Chapter 10 The mafia
AXEL
I entered the dimly lit room in the basement with fans blowing heat and slightly obscuring the only source of light in the room at intervals.
The guys bowed as a sign of respect as I walked from the entrance to where they had tied our guy up, arms together above his head and legs barely touching the ground. They'd prepped him well
enough with the way he was panting and the way blood was gushing out from cuts all over his body.
Good! Just like the way I like it.
I stopped in front of him.
"Hello there, Mr. Sinclair," I greeted with my most polite voice, and his eyes, with a very ghastly cut on one of them fluttered open, "fancy seeing you here."
"You bastard," he gritted out, blood, saliva, mucus, and all.
"No no no," my lips stretched into a teasing smile, "I don't think we've gotten to that part where you get to call me a bastard."
I started circling him slowly as if I was checking out a piece of meat on the slabber with my index finger slowly drumming on my lower lip.
"And talking about that, I wouldn't want us to waste time, just tell me what I need to hear, and let's get this over and done with."
"Read my lips, Bastard, I'm not going to tell you anything."
I stopped in front of him, my smile morphing into something dark, something sinister.
"Yes, you will, Mr. Sinclair, you'll tell me what I need to hear. You know why? Because you've been with me in this room countless times, you've seen the kind of torture the people that have been in
this position," I gestured to his tied up position, "you've seen the type of torture they've gone through and how they eventually caved in the end, just tell me what I need to hear right now and I'm going
to promise you a painless death."
I placed my gloved hand on his right shoulder and patted it ever so slightly.
"Just a shot and you're gone. That's the best I can do because of the years we've spent together."
"The years we've spent together?" he tackled loudly, his face contorting in pain, "that's the best you can do because of the years we've spent together? If you want to consider the years we've spent
together, then you'll let me go and forget all about this."
"You know I can't do that, Mr. Sinclair."
I can't. Despite the fact that he has always been there, that he was the one who held my hands and taught me how to ride a horse for the first time, that he was the one that taught me how to play chess, how to ride a bicycle, that he was the one that drew what a pussy looked like and taught me the right places to touch and pinch to drive a girl over the edge.
Despite all that, I was going to put a hole in his head today and take his life.
Why? Because he betrayed the family.
And the wages of betrayal was and will always be death.
"No, you can't, you know why? Because you're a bloody monster, Axel, you're worse than the devil itself, you're hell all mixed together and someone like you will never find redemption, not even in hell."
"You know me all too well and you must know that if you keep singing my praises, I'm only going to gloat."
"Bastard, torture me all you want but you're never going to get anything out of me."
He was wasting my time and I was starting to lose my patience.
"Alright then, shall we?"
I walked away from him to take a seat across from him and the guys immediately got to work. They lowered him, made him sit on the electric chair, and strapped him to it.
Hands and legs.
"Get started."
Mr. Sinclair, my childhood buddy, stared at me with so much hatred and venom as the boys get to work. They set the drilling machine and I saw his eyes widen for the briefest second as the sharp pointed mouth of the driller started drawing closer to his body but he didn't allow the fear to show on his face.
I wasn't sure if it was because he wasn't really afraid or because he had resigned himself to this fate but then, fear was the most persistent human emotion and the one that spread the faster.
He might not be afraid now but it was only going to take a couple of seconds.
The sharp mouth of the driller hit the sides of his thigh and he winced as it started drilling past his flesh and then bone.
But he didn't scream.
I knew he wasn't going to scream.
"The other one,"
The other driller started drilling on his hand but he didn't scream.
And then the next and the next until there were four drillers in his body and that was when the animalistic screams started. He bounced on and off the chair as the drillers plunge him into the deepest
part of physical pain and wrung screams that we're unbefitting of humans out of his mouth.
Did the scream tear through my heart and pierce my soul? Yeah, just a tiny winy bit to prove that I wasn't inhuman.
At least, not completely inhuman.
"Just say it, Drew," I called him by the name I always call him, "or we'll be here all day.
"I'm not... Bastard!" he growled out, "I'm not going to say any... Aaarhhhhhhh." his words faded into mindless screams of agony and pain and I watched and watched and watched....
Until he passed out.
"Wake him up," I commanded gruffly as I loosened my tie, and the splashes of water made Drew cough out blood.
toenails and fingers." The guys got to work immediately and more animalistic screams filled the room. I stared at him, bored out of my mind. It was taking so long for him to talk and I have to sort
"His
or give it to him.
I didn't expect him to hold out for this long.
"Just talk, Drew, you know the tortures are not hard enough to take your life, you're just putting yourself through unnecessary pain."
"Fuck you," he gritted out, his whole body dripping blood, "do you think my daughter who you so much adore would forgive... Aaarhhhh... Do you think she'd forgive you after this? Do you think she'll
be able to look at you the same after this?"
My heart throbbed with an unfamiliar pang.
"I don't care whether your daughter hates me for life after this, I don't think if she doesn't look at me the same after this, the only thing I care about is you telling me what I need to hear and allowing
me to put an end to this as soon as possible."
He chuckled through his pain. Below he fell silent, head slumping and I wouldn't have been so sure that he was still alive if not for the panting and heaving of his chest.
"God!" he muttered in a subdued voice after a while, "I never prepared to say goodbye to my daughter this early and my wife... God!" he sobbed, "I don't think she'd ever survived after losing me."
"Then why did you do it?"
"Sure, I'll be expecting them.
We said our goodbye before she walked inside with her mom and I stood there for a while, unable to leave.
But eventually, I turned back and left, knowing fully well that I was never going to see her again and not allowing myself to feel any pain for the little girl who doesn't deserve to lose her father this early
in life.
Because that's what the mafia does.