“You’re nothing but a disgrace to our country. To your children’s children. I highly doubt your kids could even look upon their old man with pride in their eyes, knowing he’s a fucking failure. Rotting behind bars. Your parents are probably rolling over in their graves in shame.”
His fists clenched, his nostrils flared, and his face paled. My words clearly affecting him, far worse than any physical torture I could ever inflict. My job was to demoralize Vicente, a task I executed with joy. Breaking a man lifted me in ways I never thought possible. It empowered my rage, making me feel like fucking God. Superior to him and all the others who attempted attacks against our country.
“I did… I’m… that’s not…” he stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. His ego eating him alive.
“You’ve done your country wrong, Vicente. It’s a good thing there’s no mirrors in this hell hole. I’d hate to be you and have to look at myself every fucking day, knowing I’m nothing but a piece of shit. The bottom of the barrel. Fuck, it all makes sense now, no wonder why your wife didn’t put up too much of a fight. She’d been waiting for a real man to come along all her life.”
He jerked back, breathing out, “My wife?” His manic thoughts taking over.
I slid the box across the table, hitting his arm that was resting on the surface; it stopped a few inches away from his face. His head flew back startled, locking eyes with me. I could see his anxiety radiating off him, fueling the fiend inside of me.
He swallowed hard, holding his chin up higher. Acting unfazed.
Provoking me.
“I bring you a gift, and I have yet to hear you thank me,” I mocked in a condescending tone, breaking the sudden silence.
“A gift?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Confused and overwhelmed all at once.
“Did I stutter? Go ahead, open it.”
He hesitated for a moment before reaching out his trembling hands to grab the box. The panic dwelling inside of him with each passing second. No longer the tough son-of-a-bitch he once portrayed.
As he started to lift the lid, I added, “Someone once told me the only way to make a man pay for his sins was through the ones he loved the most.”
“What the fuck?” he murmured in shock, grabbing the severed female finger from the box. Immediately recognizing the wedding band prominently on display.
His mouth quivered, and his body shook. I saw him swallowing down the bile rising in his throat. I imagined the memories of his wedding day were too much for him to bear. The emotions from seeing his beautiful bride walking down the aisle were flooding back. I could see it in his eyes, it was one memory right after the other. It was crazy how much significance one small finger could have. He was visibly shutting down.
It was time to break him entirely.
“I know how much you miss her. Aren’t you going to thank me now?”
His chest heaved with anger as he threw the finger back into the box and shoved it away. Quickly making the sign of the cross with his shackled wrists.
I stood, placing my hands in my pockets. Casually making my way over to him. “The only god in this room, is me. Now confess the names I want, or I’ll be paying your wife another visit. Only next time, it will be her fucking head in that box.”
“Maria… no… please, God, no…” He bowed his head with the shame and regret I wanted him to feel.
“Don't worry, she didn't scream too much,” I sympathized, leaning forward close to his ear. “Not with my cock in her mouth.”
“You motherfuc—”
I crudely gripped onto his throat, jerking him backward in his chair. Slamming his body onto the ground near my boots. I held him down. “That’s the thanks I get for bringing you a piece of your wife?”
He instantly grasped onto my hand, kicking his legs out from under him. I choked him harder, placing my knee on his sternum, squeezing the air right out of him. His face turned red and his eyes began to water as his life was being drained out of him.
By me.
“Someone needs to learn some goddamn manners, and lucky for you…” I hovered close to his face. “I’m just the man to teach you.” And with that I cold-cocked him, knocking him the fuck out.
He came to when I was dragging his soaking wet body, by his collar, out of the lake behind the prison. Convulsing, sucking in the air I was ruthlessly denying him. Choking on the water that took up occupancy in his throat and lungs. Spitting up god knows what. He staggered to find his balance, falling to his knees on the murky shore. His hands being cuffed behind his back, along with his ankles, didn’t help his current predicament.
I ignored him as he visibly struggled, trying to get loose. Confused by the turn in events. Still not realizing he wasn’t going anywhere unless I wanted him to. There was nowhere else I’d rather have him than at my mercy. I waited until he tired himself out. Until there was no fight left in him, and all he could do was roll over and play fucking dead. I was used to the hysteria that came along with my violent acts. It was all part of the job.
I leaned forward, close to his ear again. Cocking my head to the side, I rasped, “Give me the names.”
He heaved, his chest rising and falling with each second that passed. Desperately trying to regain his breathing and stay conscious.
“I didn’t hear you,” I taunted. This time grabbing ahold of his neck, shoving just his face back into the water. Holding him under as his body fought to get free.
As I hauled him back up, he choked out, “My Lord and Savior!”
I viciously smiled, bringing his face right in front of mine to glare into his eyes. “How’s that working out for you? Where the fuck is he now?”
His dark pools met mine, spewing, “You’re going to rot in Hell for this.”
“I’m already there, motherfucker.”
“I did what I had to do! I killed those soldiers for the good of our people! Anyone who stands by Emilio Salazar deserves to die!”
“Is that right?” I chuckled, dragging him back under the water. Holding him down longer that time. Watching his air bubbles come few and far between. I waited, not allowing the traitor to die. Drowning him over and over again to the brink of death, till his body pleaded with me to end it all.
“Please…” he whispered, trying to catch his breath.
“Please, what?”
“Please… have compassion…”
“Compassion for a man who murdered five of my men? Eye for an eye, motherfucker. You reap what you sow. You have one last chance to confess names, or my next stop will be your house. I’ll just wait till your daughters are home this time. I always wanted to fuck sisters,” I deviously chuckled, feeling his heart pounding against my grip on his neck. His nostrils flared while his mind reeled with uncertainty. “Count with me, one… two… times up!”
“Maur… his name is… Maur… Mauricio! His name is Mauricio Gonzalez!” he screamed out then spit in my face.
I abruptly let him go, causing him to sink further into the water. He froze, waiting for my next move. I looked him in the eyes and nodded toward the guard, silently ordering him to get out of my face.
“Are you—”