Page 33 of Yours to Break

“Question two, then. Did you really think she wouldn’t figure it out?” Hayes asked, looking blankly at the man spluttering and wriggling below him.

“She—Did Sheila put you up to this?” Ford shrieked.

“Do you have a defective brain? It’s a yes or no answer,” Hayes grunted.

“Fuck! I didn’t fuckin—”

Crunch.

“Listen, buddy. We’re not the cops, and we already know the answers, so the smartest move would be to just answer the questions,” Hayes griped, a look of contempt shrouding his face.

“B-but why—if you already know…” Ford bit out as he struggled to speak between gasps of pain.

“Because it’s fun,” Hudson answered.

“Alright, question three. Do you know that your online mistress is a catfish?”

“Ivanka? She’s not fake! We’ve been together for three years!”

Hayes huffed in amusement. “Well, I guess you chose no, which is technically correct, even though she is indeed a catfish.” Ford breathed a harsh sigh of relief.

“Aw, damn…” pouted Hudson, looking longingly at Ford’s hand.

“Next question,” continued Hayes. “Do you deserve to live?”

“Yes! Y-yes, please! Ple—”

Crunch.

Another grating scream.

“You’re no fun to play with, Ford. We’re getting rather bored here. Aren’t we, pet?” My eyes came back into focus, meeting Hayes’s line of sight. I didn’t appreciate that I was already responding topetas my title.

“S-sorry, what?” I stammered.

Hayes’s lips tipped up as he softly replied, “You’re bored, yes? You want the game to be over?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Yes.”

My body reacted to the gunshot before my brain did, hunching into myself at the noise.

“There. All done,” Hayes sang.

I made the mistake of peeking through my fingers towards his voice. Blood pooled under the chair, covering the preexisting stains, making me wonder exactly how many lives had been lost—how many times this room had been graced with death herself.

Would she soon be back for me?

14

Hudson

Had we traumatized the little guy? Without a doubt.

By the time we had taken care of the mess downstairs, Oliver was still in a deeply shocked state. At first, I thought he was pretending, but no matter what, he wouldn’t respond to us or move, and his eyes looked dull and lifeless.

The positive was that this allowed Hayes and me to easily move him from the basement up to the second floor, where our bedrooms were, without a fight. We were even able to get him in the shower, passing his body back and forth between us as we took turns washing him from head to toe.

Was there fondling involved? Most certainly. How could we not have with his skin glistening and soapy, and his tiny body irresistibly on display?

---