Page 84 of His Favorite Color is Blood
“So you are the good soul who picked up this little mongrel after he fled his home,” he said, stepping closer.
Misha couldn’t bear to look at Zero and glanced at Dennis instead, desperate to make sure he was fine. Their eyes met, and guilt rolled over Misha’s heart, trampling any hope he had before the unexpected phone call awoke them in the middle of the night. He knew the look Dennis was giving him. It was pure, unadulterated terror. Dennis would rather die right here than have Zero take him back to his current headquarters. Misha’s eyes stung, and he blinked away the tears that pushed at his eyes when he remembered all the times he faked a connection with Dennis, just to lure him into Zero’s grasp and save his own skin. Nothing in the world could ever make up for that kind of betrayal
When he spoke to Zero, Grim’s warm tenor was as calm as it always was. “I’m far from being a kind soul. I didn’t save him out of sympathy.”
Misha felt his face tingling when it drained of blood. He trusted Grim. He loved Grim, but far too much truth rang in his words. It was as if Grim were seeking a common ground with Zero by revealing a part of him that Misha knew Grim was ashamed of. The part, which wanted Misha just for his stumps, for the way he took cock on screen. Maybe it was a necessity, but it still hurt to hear him say such things out loud.
A slight frown ghosted across Zero’s face, but he finally laughed. “Not what I expected. You’re a bold one. What’s your name?” he asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and offered the pack to Grim, who declined with a gesture.
“I’m Logan. What about you? Is Zero your real name?”
Zero blew out some smoke. “It is now.”
Grim nodded, his body relaxed as if he were about to go for a ride on his beautiful Harley. It was odd to hear him introduce himself with a name he no longer used, but maybe this time hewasLogan? Maybe it really wasn’tGrimwho entered this place at Misha’s side?
Zero stepped toward the two of them, and one of the goons immediately raised the rifle, aiming it at Grim. It made Misha so tense hecould throw up any second.
“I’m glad you brought him here so that I can say my goodbyes the right way. Would you mind if I touched him?” asked Zero, as if he really somehow considered Misha transferrable property.
Grim pushed his hands into his front pockets. “I would.”
Zero looked up at him, blinking. “Well, I will still do it. If you say no, my man’s gonna blow your head off your shoulders. It seems to me you are confusing simple courtesy with a real question.”
“That might be the case,” said Grim. “I’m a farm boy. Nuanced social interaction was never one of my strong points.”
Zero laughed, and with the way his eyes followed Grim, the strange duality Grim displayed piqued Zero’s interest.
“How about you show me your home video?”
Grim waited a whole two seconds before handing over the flash drive, maybe just to show that he wouldn’t be blindly compliant, but Zero accepted the device without a word and walked over to the window. Misha noticed a laptop on the windowsill. His blood rushed, and he was grateful for the wheelchair keeping him up, because his head became uncomfortably light the moment Zero opened the computer and connected the flash drive.
He looked at one of the goons, the bald giant who invited Grim and Misha into the building. “T4, where’s the projector? I’m sure Dennis wants to watch the movie as much as I do?”
Misha let out a quiet whine, but he was ready to accept the consequences of his actions. He stared at his stumps, hidden away by the pinned-up sweatpants, but eventually, the room became slightly brighter, and he looked up at the large rectangular screenshot of a computer screen on the wall. The peaceful picture of a green forest at sunrise had the same quality that Zero’s suits had. It was a mask. A mask that obscured all the ugly faces of the man who tortured people for fun.
A window popped open, revealing the one file in the folder. A movie that lasted less than fifteen minutes. It seemed much, much longer in real time. A quarter of an hour seemed hardly enough for the amount of torture Grim inflicted on Tomas. A human life terminated within such a short time frame. It was less than the length of an average cartoon.
Zero looked back at them, as if hesitating whether he should open the file. “Misha, come over. I want to share this with you.”
Misha sank into the wheelchair, and Grim eventually pushed the chair forward, but Zero snorted and stopped them with a gesture.
“No, my friend. You stay right there. I’m not interested in you.”
Grim hesitated but eventually let go, leaving Misha to confront his fear alone. His attention dispersed when the chair wiggled under Dennis, but one of Zero’s bodyguards steadied him before he could fall, and the relief was enough to pump Misha’s muscles with just enough strength to approach his biggest fear.
His knees were going soft and his shoulders tensed as he rolled the wheelchair toward Zero. It was like walking on a tightrope over an endless canyon full of spikes that would pierce his body if he fell. He was out of breath, and his brain blanked, defying Misha and leaving him without words. His silence didn’t seem to bother Zero, and the bright smile the man gave him was enough to send Misha into a well of unwanted memories. The pain had been so intense. He was going crazy just smelling Zero’s favorite cologne, but unlike an abused dog, he was not ready to bite the hand that slid down his cheek. Without Grim at his side, Misha felt completely defenseless in the face of Zero’s cruelty.
“Show me your legs. I want to see my handiwork one last time,” whispered Zero with a rasp to his voice.
Misha took a sharp breath, fighting against his windpipe, which abruptly clenched, as if refusing to be agreeable. Instead of an answer, a broken sob left Misha’s mouth, and his eyes overflowed with tears the moment he felt those warm, bloodthirsty hands on him.
They were on his head. Zero would make him suck his cock. He’d make Grim watch, and then he’d have them both made into quad amputees, to be abused without any chance to fight back. They shouldn’t have come here, yet if they left Dennis to die, what would that make them? They couldn’t run all their lives.
“Didn’t you hear me, Misha?” asked Zero in that soft-spoken voice that was like a callback to a much more vulnerable time. Misha cried, squeezing his hands over the soft fabric of his sweats. He wanted to do what was required of him, be the brave man Grim needed him to be, but terror made his fingers stiff and uncompliant as hot tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Is that necessary?” asked Grim, and before Misha could even comprehend what his words meant, Zero’s fingers were unfolding the fabric that hid away his stumps. He screamed, but no sound came out, and so he just watched wet spots dot his pants as his stumps gradually emerged into the cool air.
“Shut up. You’re making my boy breathless with that complaining,” hissed Zero.
