Page 28 of Malicious Desires

“Oh, so you admit to being with our girl?”

“What, no, I mean…”

I chuckle. “Come with me, Rob.”

He opens his mouth to say something but only an ‘eek’ comes out, a squeak of sorts. I grab his arm and drag him away. He’s weak as fuck, not even fighting back as I drag him to the private rooms at the back of the club.

The back one is unlocked and opening the door I shove him inside. He falls to the ground, shrinking away from me. I lock the door behind me and take a moment to admire the ‘toys’ Barth has left for me. A small sledgehammer, an icepick, some pliers, fishing lures, and a large serrated knife.

I pick up the knife, running my finger down the non-serrated side. “These look like fun.”

Rob is still on the floor, clutching his knees to his chest whilst whimpering.

He spits at me as I approach him, taunting him with the knife pointed at him.

“Tell me what you did to Katee?”

“Nothing. I didn’t touch her!”

“That’s not what I heard,” I tell him, pressing the serrated edge of the knife against his forehead.

He whimpers again. “Don’t hurt me, please,” he begs.

“You gonna talk? Tell me what you did.”

“I told you, nothing. It was just a lap dance like all clubgoers are entitled to.”

“If it was just a lap dance I wouldn’t be here, fucker.”

I take a step back, putting the knife back on the table and grabbing the pliers. I stand over his legs then, gripping his hair in a fist to tilt his head back.

“What…are…you…doing?” he stammers, his voice in raspy breaths.

“Making you talk, and thinking about yanking your teeth out one by one.”

He yelps as I yank on his hair more for his mouth to open. His eyes are glassy as though he’s about to cry, and I let out a callous laugh, pushing the closed pliers between his lips.

He tries to speak, but he doesn’t have a chance as I pry the pliers open, stretching open his mouth. The tip of the pliers close around his very front tooth, and I wrench the pliers out of his mouth taking the tooth with them. He lets out a deafening scream.

I laugh maniacally, asking him, “Gonna talk now?”

“Seriously, what kinda psycho are you?”

“Your worst nightmare, if you don’t talk.”

“Fine, I touched her,” he yells at me. “Happy?”

“Did she consent to that?”

He scoffs. “No. She’s a fucking stripper, and she was grinding on my lap.”

“So that gives you the right to touch her?”

He laughs and spits out the blood filling his mouth right at me.

“Yeah, the bitch got me hard.”

I stare at him, contemplating my next move. I can tell he’s not telling me everything. He did more than touch her.

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