Page 3 of Blood Spilled
I stare at the contents of the bowl that resembles shit and kick it over with my foot. The strong, putrid smell permeates in the air, and it's as bad as it looks. I bet it tastes even worse.
He clicks his tongue. “Someone's being a bad little mouse. Looks like you'll have to eat it off the floor now. Come on, clean up the mess you made.”
I want to scream for him to eat it himself, but nothing more than a few intelligible sounds come from my mouth. I ball my fists, hitting them hard against the floor, hating how helpless he’s made me. He laughs and the deep hollow sound sends chills down my spine and at the same time leaves my ears fuming. “What's the matter, little mouse? Do you need me to force feed it to you? I can promise you it's as awful as it sounds. It won't be for me though. I may enjoy it too much.”
He kicks the brown slop closer to me with his foot. “Go ahead, bon appétit. I won't leave until you eat every last bite.”
I swallow hard and crawl toward the food. Willing to do anything to make him go away. I can't believe I let myself return here again. Although, unlike my father, Angel has no reason to keep me alive. He will rip me from the inside out and then toss me into the ocean, making me fish food. At least there may be an end to this torture. I was never given an out before. I doubt my dad ever helped keep me alive for my benefit. Never once did it feel like he was being merciful.
I lower my face to the ground, slowly sticking out my tongue and cringing at the first lick. I close my eyes, allowing myself to go to the place I used to go to in order to survive my father’s punishments. The place where I feel absolutely nothing. I lap at the food, taking larger bites and trying hard to hold it in my mouth, even when I had the urge to gag. Each swallow is worse than the last.
It goes roughly down my sore, dry throat. I haven't eaten real food in a while and calling this real food was a stretch. It's almostas if I've forgotten how to swallow. He holds up a cold bottle of water, shaking it above me. “You want this, little mouse? Only a few more bites left. Show me how deserving you are of it. I could always grab you water from the toilet.”
I sneer at his malicious smile. The condensation dripping from the water bottle has me licking my lips. I take a deep breath and shove my face back into the brown goo, wrapping my mouth around as much as I can at one time, taking larger and faster swallows. I grit my teeth when I close my mouth around the cold grimy food. After swallowing the last bite, he smiles wider and pats me on the head. “Good little mouse. Now open wide.”
I tilt my head to the side and before I can question him, he twists open the top and tilts the water bottle toward my face. He laughs as water pours over me, hitting my cheek. I move closer with my mouth opening wide, trying to catch as much as possible. He moves the bottle side to side, forcing me to follow each movement of his hands.
I don't get nearly enough in my mouth and it doesn't take long for the bottle to be empty. He kneels down in front of me. “Maybe if you had listened the first time and didn't make such a mess, I would have actually handed it to you. The less you act like a civilized person, the less I'll treat you like one.”
I can't stop the next words from coming out of my mouth. I swear I can see my father's face peering down at me when the awful word parts from my lips. “Please.”
“Please what, little mouse?”
“Please, go fuck yourself,” I spit.
He lifts his hand in the air and it comes down so fast, I don’t have time to back away. The sting is sharp and harsh, leaving me breathless. “Maybe next time you'll do exactly what you're told without the profanities. You forget this is my world you're in now. In my world, you will live by my rules.”
I tighten my jaw, wanting to reach for the nearby throw up and toss it at him. Only there’s no telling what my punishment will be if I do. I stay where I am instead, debating whether I should grovel some more just to have more to drink. How did I get here? How did I get to the point where I have become so desperate for water? I'm already missing the small amount of drops I did manage to get in my mouth.
The wetness felt heavenly on my tongue. I was hooked up to fluids and feeding tubes for what felt like forever. Rarely had anyone come in to rinse my mouth out. When they did it was with a small stick with a sponge at the end with barely any water on it, leaving my mouth feeling more like it was stuffed with cotton.
He kneels down further and ruffles my hair. “I'll get someone to come clean up this mess you made. Do it again and I'll have you clean it all up with your tongue. Do you understand, little mouse?”
“Stop calling me that.” My words don’t come out louder than a whisper.
He shakes his head. “I don't think I will. You forget, the more you hate it, the more I love it. Sweet dreams, little mouse.”
Four
Angel
He backs up into the cage, away from my touch, sneering. He's naked and shivering, scrunching up his nose in reaction to his own filth. He's miserable and I'm loving every minute of it. I close the door behind me, making sure to lock it. He may be chained up, but I still can't take any chances. He was making all the right facial expressions but his eyes were empty. It's almost as if he went somewhere else and allowed his body to act on impulse.
Someone clears their throat from behind me. “Boss, I hate to bother you, but I think we found her.”
I'm about to ask who when my words get caught in my throat at the revelation. Santiago's mother has been hiding out somewhere and I've had my men looking everywhere. Miguel lost interest a while ago, but I haven't. I want every single one of them gone. They are all poisonous and this woman is probably already forming her own plan for revenge as we speak. I nodtoward my office after staring back at the room Santiago is in. “Not here.”
He follows closely behind me, and I shut the door once we're both in my office. I take a seat in my black leather chair, gesturing for him to sit in the seat across from me. “So, tell me, where do you think the bitch is hiding?”
Diego smiles. “I'm more than sure she is hiding in a cabin just outside the city, in a country home. She was spotted at one of the local diners. Rumor has it she's not convinced her son is dead.”
I arch a brow and drop the pen I was twirling in my fingers. “Why would she think that?”
He sighs heavily. “The grave site has been tampered with. Someone dug up the casket and there was no body found.”
I slam my palm down hard on the oak desk. “Fuck. That means she already has someone working for her.”
“Or working with her. Think about it. What could she and this person have in common? Most people aren't fans of Santiago, but also many people’s businesses have suffered with him gone.”
