Page 89 of Alfie: Part Two

Luka had nothing to say anyway. He stammered and panted, minutes away from giving himself a panic attack, and I was over it. I wanted to focus more on Jakov, so I grabbed the duct tape and shut Luka up again.

I nodded, satisfied, and turned to Jakov. “Now it’s just you and me, buttercup.”

“S-stop it! Please stop!”

“Did you like it when my mom begged for mercy?” I asked quietly. “Does that bring in more money for the videos, when the women scream for help? Like, do you count the pleas when you decide the price? I admit, I’m not familiar with your creative field. But I found it curious how my mom’s video was being sold for two hundred bucks, while another woman’s was three hundred, and one was just one-fifty.”

The fucker just stared at me. Jaw clenched. Forehead beading with perspiration.

“Answer me!” I yelled.

He flinched and breathed through clenched teeth.

Fine. So be it. I picked up the hammer and squatted down on the floor. Then, before he could curl his toes like a dick retracting in cold water, I let the hammer come down with force on his big toe, and he screamed bloody murder.

“Son of a whore!”

What did the fucker say?! “Dipshit, did you just call my mother a whore?” I slammed down the hammer across all his toes until his screams morphed into garbled choking. “Choose your words better, you inbred sack of shit.”

I slipped on the brass knuckles again, and I rose to my feet.

“Are you ready to apologize?” I demanded.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, just k-kill me and get it over with!”

“Nah.” I punched him hard in the stomach, wanting him to feel what those women had felt. “Do you even know the damage you caused? All the internal injuries you gave them? Broken legs, shattered knees, ruptured spleen, cracked ribs, one punctured lung—one of the women spent a week in the ICU, you absolute roadkill.”

More screams, more garbled bullshit. The chair tipped for a second when he gasped for air and threw his head back.

I punched him in the jaw too.

Luka watched with terror in his eyes, and I didn’t wanna spoil things. So I positioned myself in front of him, planted a boot on his chest, and kicked him back, effectively crushing his tied arms against the floor.

“You’ll get yours later,” I told him.

At least his agony was muffled by the tape.

I went back to punching Jakov across the face, because it was time to watch him bleed. Right in the mouth, over the cheek, in the eye, back to the mouth—and there we go. Blood spurted from his lips, a sight that transported me back to the screen with Mom’s video. She’d lost blood too.

“Please help!”

“S-stop,” Jakov wheezed out. “P-please.”

“I can’t br-breathe…”

My heart started pounding.

“I can’t breathe!”

“Stop,” I exhaled. I wasn’t sure if I said it to myself or to someone else, but I just needed to stop for a moment.Deep breaths. My vision blurred. The shadows from the spotlight on the floor contorted Jakov’s face, making it look more gruesome and evil, and I wanted it unrecognizable. Smashed in.

I swallowed shakily, and my breath misted in the air. It was the weirdest sensation. The room was cold and clammy at the same time, the air sticking to my skin. Skin that was cold to the touch but pulsed with heat from underneath.

Fuck. Just as I was about to wipe a hand over my face, I saw my trembling fingers. Hands completely covered in blood.

It’s not my blood, Mom. Don’t worry. I’m only taking care of our problem. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it sooner, before he hurt you.

Jakov coughed and spat out blood.

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