Page 32 of Lost Soul

“Not him again... please,” the boy weeps.

“You reckon the worst I could do to you is have Troj come back down here?” I throw a laugh at the kid. He looks up at me, eyes bulging from their sockets, tears streaking down his face and merging with the blood-tinged snot leaking from his nose.

He’s a mess.

“My friend was just the fuckin’ warm-up act,” I warn, crossing over to the table where all Cobie’s belongings are laid out neatly. I don’t have to guess who handled this aspect of the kidnap, Grimm, is a perfectionist. The wallet, cell phone, and a baggy of what looks like MDMA are all lined up in size order. I take the cell phone and tap at the home button with my thumb. It’s locked, of course, so I ask Cobie for the passcode, and he doesn’t hesitate in giving it to me.

“thr… three… f... four… five… se… seven,” he stutters

I scroll to the camera app and flip it on to video mode.

“Right, Cobe. There are two ways this could go, how it does… kinda depends on you. I need you to answer me a few questions. Nothing too personal, and if you answer them without giving me any trouble, you get to receive your punishment and still be home in time for dinner.” Cobie nods his head enthusiastically.

“You decide you wanna make me work for those answers, then I’m gonna get all mad ‘n’ shit, and that’s when I get careless… Things go wrong. I ain’t gonna lie to you, buddy, there have been some people sat in that chair who haven’t made it home.”

“I’ll tell you everything. I swear, just let me go. Please.” The boy breaks down again, his pathetic pleading voice already irritating the fuck out of me and I haven’t even started.

“Cobes, I can see you’re a smart kid.” I smile at him. “I’ma do something for you that I don’t usually do… Here,” I hold the phone up in front of him.

“I’ll give you the chance to record a message to the person you love the most in this whole world, and if…” I shrug, “I do ‘accidentally’ end up losing my shit. I promise I’ll personally deliver it to them for you.” I smile again.

The boy lets out a weak moan, but he doesn’t have time to panic.

“Aaaannd action.” I hit record and do fuck all to stop my cocky smirk as he records a wailing message to his parents. He apologizes for everything he's ever done to let them down and tells them how much he loves them. When he’s done, I take the phone and place it back on the table. Grabbing the bag of pills, I drop my friendly act, and push his stash into his face.

“Where you get the shit?” I ask him, my calm tone flipping to rage when I remember Hayley's eyes rolling back in her head.

“Some guy called Sp..Sp..Spider,” he stammers. “Wears a cut like yours, only his has a smiling devil on.”

Fucking Bastards, I saw this one coming.

“Do you know who we are?” I ask him, and he nods his feeble little head up and down slowly.

“Dddddirty Souls,” he squeaks through tears.

“And you know that the girl you gave these to last night is our president's daughter, right?” The kid closes his eyes and nods again.

“If you didn’t stink of your own piss I'd be asking if you’re brave or just fucking stupid.” I stare down to his urine-soaked pants.

“She just wanted to have a good time,” he cries like a kid fallen off his bike.

“You could have fucking killed her,” I yell out. Blood flying from his mouth as my knuckles impact with his jaw.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't know she wouldn't be able to handle it, thought she'd be used to shit like that,” he manages eventually.

I nod as if I understand the sorry piece of shit’s excuse, when what I’m really thinking about is the best way to fuck him up. It doesn't take me long to come up with something.

“You like getting high?” I ask, my voice finding a steady calm again. The wet fucker doesn't know how he should answer me. “Come on man, answer the question. You like to get high, right? Who don't?”

The kid nods cautiously, unsure if he’s giving me the answer I want.

“Tell you what. I'll get you some proper shit, shit that will make this…”—I shake his little stash in front of his pathetic face—“seem like swallowing fuckin’ skittles.” I go to walk out.

“No! I’m cool… Thank you. I ju…ju… just wanna go home,” he mumbles nervously.

“Come on Cobe we’re havin’ fun. You just chill out there. I’ll be back. Promise.” I wink and slap his shoulder, before I head up to the club to get Cobie a buzz he won’t forget.

I return not too long later with a syringe in my hand and place it on the table beside him. His eyes move nervously between me and the needle, and I swear he’s either gonna crap his pants or have a panic-induced heart attack that will ruin all my fun.

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