Page 32 of Yours to Break

Yes, yes, as it should remain. Please.

“Stop spoiling the fun. Why don’t we undo the guy and have him straddle the back of the chair?” Hudson suggested.

Nope, no; no need to go to such lengths.

I watched with bated breath as Hayes thought it over, nodding his agreement after little internal debate.

After some rearranging on their part, I made the asinine mistake of looking at the man’s face, which led to me accidentally making eye contact with him.

“Help, please!” he begged, his tear-stained face already so bruised-up that I couldn’t picture what the man normally would’ve looked like. “Please! They’re insane!”

Hudson clucked, “Not sure if you’ve realized it, buddy, but your requested savior isn’t in a position to assist.”

“I’m sorry,” I struggled to say, eaten up by his desperate pleas.

Hayes snapped, grabbing the stranger’s hair painfully, “Stop fucking looking at him or I’ll tear out your eyes.”

“That sounds fun, actually,” Hudson mused.

“Actually,”mimicked Hayes, “I just thought of a fun game we could play.” Jesus Christ. I did not need to be a character in a Saw movie today.

“Um… how about we don’t do that?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, pet. You’d just be a spectator. Ford here is the contestant, I’ll be the host, and Hudson will be the Vanna White,” said Hayes, earning a look of confusion from his brother.

“I’m sorry, but who?” Hudson’s brow knitted.

The man they had been calling Ford said, “That lady who reveals the letters on the board.”

Hayes backhanded him. “No one asked you.”

At the same time, Hudson snapped his fingers and recalled, “Ohhh! I don’t have any dresses lying around, but I’ll do my best.” I almost laughed as he winked over at me.

“Well then. Here’s how it’ll go. I’ll ask Ford some questions, and if he answers them correctly, nothing will happen. If he answers incorrectly, Hudson will break one of his fingers with a hammer.”

Holy fuck.

Ford yelled, panicked, “Hell, no! Fucking lunatics. Why would I agree to that?”

Hayes chuckled, “You’re going to die either way. If you refuse to play, I’ll skin your face and dump lemon concentrate on you. If you play and answer the questions correctly, we’ll just put a bullet in your skull. So, what’ll it be?”

“Fuck. Fine. I’ll play your fucking game,” Ford sneered, sweat dripping down his face, as his eyes tracked Hudson grabbing a hammer off the tool wall. For a split second, I almost thanked the doomed man; I did not want toeverwitness the torture Hayes had described.

“Great!” said Hayes. “Question one… let’s see. Did you enjoy poisoning your wife?”

“What?” I blurted. Hayes circled the chair like a predator, throwing a brief smile over his shoulder at me.

“I—What? I did no such thing!” Ford protested, his face growing red.

Crunch.

I stared in shock at Ford’s newly mangled pointer finger.

“Oops—hand slipped,” Hudson cooed mockingly.

Hayes sighed, “You’re supposed to wait until I say whether the answer’s correct or not.”

“Ugh, fine. Go on.”

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