Ive pov
4.00 am.
I could have basked in the glow of a successful leader. In simple words, those who were thinking to act against me would meet an untimely and gruesome death. This time it would have been this tall ivory skin with a flawless complexion girl. But that newbie swapped the girls and delivered her late. I was annoyed and that was never good. It was hard to compose myself. Annoyance turning into anger drove me to kill someone. It led me to bash someone's skull with a hammer last time. My anger and resentment were at peak but I tried to keep them at bay. Most people would give up within a maximum of two hours but ivory skin, she held in. She kept breathing. She was one brave chick or there was something wrong with her. The one who I tortured wasn't the one who had to pay. Fuck.
I inspected her as she sat on the chair, unconscious. Black trousers hugged her leg. Her right white long sleeve had a large stain of dry blood, short sweaty hair. Specks of blood across her shirt.
"Boss" Blake stood next to me.
"She said her name was Sefa Parrish. Is that right?"
"Ex-sergeant Lisa turned Agent Parrish"
"Yeah right. She was the next one"I interrupted him.
He nodded.
My jaw clenched, I swiveled around to face the wall. I chuckled evilly. The first thing is my fist hitting it again and again and the second is my knuckles covered with purple splotches.
"What do we do with her now?"
"Throw her into one of the cells. No one should come anywhere near her other than me."
"This identity swap, this mistake would have cost an innocent's life. Anthony should be punished" I said.
Repulsive smell of blood penetrated my nostrils arousing a sense of disgust in my guts. That was her blood that spilled from her body last night.
"Clean that blood up" I groaned.
Blake slided her file into my hand.
Now that she saw my face, she can't possibly get back her freedom. Even though I was the bad guy, I had my principles. I believe in fairness. Give someone what he deserves. She did nothing to deserve the torture. Surely, I don't trust her enough. She is a cop. But, I won't kill her unless I become sure she has something in her sleeve. My men got her otherwise she would be breathing her last at this moment. She should be grateful.
For now, she gets to live, fair enough though my skin itched to strangle her inviting bare, virgin neck. I looked away and strode out of the interrogation cell. This didn't go the way it should have. I just had to throw her after I nab that scumbag. Now, she would have been outside, free.
I decided I'll play some games for the next two hours.
6.00 am.
I had been seated for about fifteen minutes. I was beginning to feel agitated. Most people feared me for obvious reasons. They never dared to look into my eyes. As she glanced up to me, the look she sent me, it was as if she was staring right into me, delving into my soul. Blue, her eyes were baby blue. They intrigued me. I didn't like her eyes. I didn't like her. Vile thoughts of impaling her with a sharpened pipe flooded in my brain. She amused me.
"I guess I've met my match"I smirked angrily.
I pressed the inside of my cheek.
"Time to meet Sefa Heitz now"I smiled.
Anger filled my brain cells. I barged inside her cell. She sat on the chair shivering, sobbing. Poor thing. She was the sister of one of the newbie. I never saw her around. Her brother was dead. I killed him myself since he was planning this with his sister.
She wasn't even tied. I pulled out my knife from my pocket. She had only five toes removed. My men didn't even torture her much. Carve her up, break her limbs, drag a blunt knife against her skin. After all, she had dared to make a move against me, Ive. However, she already spilled out the information. Boring. Nevermind.
Pain is felt at different levels; a faint one, excruciating, throbbing. The fact that people feel pain and hence they react to it spontaneously is so fascinating. Why? Because I don't feel pain.
Empty apologies left her but that didn't trigger any string of my humanity. With that, I just delivered a sharp thrust to her neck with a knife. Her dirty brown eyes went wide. Blood swelled and spun in her throat. She clawed at her throat, gasping for air. Blood began spurting out from the gash. I let go of the knife. It was jutting out of her throat, blood coating it and her tan skin. In a matter of seconds, she was dead. It was fleeting, the look on her face when she realized she'd die. You'll miss it if you blink. It calmed my nerves. Chuckling to myself, I took the knife out carefully, admiring my art. I did a pretty good job. I wiped the knife on my palm and darted out.
She's too noisy.
I hate cheaters.
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
I was watching her jagged breathing as her lids covered her eyes. Tucking her disobedient strand of brown hair behind her ear. My fingers traced the delicate outer skin of her ear. Her arched eyebrows were knitted with fine black charcoal eyelashes. She was in pain. Her delicate ears framed a cute button nose. My gaze hovered over her closed eyes to her soft lips. She was pretty. Her skin was ghostly pale, her lips nearly lost all its color. I scooted near her.
I imagined the look on her face when she would see her death flashing in front of her eyes. She would look the prettiest of all people I've ever killed before. But she did nothing to be killed.
I raised my knife, traced a smile on her face with the tip of my knife carefully so that the blade doesn't pierce through her skin. Her eyes fluttered open. Blue eyes. I hated blue eyes. I needed to see fear in them. I studied her and waited to see dread in her eyes but to my disappointment, fatigue and a mock sweetness colored them.
But then, if I killed her, she may not feel dreadful. She won't have that look. Killing her would be such a waste. She seemed already prepared for the worst. It wouldn't thrill me. I felt uneasy and a little sad. I'm not supposed to kill her. The small distance gap between us didn't bother her the way it was really making me uncomfortable. She looked a bit more composed than before, as if she was numb to the wounds but her eyes were stark red. Her stomach grumbled. Miss agent was hungry.
I was trying hard to control my anger and frustrations. She let loose a loud peal of laughter as if she was challenging me. She wasn't scared of me. My hand launched at her face, smearing blood all over her face and mostly her neck. I stood up. No sooner after I heard a shrill yell of pain. I turned my head to stare into her face. She squeezed shut her eyes, whining in pain. She tried to compose herself quickly. I noted her tears in dismay. Her eyebrows knitted and the creases on her forehead. Why is my body burning? My entire body tensed up. I didn't do anything. She was dying on her own.
You were supposed to not let her die by sending her to a safe place. She won't make it till the morning. You have fucked up Ive. I thought.
But what can I do? Am I a bloody doctor? Who am I kidding? Some doctors are busy taking lives. She surprised me earlier with her boldness. She is my match. My perfect match. A voice whispered nonstop in my head.
"Enjoy the pain" I sniggered.
I exited the cell with a scowl on my face.