Page 154 of Deviant

“Okay, fine. How many times did you hear me and Aidan fuck?” she asks, using my own vulgar terminology against me.

But even from where I’m sitting, I can see that the light on her chair turns orange, signifying that it has registered her question.

“That all depends. Did you ever fuck my shit-stain of a brother outside of my home?” I taunt, only to feel thousands of volts of electricity run through my entire body.

“Elias!” Rowen shouts, but I’m still struggling to understand what just happened.

I honestly thought the electric chairs were just for show—a scare tactic at best. With no conduit, like a soaked sponge or wet towel, I didn’t think they could do that much harm.

That’s on me. I miscalculated.

If that little shock therapy taught me anything, it’s that the chairs are highly efficient—enough to stop a heartbeat, at least.

“Are you okay?” Rowen asks, the second orange light beaming to life. “And please be careful with how you answer that.”

“I’m fine. Just fucking pissed,” I growl, pulling at the steel restraints as I straighten up.

The minute the words are out of my mouth, the second bulb on her chair turns green.

“You have to answer a question with a truthful answer. You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“I got that, Roe,” I curse under my breath. “But my question was fucking relevant,” I bark out at the camera that is watching us. “Assholes.”

When one of my own bulbs turns orange, I see the pricks decided to accept my question.

“Fine, then, no. I never slept with your brother aside from in your home,” she replies, her eyes begging me to answer her original question truthfully now.

“Then yes. I heard you two going at it every goddamn time. Happy, motherfuckers?” I seethe, my full focus still on the camera.

“Why would you do that?” I hear Rowen ask me, confused.

“I just did, okay?” Another zap, only this one is twice as long as the first one. “Motherfuckers!”

“You have to answer truthfully!” she shouts over the loud humming sound.

“I get it! I get it!” I bark back, beads of sweat starting to drip from my forehead. “I got off on it, okay? Happy, you bastards?!”

“You got off on it?” she whispers, but the damn light turns on again.

“Jesus Christ, woman, you’re killing me here. Yes! Okay, yes. I got off on it. At first, anyway. Then it got real sad, real fast. Hearing my piece of shit brother getting his, while every little moan you made sounded empty, devoid of any true passion, fucking killed me. It sounded like he was having all the fun, while you just lied there, doing math in your head, like counting the minutes until he was done.”

“Then why—”

I stare her down before she’s able to finish that sentence.

“I don’t know.” I let out a deep exhale, answering her just the same. “I thought maybe if I was there with you, even with a wall between us, you wouldn’t feel so alone. ‘Cause even with that dipshit humping you like a bitch in heat, I could tell you weren’t into it. I just couldn’t figure out why you put yourself through it, if you took no pleasure from it.”

“I didn’t think you even registered my existence back then, much less cared,” she says, careful with her wording to ensure it comes out as a sentence instead of a question.

“I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now. Next question.” I wave off, needing to get off this fucking topic.

“You’re lying,” she accuses me angrily.

“Hmm. If only we had a machine that would force me to tell the truth?” I rebuke mockingly. But since my sarcastic remark was formed as a question, one of the bulbs on my chair turns orange, obliging her to answer me.

These assholes are really fucking with me.

“We do have such a machine. You’re sitting on it.”

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