He stirred, moaning as his eyes opened half-mast. He was facing me but he didn’t look at me, he just stared at nothing.
Jimmy roughly grabbed his arm, inspecting the needle marks on it, grinning like a fucking banshee. I wanted to kick him in his gold teeth.
“Should we give him another hit?” One of the men asked Jimmy.
“Not yet,” he murmured, cupping Blackie’s face in his hands. “Time to give your president a message,” he said, slapping Blackie’s cheeks. “Take the cuffs off him,” he ordered to the man standing behind him.
Jimmy rose to his feet, spinning on his heel, and pointed a finger at the other man. “Get the phone ready; make sure the lighting is clear so when we shoot the video there is no mistaking what Jack Parrish will be seeing.”
The first douche bag un-cuffed Blackie and pulled him to his feet, he stumbled, barely able to hold his head let alone the rest of his body.
“What are you doing?” Blackie questioned groggily, as he was dragged across the room to the slop sink. I watched in horror as he struggled to fight. In his condition he was no match for the man in control. The goon turned the faucet on, grabbed Blackie by the back of his head and shoved his face into the basin of the sink.
“Fuck,” Blackie hollered, as the ice cold water poured over his head. He fought to lift his head, but the man slapped his head forcefully under the running water again. I was jarred from my trance when I felt Jimmy’s finger slide down my neck. I was no longer shivering. Instead, I was drenched in my own sweat. How fitting, right? Hell is supposed to be sweltering.
I flinched, closing my eyes and willing myself into another dimension as Jimmy’s finger slipped along my sweaty skin and between my breasts. I didn’t open my eyes until his finger left me and I watched in horror as he lifted it to his mouth and sucked the sweat glistening on his finger.
“You’re a pig,” I seethed.
“Funny, but you’re the one who will squeal like one in a few minutes,” he glanced over his shoulder. “Bring him over here.”
I diverted my eyes back to the sink and watched as Blackie lifted his head, slicking his hair away from his face and staring back at me. The man shoved him and he slowly shuffled his feet across the concrete until he stood in front of me.
I peeled my eyes from Blackie when I felt my hands become free and watched on as Jimmy kneeled before me and cut the ties around my ankles. A hand closed around my hair and yanked me to my feet. My legs gave out, from their lack of use, but the man tugged harder on my hair and I shrieked in pain as he forced me to stand on my wobbly legs.
“What the fuck man? C’mon leave her alone,” Blackie muttered. “You’re only making shit worse for yourself by fucking with her,” he slurred.
“Shut up,” Jimmy ordered, reaching down to his calf as he lifted his pants slightly and pulled a gun from the holster attached to it. He then raised it and pointed the barrel to the back of Blackie’s head.
“You don’t speak unless I tell you to,” he declared, glancing behind me at the man pulling my hair. “Give me the phone,” he demanded, reaching over Blackie’s shoulder to grab the iPhone. “Is it ready?”
“Yes,” the lackey replied.
My eyes were full of unshed tears, tears I chalked up to being born from pain and not fear because fear meant surrendering.
“Stay with me,” he mouthed, as Jimmy dropped his gun to play with his phone. Blackie turned his head and saw the other goon had his gun trained on him. I felt the man release his hold on my hair and I braced myself as I stood on my own two feet.
I felt my anxiety build as I wondered why they untied us and now left us to stand in front of one another. Sure, both of us were weak in the legs, Blackie worse off than me, but still it didn’t seem right. We couldn’t fight them, they knew that, and they gradually backed away from us, keeping their guns aimed at our heads.
“There is this old saying, maybe you’ve heard it,” Jimmy began, as he circled us with his arm outstretched recording himself as he did. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” he arched his eyebrows and smiled at the camera. “I’m no one’s fool,” he declared, looking away from the camera and glared at Blackie. “You told me she was a whore. You said you take a chance a piece on her sweet cunt, right?” He questioned. “Answer the question! Look into the camera when you do.”
“Yes,” Blackie ground out.
“But you haven’t sampled her have you?” His eyes diverted back to me and he reached out and trailed his fingertip over my collarbone. “But you’re going to now and do you know why, pretty girl? Do you know why he will rape you?”
“Because you’re not a fool,” I hissed, my voice sounding just as defeated as the rest of me.
Rape.
“I’m not touching her you sick fuck,” Blackie said, through clenched teeth. “Shoot me up, do what you got to do but I won’t fucking touch her.”