek.
“Drink,” he says, placing the bottle’s opening over my lips.
My throat is drier than it was before, so I lean in and eagerly down a greedy sip of water.
I’m about to drink more of it, but the bottle is pulled back, and before I can think of what’s happening, I feel a cold splash of water on my face.
I yelp as it ignites fire against my tender wounds, pricks my eyes, and even enters my nostrils.
I cough as I try to blink my eyes open, and because this was an abrupt attack, my head starts pulsing in agony against its impact.
Crude laughter fills the air, and I grit my teeth as I manage to clear my vision enough to glance at the assholes surrounding me.
Cruelty is instilled into the veins of people like Fredrick and his men.
Their behavior is not as a result of their gender, or because they think of me as a helpless woman currently drawing breath on their goodwill.
It’s simply because they lack empathy; they are devoid of basic human understanding.
And I get that Fredrick is upset with me for having murdered his son, but wasn’t he absolutely torturous to Timothy when he was alive?
He was killing him slowly, one day at a time.
At least I was merciful enough to give him a permanent end, bloody and messy as it may have been.
Fredrick gives me a scornful look as his laughter dies down. “You really tho–”
I don’t let him finish; I move forward and spit on him, then stand back with a smirk as I watch my saliva dribbling down his Balbo beard.
The guards shift uncomfortably on their feet as silence fills the air.
Utterly enraged, Fredrick pulls out a fresh napkin from his pant pocket before hastily wiping his face with it, then throws it on the ground before sneering at me.
Moving towards me, he digs his fingers into my skin as he grips my jaw and pulls me to him.
“Listen here, you cunt,” he hisses, shaking my face once.
“Were you expecting me to give you the VIP treatment after what you did to my son?” A spark of hatred lights his eyes.
“Did you offer Timothy water before putting a goddamn bullet in his throat?”
I scoff. “Your son spent his last night riding pretty-lookin’ upper classes and snorting cocaine up his ass like it was his only source of sustenance, so I’d say, Fredrick , that he had a pretty good last run for someone who was a worthless little stain on your family’s name.”
“You…” He grinds his teeth as he lets go of my jaw, then rears the same hand back and slaps me across the face – hard.
I fall back against Chris as the force of it makes me lose my balance, then slowly find my footing before laughing at Fred.
He’s absolutely livid now, which serves my craving of wanting to see him break, when he’s the one trying to do the same to me.
“What, you can’t handle a little truth?” I muse. Tasting metal on my tongue, I move my head sideways and spit blood on the ground. “It’s true, though; your son told me everything you’ve done to hi–”
He slaps me again, to which I only laugh harder.
“Man, you’re such a pussy, Fred,” I say, then lick the blood off my bottom lip before grinning at him. “I guess I should have let Timothy live, huh? Because he seemed like twice the man you’ll ever be.” I click my tongue. “Shame I can’t turn back time.”
He’s outright shaking with how angry he is. It’s so satisfying to watch.
He goes to hit me again, but stops when he hears his name being called.
“Fred.”
He turns and moves away from me, and I see Heyman glancing between us, his face showing no emotions whatsoever. Out of all the assholes around me, he definitely is the most cold.
“They’re here,” he announces, and my very first thought is: they’re selling me off to the Rajvanshs to be turned into food on a silver platter, and my heart starts beating so fast that I’m afraid I’ll pass out.
There’s no doubt that I’m a killer, but I sure as fuck don’t deserve the kind of death these bastards have planned for me.
“Let me go!” I scream as I try pulling myself out of Chris’s grip. “ Fuck , let me go!”
“Shut the hell up,” Chris scolds, then looks ahead before nodding at someone.
I turn, and watch as Heyman starts walking towards the clearing, with Fredrick and his guards close behind.
Chris drags me forward again, and when I don’t move, he grunts and glances at the guards on our backs, then leans in and whispers, “Keep quiet, and you just might live to see tomorrow.”
I’m so taken aback by his words, and by the kindness I see on his face that I can’t help but study him. His eyes are creased around the corners; his frown seems genuine. It’s clear he feels guilty, because he can’t hold my gaze for more than a second.
“I…” I swallow, then shake my head a little. “But you beat me to shit .”
He once again glances behind us, then pulls me away from the guards. “What else would you have had me do?” he asks. “If I didn’t do as I was told, we’d both be dead right now.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want out,” he says. “I can’t work for him anymore; I need out .”
I blink at him. “And how exactly do you plan on getting out?”
“I’ll nudge your arm now, so act like you’re being pushed,” he mutters, then once again tugs at my arm.
I curve my back and loosen my body, pretending to trip, then straighten quickly before looking at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
He sighs, keeping his eyes on Fredrick. “When you leave, take me with you,” he says in a rush. “I’ve been killing for that man for years. For once I’d like to end a life that didn’t belong to an innocent but a deserving one.”
I’m confused, so I yet again shake my head at him. “I don’t understand what you’r–”
Chris stops when we finally reach the clearing, just as Fredrick and Heyman do the same. As the guards form a barricade around both of them, leaving the center open, I look ahead, and a sob hitches out of me as soon as I see him.
“Dorran…” his name slips past my bruised lips, and tears start falling down my cheeks when his familiar, expressive blue eyes meet mine.