There was a man who needed me to sing him a lullaby when the cruelty of his mind terrorized him. And I chose him, I chose Jack and I was going to survive this because he needed me and because I wanted to be there for him. I really wanted to live. I wanted to be the one in control of my destiny. Take that, God, let it fester, and then tell me I only have one life and I need to make the best of it. Let me show you what I’m made of. I will fight tooth and nail, give it my all, because I already have enough scars and don’t need anymore.
The door opened and my will trickled out of the room as two men entered, dragging a body between them. They held him up, one of his arms on each of their shoulders, his feet dragging across the cement and his head hung low, shielding his face from my view. But he was in the same clothes as he was when he dropped me off at the church. I felt the bile rise in my throat as they dropped Blackie on the ground like a sack of potatoes. They pulled him by his boots across the concrete toward the hot water heater off to my right.
He groaned as they roughly pulled Blackie’s arms behind him and handcuffed him to a pipe that fed water into the heater.
“No, no, no, you imbeciles!”
I looked to the door as Mr. Chinchilla strolled in shaking his head in distaste. He was still wearing his coat, collar popped, and about a dozen or so gold chains dangled from his neck. He pulled the cigar from his lips and hissed.
“Why would you tie his arms behind him? Bring him over here,” he ordered, as he walked toward me. “Oh look who joined the party,” he grinned, flashing me his gold teeth.
“What did you do to him?” I asked glaring at him, as the goons cut him loose from the pipe and dragged a moaning Blackie across the floor to my side
“Now don’t look at me like that,” he said, wagging his finger at me like I was a naughty girl. “I’m merely helping him attain a goal.”
“He’s barely conscience,” I hissed, diverting my eyes back to Blackie and watched as they dumped him into a chair beside me. They took one of his arms and tied it at the back of the chair. The other arm they stretched out horizontally and handcuffed to a pipe on the wall, so one arm remained at his side and the other behind him.
“He’s been missing his wife for quite some time, I’m just aiding him in the reunion he’s longed for,” he frowned, almost looking like he gave a fuck. He was very animated and very fucking crazy. He stepped in front of Blackie, slapping his face lightly. “Isn’t that right? Tell her how you’re a pussy who can’t bring himself to take his own life,” he sneered, leaning close to Blackie. “Tell her,” he shouted.
Blackie’s eyes fluttered open, his head moving from side to side like he was trying to balance it on his shoulders.
“I’ll tell you whose life I’m going to take,” he slurred, closing his eyes before opening them again. His lips moved attempting to smile but instead only one side curled. “Yours,” he whispered.
“Feeling bold are you? Maybe we should fix that,” the maniac said cheerfully, lifting his eyes and signaling to one of the goons behind us to fetch him something. He smiled creepily and looked back and forth between me and Blackie. “Let’s get to know one another? How’s that sound?”
I kept my mouth shut because I did want to know him. I wanted to know who the fuck he was and why he kidnapped me and Blackie. I wanted a name to the creepy face I’d always remember.
“You,” he said, pointing a finger toward me as he pulled over a chair. He slowly removed his fur coat, draping it over the back of the chair neatly. He wore a wife beater tank top tucked into perfectly tailored pants and topped the ensemble with suspenders. His arms were covered in tattoos, not an inch of skin unmarked. He sat down, crossing one leg over his lap as he made himself comfortable and stared at me. “I never forget a face, especially one as pretty as yours,” he winked, and I wanted to vomit.
“Although I’m not really a fan of the scowl you’re giving me right now,” he continued. “I thought bringing one of your men here would make you happy. Or is his not the dick that gets you wet, sweetheart? Do you prefer Jacks?” His eyes widened and his grin spread as a light bulb went off inside of his jaded head. “I’ve got it. It’s neither of them, is it?” He leaned forward, reaching behind him and producing the shiny blade of a knife. “It’s the dead guy isn’t it? The Fed, Danny, that your pussy got excited for, right? Tell me I’m right.”
“How do you know about Danny?” I asked, swallowing hard as he brought the knife to the side of my face.