The assassin gazed at the white-washed walls of the airtight room he was enclosed in, his eyes searching frantically for a way of escape but there was none.
As far as his eyes could see, the only spot that seemed like a window was covered in a dark velvet cloth blocking out all light from the room except for the flicking light bulb over his head.
Was this the end? He wondered. Just a few hours ago, he had been so close to accomplishing his assignment, and now, here he was, reduced to nothing without having any idea whether this was his last day on Earth.
The woman whom he had been sent to kill would not forgive him, that he was sure of. There was only one way of getting out of this mess; escaping.
At about 6 feet tall, the assassin was taller than most. He had always thought that that gave him an edge above others. Now was the time to finally make good use of his height.
His dark eyes roamed through the room until they landed on the mirror directly opposite him. He watched his reflection on it and made different faces while still looking at the mirror. His image looked back tauntingly at him, reminding him how ugly he looked, a reward he got from the reckless life he lived.
He felt the urge to get hold of the mirror and smash it on the floor until the tiny shreds fell in all directions. He tried to move but only succeeded in moving an inch. His movement was restricted by the strong ropes that had been used to tie him to the stake.
The assassin stopped at once and listened. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps, or was it his mind playing games with him? It couldn't be. Although this kind of torture couldn't drive one mad, he was not quite sure he had gone mad yet, still, he could not rule the thought out of his mind.
He listened again, this time making a conscious effort to pay close attention to the sounds his ears were receiving. There was indeed someone walking toward the room where he was being held hostage. Or was it just one person?
The tapping of the footsteps were too numerous to belong to just one person. Had she come with her thugs to beat him up? It did not seem like what she would do, considering his offense. She was the kind of person that would be more creative in her ideas to send him to his grave. So, who was the second person with her?
As he racked his brain searching for answers, the door before him suddenly swung open. Vanessa Winthrop stepped into the room, walking in her full glory. The assassin watched her slow graceful steps as she entered and knew at once that the devil himself had come to pay him a visit.
Behind those innocent-looking eyes, there was a devilish heart inside of her. Who knew? Perhaps she had come to have hos heart all fried up in a plate.
A massive-looking man came behind her. He had dark ebony skin and eyes that sunk deep into their sockets. This man looked like something out of this world, like some alien from another world.
The assassin shuddered at once, not knowing what to expect by this August visit from Vanessa and her new bodyguard. One thing was clear to him now. She had come to seek revenge for his attempted murder of her.
Vanessa Winthrop swayed her long flowing gown from side to side as she encircled him. She did not say a word yet, but silently, her eyes were doing the work of scrutinizing the assassin that had been sent to take her life.
He looked human, native American even. That meant that whoever sent him had paid him handsomely for the job for him to agree to attack someone of his breed. She had to find out who that was and make him pay dearly for the crime he had almost committed.
"Who sent you?" Vanessa asked, standing directly before him and gazing into his dark cold eyes.
The assassin remained mute. His eyes were bored into hers daring her to do her worst. Vanessa smiled. She loved dealing with these kind of folks. They made her explore her dark sides while trying to break them.
"I assumed you were not going to talk, so I already got myself prepared for this kind of event. You see, I always have a contingency plan. That is the reason I will always be ahead of you."
A faint smile crossed the assassin's lips. "What do you want to do? Kill me?" He gave a dry laugh and continued, "My life is worthless, even to me. Whether you kill me or not, it is of no use. You will not get the answer you need and the thought alone is going to haunt you for the rest of your life."
Vanessa grunted, taking in everything he said. Then, she looked sideways and winked at her bodyguard. He seemed to get the message at once. He walked menacingly toward him and violently unloosened the rope that held him bound.
The assassin tried to fight his way out of his grip but he soon discovered that his strength was no match for the other man's powers.
The huge bodyguard tied his hands together at the back and threw him down on the concrete floor. He landed with a loud thud. The assassin wondered what he was up to.
Without a word, the bodyguard swung a bowl up the ceiling directly over him. The bowl seemed to be dripping. Next, he positioned him on the ground in such a way that his face aligned with the dripping bowl.
Then, to restrict his movements, he dragged two huge chairs made of heavy metal to both sides of the assassin and kept them there. He grabbed a long rope and tied him into position between the two huge chairs. At this rate, even if he tried to move his face, it would be impossible to keep it away from the center of the bowl where he was lying underneath. That was a problem.
The assassin was finding it difficult to understand what was happening. Vanessa simply stood there, watching him, a devious smile on her face.
As he continued to wonder what was happening to him, cold ice water began to drip from the bowl and landed on the space between his eyes. It did not make sense at first but Vanessa was about to make the much-needed explanations.