Page 35 of The Truths We Seek

RORY

I’ve always known that I’m a monster, that my lust for inflicting pain was not something most people had, but watching Trent dangle from that chain like a limp doll brings me more joy than I’ve felt before, and I’ve barely even started.

The dried blood staining the concrete at his feet is from my last session with him, as is the dried blood that mars his skin. But seeing him so fucking helpless after what he did to Quinn brings a perverse sense of pride.

Especially when his humiliation from soiling himself is clear for all to see.

“Just get on with it,” he grinds out. “I know that look, I wear that look, but you won’t win.”

A sadistic grin spreads across my lips. “We’ll see. I do love a good challenge.”

I turn to the table at my back, poring over the array of toys I have there, trying to decide where to start. I’ve kept things reasonably typical for extraction thus far, but it hasn’t worked.

So maybe I need a new tactic.

I glance at the sedative at the edge of the tray. That will definitely help to move him, but I want to hear him scream first.

Picking up the crow bar, I turn back to him. He doesn’t need his knees. And I can break things before I cut them off.

Way more fun.

“All you need to do is tell me who gave you Quinn’s location.”

He spits at me, hatred shining in his eyes. “I won’t tell you a fucking thing other than, if you think you only have one person in your operation that’s willing to betray you, you’re a fucking fool. I see why you’re drawn to her, you’re just as fucking stupid as she is.”

I bring the crowbar down on the side of his knee at full force, his cries of agony like a symphony to my soul. “You don’t speak about her, think about her, or utter her fucking name.” I swing again at his knee, reveling in the sounds that I pull from him.

“Now, I can do this all day, but can you?”

He sucks in a few breaths, trying to compose himself, and I laugh loudly, the sound echoing around the cavernous space. He just glares at me, which makes me laugh all the more.

Sauntering back to the tray, I grab the syringe with the sedative before turning back to him, keeping the smile that he seems to hate oh so much plastered on my face. “Oh, Trent, you might think you’re a monster, but you have no idea what I’m capable of. And that was before you came for the woman I love. You have no idea.”

I push the needle into his throat, about where he did it to Quinn—a poetic kind of justice in my eyes—and slowly administer a small amount of the sedative, enjoying the clench of his jaw as the poison stings in his veins. “Now, go to sleep and dream of me while I prep you for the ride of your life.”

“Fuck. You.” The words are quiet, slightly slurred through the mixture of drool and blood, as the sedative takes hold. I let the smile drop from my face as he goes limp. He won’t be out for long, just long enough for me to do what I need to.

I’m not stupid enough to let him down yet, so I grab the clear metal table from the corner of the room and drag it to where I’ve set up my work space. It seems almost out of place being so clean and shiny, but it won’t stay that way for long.

Untying the leather restraints on the table, I think through the optimal punishment for someone like Trent while still getting him to speak.

Once the table is prepped and I’ve cleaned my blades, enough time has passed that I know the sedative has taken hold. I release the chains holding Trent up, taking a small sliver of pleasure as he crumples to the ground.

Heaving him onto my shoulder should be harder, but he’s lost weight since he’s been here. The worst part is the stench coming from him. Dumping him on the table, I buckle the restraints around his head, neck, wrists and ankles before cutting the clothing from his body.

Nothing quite like being naked to make a guy feel nice and vulnerable.

Once he’s strapped in, I make sure the grate is open to drain fluid from the table, then grab a bucket and fill it with icy cold water. Splashing it over his blood, dirt, and shit-covered body, he startles awake with a yell, making me laugh once more.

“What the fuck?” he shouts as I lift one of the smaller blades from my spread.

“I told you, Trent. I’ll get the names I need, and I won’t let you die beforehand. You can make this stop at any time. Just give me names.”

I start at his feet, running the scalpel around his cuticles then along the flesh of his nail beds, launching his toenails across the room with a careless flick of my wrist. I ask him the same question repeatedly, and when he’s too busy screaming to answer, I begin on the pads of his toes, cutting away small segments of the skin and peeling it from the meaty flesh beneath the dermis.

Once he’s finally stopped screaming and his breaths hiss through clenched teeth, spewing spittle into the air to land back on his face, I take a more direct approach. The blade slices through the tender skin in the arch of his foot with ease, blood finally flowing freely from the incisions.

This draws fresh screams from him, nourishing the darkest, most twisted parts of my soul.

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