“It’ll go fast if he talks. If he doesn’t talk, we’ve got nothing.”
The man smiled at that. I took the energy I wanted to pummel into his face and put it toward wrapping the belt around one arm and looping it around one of the bedposts. Gus took care of the rest. Because the guy was quite short, we had to improvise around his legs with the addition of Javier’s silk ties. It felt somewhat poetic.
It didn’t take long before the man was tied spread eagle on the bloody bedspread. He still didn’t look scared, didn’t look like he was in any pain, didn’t look like he was worried.
“Now, talk,” I told him.
“You both are so dead,” he said, slurring his words around his fat lip. “What are you going to do, shoot me in the leg? You’ll only attract more attention to yourself. Besides, I’ve had worse.”
“Oh good,” I said, coming closer. “It’ll be a nice experiment then, to see if I come close.” I wasn’t really sure who was talking, the words that were coming out of my mouth, the strange sense of calm, almost a high, that was replacing the rage. It scared me more than the anger had, than the blackness. This was something else. Sinister.
“Camden, maybe you should let me handle this,” Gus said taking a step closer.
I waved him off. “You can have the next go. I think he’ll tell us where she went.”
I shrugged off the backpack and pulled out my secret weapon, my tattoo machine. It had ink in it too still, bright blue.
“What the hell is that?” Gus asked, even though we all knew what it was.
“Tattoo gun,” I explained. “Well, we call it a machine. In this case, gun seems more fitting. Doesn’t fire bullets but it can fire a lot of pain if you apply it in the right place and press down hard enough.” I took the needle and pressed it against the man’s stomach just below his chest, feeling his pulse underneath his skin. “I’ve always wondered if I could tattoo’s someone’s organs. You know someone is going to ask for that someday.”
Finally I saw the man’s eyes widen ever so slightly. I smiled back. “Really,” I went on. “I’m curious. Care to be my experiment … what did you say your name was?”
The man’s jaw wiggled back and forth. Debating.
“That’s your first question. What’s your name?”
“Camden, we don’t have time for this.”
I ignored Gus. “This is a liner needle, thick enough. Similar to what did the tattoos around your arms. Except that yours was done properly and I’ve made some adjustments with the length of the needle. I bet I could at least puncture your stomach if I pressed hard enough. Maybe fill it with ink? Wouldn’t that be something? I’d tattoo you from the inside out.”
“Jesus,” Gus muttered under his breath.
I plugged in the machine and stepped on the foot petal. “Your name,” I repeated.
The man hesitated. I didn’t. I plunged the tattoo needle into the middle of his abdomen, just below his rib cage, pressing it as far as it would go. It felt so incredibly wrong to do this, going against everything I’d ever been taught. It went beyond art now. It took me to another level. A bad place.
The man cried out from the pain and I kept the needle there as deep as it would go. An inch of a vibrating tattoo needle was a pain that no one should ever feel.
I almost felt sorry for him. Then I remembered who was on the line.
“F-Felipe,” he stuttered, “Felipe Alvaraz.”
“Good, good,” I said, taking the needle out of his chest. A swirl of red blood and bright blue ink came together to form an overflowing pool of purple. “Next question. Is Ellie okay? Is she hurt?”
He shook his head. “She’s not hurt. She’s f-fine. She’s the one who did this to my head.”
I smiled to myself. Good girl.
“And where is Javier taking her? What does he want with her?”
The man’s lips formed a thin line. I raised the machine, reminding him.
“Tell me and I won’t do anymore. Where are they going and why?”
“Fuck you.”
“Wrong answer. Gus, hold the back his head please.”
Gus didn’t move. I shot him a steely glance. He was frowning at me, the most concerned I’d ever seen him. “Gus, do it now. We don’t have time.”
He nodded ever so slowly and then leaned across the bed, pressing his big hands down on the man’s forehead. He shook his head back and forth, trying to escape but Gus put his other hand on his chin, pinning him in place.
“What are you doing, Camden?” he asked.
“Women are going crazy for permanent eyeliner tattoos these days. Thought I’d jump in on a trend. Get some practice on what not to do.”
The man’s eyes flew to me in horror. I felt nothing. I didn’t have any nerves left and my hand was as steady as a rock. If this was what it felt like to be Javier, putting that bullet in Uncle Jim’s head, well in some sick fucking way I could understand the pull.