"Okay, whatever." She said, adjusting her fur coat like she wasn’t standing in a cold, empty room with a man who looked like he had crawled straight out of hell. "Just count the money and let me go. I don’t have all day."
Then, suddenly, he laughed. It wasn’t humor, it was madness, barely held together by whatever remained of his shattered mind.
"What the hell is so funny?"
"You really don’t get it, do you?"
"Get what? That you’re some dramatic weirdo who takes his job way too seriously? Jesus, I don’t care. Just sign whatever papers I need and let me out of here."
"You walked in here thinking you could just take the money and go." Ferucci shook his head.
"Well, yeah. That was the deal. I pack the bags, you sign off on it, and I get the hell out of here. Simple."
Then, in a single motion, he reached inside his jacket and placed a gun on the table.
"Whoa, hey—" She started, her hands slowly rising. "No need for that, alright? I-I don’t want any trouble. I just—"
"Just wanted the money." He finished for her.
"Look, I don’t care about any of that. I was just—"
"Just using James for a payday." Feruccicut her off. "You thought you could walk in here, demand what wasn’t yours, and walk away untouched."
"James owes me, I am his step mother!"
"James owes you?" Ferucci repeated her words and grabbed the gun.
She took another step back. "L-look, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—"
He took a step forward, cutting off her retreat.
"Tell me something darling." Ferrucci whispered, "Do you know what it feels like to fail the one person who gave your life meaning?"
Her back hit the door.
She shook her head quickly, her hands trembling. "I—I don’t—"
"It eats at you. Consumes you. Turns you into something else."
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
"And you walked in here thinking you’d just take from him?"
She opened her mouth to say anything that might get her out of this, but he silenced her with a single word.
He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "I said kneel."
"No, you—this is crazy! I—"
The barrel of the gun pressed against her forehead.
Ferucci whispered to her. "Kneel."
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold concrete floor.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Now, tell me again. What does James owe you?"
The sound of the safety being turned off sent a wave of pure terror through her body.
"N-nothing! He owes me nothing!" She shook her head.
Ferucci waited for a moment looking into her then he struck her head so hard with the gun that she immediately lost consciousness, her body slumping to the side.
He stood there, watching as blood trickled from her head.
"They call it blood money for a reason, you bitch."
With that, he tossed his gun to the ground and grabbed her limp body, putting her onto themetal table. He undressed her and strapped down her arms and legs.
But before he did anything, he made sure to stop the bleeding.
After all, butchering someone who wasn’t even conscious?
That was just boring.
He wrapped a bandage around her head, tightening it just enough to keep her from bleeding out too soon. Once satisfied, he pulled out a small vial, cracked it open, and shoved it under her nose.
Suddenly she woke up. Find more chapters on FreeNovelHub
She gasped, choked, and coughed the stench flooding her lungs like acid she tried to move but she couldn’t.
Her wrists. Her ankles.
Her breathing quickened.
She tried to move again, yanking, pulling, twisting.
"Help! Help me! Please someone!"
Then her eyes turned to Ferucci.
"Let me go! Please! You don’t have to do this! I-I’ll leave, I swear! I won’t tell anyone!"
"Don’t scream, darling. Nobody’s here to help."
"Please, please, I don’t know what you want! Just tell me what you want!"
Ferucci smiled at her.
"Tell me….what is your name?"
As he heard her name, turned away and simply went to a back door, stepping inside a small room where his ’toys’ were.
"Marie… what a fancy name that is…"
He looked at the wall filled with knives, saws and drills, yet somehow, none of them seemed fancy enough for the name.
He reached out for a small saw, feeling its weight and turning it in his hand. "No, this isn’t fancy…"
He put it back and turned to another wall where sledgehammers were.
"Hmm… too barbaric for her."
He looked down, opening a drawer, and there it was, the perfect tool to use.
Surgeon’s knives. Scalpels.
He grabbed two of the scalpels, but his eyes kept drifting back to a small saw and a drill. He couldn’t resist….so he grabbed those too.
The only thing left to do was set the mood.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and a pair of earbuds. As he scrolled through his playlist, Marie’s desperate screams for help echoed through the room, but he paid them no mind.
"Rap? No…maybe country." He clicked on it and listened for a few seconds. "This is ass too…"
Then, his finger stopped.
A classical piano piece with a violin play. A smooth, harmonic flow.
As he returned, he saw Marie’s face twisting with terror, her screams echoing through the room…not that he could hear them. The music was playing, and he was feeling it too well.
He even started humming as he slipped on a pair of gloves and tied an apron around his waist.
Without a word, he picked up the scalpel and began his masterpiece.
The blade dug into her eyelid, slicing it off.
Annoyed by her resistance, he paused. With a sigh, he tightened the strap around her head.
"Punishment for moving too much." He whispered and grabbed the drill and drilled into her kneecaps.
Her screams only grew louder and it was a perfect moment for Ferucci.
He grabbed her tongue, pulled it forward and cut it off but she started choking on her own blood.
To make sure she felt every last bit of suffering, he grabbed the saw, pressed it against her thigh, and in one swift motion, cut halfway through it.
Then, just for fun, he left it there in her thigh.
But his smile wavered as he noticed her head lumping and she didn’t scream more.
Usually, he gave them something to keep them awake, to keep them aware, but he hadn’t given her anything. This was the quickest one yet.
"Ahhh, I fucked it up…"
For a moment, he just stared at her body, at the blood pooling beneath the table. Then something inside him snapped.
Grabbing the scalpel, he plunged it into her flesh, slicing and stabbing.
"Why did you have to die, huh?!" He drove the blade deeper into her stomach, blood spraying to his body.
Again and again, he stabbed, his body shaking.
"Fuck." He said as he stopped. "What a mess…" He looked around and everywhere was blood.
He then went to the door, opening it and stepping out.
"Hey, you!" He shouted to one of the guards. "Bring me trash bags, the thick ones, not that cheap shit. Also, a barrel and that industrial acid."
After that he returned to the small room, grabbing the chainsaw and a facemask and went back to the table.
He tilted his head as he checked out Marie’s body.
"Should’ve lasted longer."