“You monster!” I scream.
“Who are you?”
His ferocious, intimidating laugh would normally scare me. I see Manny looking at me through one eye. The other is badly bruised and swollen shut. He’s been brutalized. Blood is everywhere. How he can even be alive at this point is beyond me, but that one eye, the one that is barely open, is pleading with me to keep my mouth shut. There is no way in hell I am going to lie here and watch him be tortured. Or worse, killed. My head starts spinning, my stomach rolling from the sight in front of me.
I’m thrown back down by this animal. I kick and scream at him to let me go with all of my might, hurting myself even more as I struggle to get free.
“Come over here and help me tie her down!” He roars.
“Fuck you, you bastard!”
Somehow I’m able to get one arm free. I bring it up and claw at his face with my nails. Blood instantly pours out, dripping everywhere.
“Leave her alone, Royal. Or would you prefer me to call you Scarface.
It’s Manny, his voice small and barely recognizable.
“Fuck off, little brother.”
My eyes go wide. I stop trying to get away. All I can hear is ‘little brother.’ I look closely at the beast towering over me. The resemblance is there; that single eye is identical to Manny’s. I’m going to be sick. These two are brothers. I don’t understand.
“So, now you know who I am,” he sneers, glancing down at me.
I recognize it in his tone, too. They sound so much alike. I’m in such a daze that I don’t even see or hear the other man come around to the opposite side of the bed until I feel a prick in my arm.
“No, Royal! Fuck you! It’s me you want, not her. Fucking leave her alone, God damn you!”
“Manny.”
Is that me talking? Whatever it is they just shot me up with has my head foggy. A euphoric feeling travels through my veins. My skin is burning up, itching everywhere, but I can’t scratch it. I can’t move. At least my body doesn’t hurt anymore. Are they tying my hands down? My legs? I can still hear someone thrashing about, screaming and hollering. I don’t know how long this lasts. Maybe seconds, minutes, hours? I’m alert. At least I think I am.
“Wake up, princess.”
A series of sharp slaps is delivered to my face. I become more aware of the stinging the more I come back to consciousness.
“You had quite a little nap. Now, up you go.”
I start to gag the minute he lifts me up.
“She’s gonna lose it! Toss me that bucket,” he says.
I start to heave. Some of it lands on the floor before the bucket is shoved under my face. I throw up until there is nothing left, and then I dry heave until I feel rawness in my throat. I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand. The acidy bitterness I taste makes me want to puke again. He shoves a glass of what looks like water in my face.
“Drink.”
My throat burns. It hurts worse than anything.
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s water. Believe me, I know you want it. Your throat is so tight, you can hardly breathe. So unless you want more of what Raymond gave you, you will drink this.”
I take a small sip and he forcefully pulls it away. It does nothing to help the burning sensation in my throat.
“Better?” asks the man I know as Scarface.
No, I’m not better, but I’m not about to tell him I want more water. Fuck him.
Then it all comes back. I heard someone say ‘brother.’ I can’t remember who, but I know someone did.
“Manny is your brother?” I ask.
My throat is so dry, it hurts to even talk. His intense orbs glare into mine.
“By blood, yes.”
“I don’t understand. If he’s your brother, then why are you doing this? Why hurt him?”
He chuckles that evil laugh again, his eyes turning cold as ice.