Page 121 of The Ripper

“That’s one, James, you won’t like what happens after the second.”

I couldn’t stop myself from headbutting him in the face, only because his face seemed rather clean.

“Arella Santino. Who told you to fire her?” I repeated the question.

“Nobody. She tried to bribe me with—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

“You really expect me to believe she would offer herself to you?” I yelled in his face at the same time my fist connected with his jaw. “You spread these nasty lies about her for what?” I punched him again. “What did you do to her, James?” I gripped his throat in my palm and cut off his air as I leaned over his face. “I’ll ask you again. Who the fuck told you to fire her?”

“Nobody,” he cried, blood spurting out of his mouth.

Another spike pierced through his left shoulder, and Midnight handed me the current clamps.

James’ eyes widened when he saw them, following the cable to the battery I had them connected to, then he started to frantically shake his head and beg me not to do it.

“Please, man, they’ll kill me if I tell you…”

~ How I hate it when they call me “man”.

“James, you’re already dead… how much pain you take until you shake hands with death is entirely up to you,” I told him, then attached the clamps to the spikes and stepped away from the metal grate, taking the remote in my hand.

“Who told you to fire her?”

He shook his head, starting to say a crooked prayer, and I swore through my teeth as I pressed the button. The current aggressively traveled his body, and when I stopped the electricity and jumped back up, white saliva was slipping out of his mouth.

~ Disgusting.

“Who?” I yelled at him, starting to lose my patience.

~ As if you had any to begin with.

“I don’t know. They were traffickers. They told me they’ll erase my debt if I fire her.”

“Where were they from? What did they look like?”

“Tan, fucking tall, one of them had blond hair. They all look the same, for fuck’s sake. Mexicans, I think…”

“You think, or you know, James?” I took out my hunting knife and pressed the blade flat to his stomach.

“I don’t know, they spoke Spanish. What the hell is the difference?” He spat in my face, and I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand.

“Do you know why they call me the Ripper, James?” I ran the blade down his belly, adding enough pressure to split the skin.

“N-no…” he whispered through hiccups.

“Do you want to find out?” I grinned, then moved the blade up, following the exact line, deepening the cut.

He screamed and thrashed in the chains, the hooks pulling at his skin, intensifying his pain.

I moved the blade down again, and up again, careful not to go too deep, feeding on his agony-filled cries until his belly was opened and I could see his intestines.

Midnight watched the whole thing from the side lines, fascinated.

“I’ll pull out your guts and leave them hanging out of you, and you will beg for death, which will definitely come, but it can last long, agonizing hours, which you probably already know, because you’re a doctor, right?”

“Please, I don’t know anything more… I did it to erase my debt. I have no idea who they were or what they wanted with Arella.”

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