Page 10 of Twisted Revelations

6

Laura

When their interrogation tactics failed to work on me, the men went for a break. Two hours of them yelling and knocking things around had been a waste of time.

They’d been gone so long I’d started to nod off. It was their waiting game tactic, I supposed.

My head jerked up when they reentered the room, filling the suffocating space with their smug ugliness. They placed, what I assumed was their torture kit, a shiny wooden box, on the edge of the other side of the table.

As one of the freaks drew closer, bending across the table, I leaned in to meet him, positioning my chest against the table’s edge. My free hand tightened around the table leg that I’d loosened.

Maintaining my position, I glanced through my lashes at the asshole standing above me, attempting to assert his worthless authority. It had become obvious they didn’t know what to do with me.

“Lady, save yourself a fucking beating and answer our questions,” he urged, staring me down. I gave up nothing, only my cold, deadly glare.

His menacing expression deepened as he leaned closer. His hot breath kissed my face as he spoke threatening words that fueled my anger.

“I’m going to fuck up that pretty little face of yours. Knock a few of those nice straight teeth out. Break a few bones….” he continued, taunting me with what I assumed was his scary voice. His intimidation tactics weren’t doing anything but making my body coil to maintain the angry outburst teetering at the edge of my restraint. His buddy stood near the door, snickering.

When the man leaned closer, closing more space between us, hovering less than a foot above me, a smile teased my lips. He was close enough that his dark pupils stood out in his whiskey-brown eyes. “I’m going to…”

Bam!

The loud whack sounded before blood and spittle flew across the room. I’d yanked the table leg free and busted him upside the head with it, attempting to knock his damn jawbone clean off its hinges.

The table shook from our unsteady movements, him wobbling in an attempt to figure out where he was, and me leaning against it for leverage. I remained in place as he staggered back, with enough good sense remaining to get the hell away from me.

His buddy checked him out as I stood from the splintery chair and pointed the table leg at them. Blood poured from the man’s busted mouth, and I prayed that I’d at least knocked out a few teeth or had broken his jaw.

His gurgling voice found its way through the trauma, blood sliding down his chin. “I’m going to kill you, bitch!” He shrieked, holding his mouth with one hand and pointing at me with the other like he was mimicking Celie from The Color Purple.

His body jetted up and down, releasing pure, untamed hatred under his friend’s tight hold. If I weren’t cuffed to the damn table, I’d be fucking them both up. My lips pinched into a tight knot, wanting to get at the man as badly as he aimed to get at me.

“We can’t kill her because Sorio wants that privilege, especially after the Florida incident,” the one who still had all his teeth spat. “We have to find out where the other bitch is located. Sorio is obsessed with finding her, and you know how he gets whenever he doesn’t get what he wants,” he reminded the one with the busted mouth.

Rage consumed the man, chomping at his nerves as he fumed and kept a firm grip on his busted mouth. His free arm flapped about uselessly under his friend’s hold as he continued his attempts to lunge at me.

“I don’t care! I don’t care!” His words were muffled by flowing blood and his swelling jaw. Blood and spit dripped from his mouth and smacked the floor as his flaming words and angling body seethed to exact his revenge.

“I think that crazy bitch broke my fucking jaw,” he revealed, touching his fingertips to his face before glancing at his bloody fingers. If I were stronger, I’d have knocked his neck off his shoulders and stepped over his cold dead body before I did the same to his friend.

His body continued to jump and bob, but his friend kept a firm hold of him. I’d break more than his jaw if he came near me again.

“Wait by the door. I’ll handle the questioning,” his friend proposed as he eyed the guy’s smashed-up face. There was pity in his expression before he balled up his lips, probably his attempt to keep from laughing.

The one who aimed to question me stepped closer, hesitant and cautious. I maintained my composure, hoping he’d be stupid enough to step into my striking range. When he stood across the wobbly table from me, I sent the table leg swinging in his direction. He dodged my attempt by a hair, and the click of his gun sounded, aimed at the spot between my eyes.

“Drop the fucking stick or I’m going to split your head in two,” he threatened, his words laced with his intent. He mistakenly assumed his words were a threat to me, but my adrenaline was revved so high my body shook with rage. His threat was nothing more than idle chitchat. I was banking on a quick kill shot from one of them since it appeared death was my only way out of this mess.

Common sense eluded me when my crazy kicked in, and instead of dropping the table leg like a sane person would have, I swung it at the man’s gun, connecting and knocking it from his hand.

His wounded expression exhibited pain as he fanned his hurt hand through the air, revealing blood.

“Fuck this shit. Kill that wild bitch!” His busted-mouth partner attempted to shout as he stood at the door holding his face together. There was fire shining in his gaze when he aimed his gun at me, the same kind of fire that blazed through my veins.

In a matter of seconds, the one nearest me picked up his gun and aimed too. Their fingers itched to snag their triggers. In my last seconds of life, I accepted that I wasn’t ready to die, but what other option did I have? Play victim so they could torture me and prolong my death?

I hated to leave Beverly like this, knowing she’d do everything in her power to find me. The hard pounding of my heart caused my body to quake with fear, anxiousness, and regret. But, even as I faced death, I was determined to die with a little dignity. I wasn’t going to beg and I sure as hell wasn’t going to cry. My eyelids fell at the sight of their weapons and fuming faces trained on me.

As soon as my lids closed, I was drenched in darkness, and the sound of my last breaths was the tune I’d die to.

Pop! Pop!

Two pops signified my end. It happened so fast, I didn’t feel the bullet’s impact and the pops were low like the sound had been turned down. After a few seconds of me continuing to draw breaths, I allowed one eye to lift.

What the…? Who the…?

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