"I swear I don’t know!" Hudson shouted, the chains on his wrists clanging. "I don’t know anything about that, even if you kill me!"
Lola casually swung her foot to and fro, her leg resting over the other. Her initial questioning was simple. She didn’t immediately ask about what he had done to her, or anything related to Lola, to avoid him from tracing her real agenda. Hence, she used information Amala had gathered about Hudson, which Lola had spent time reading on the night the file reached her.
"So, you just don’t know where this person is?" she hummed, playing the syringe between her fingers. "You pimped her out, and then she just suddenly disappeared. Yet, you don’t know or even look for one of your missing girls?"
Hudson clenched his teeth, almost glaring at the person who had been trying to squeeze him out about a missing runaway turned prostitute.
"Many girls run away from the business, alright?" he hissed. "Those bitches just do whatever the hell they want! Why would I look for someone I can’t even remember?! If she’s giving me enough money, I might have. But this woman you’re talking about is someone I don’t even remember!"
Lola rocked her head, keeping her mouth shut while the man screamed his innocence. Of course, he didn’t remember. After all, the woman Lola was talking about didn’t exist.
"If you really don’t know where she is..." she dawdled, her eyelids drooping. "Then, how are you able to afford this lavish lifestyle?"
Hudson’s breath hitched as his eyes went wide.
"Did you somehow sell her not for her services anymore?" She insinuated, each word weighing more meaning in her remarks. "You know what I’m talking about, right?"
He choked. "I didn’t—are you telling me I chopped her up and sold parts of her?! Are you kidding me?!"
"That’s not what I said."
"You—" he clenched his teeth, hissing at her as his frustration continued to grow. They had been circling the same conversation over and over. He was at the end of his wits on how to prove to this person that he did nothing of what she was saying.
Hudson huffed bitterly as he tried to calm himself down. "I found a gig, alright? A gig that set me up for life where I don’t need to deal with all the bullshit of those bitches and the filth of the streets!"
"Oh?" This time, Lola leaned forward. "A gig that set you up for life? I’m interested."
"Shit," he hissed, glaring at the person interrogating him. His head had been throbbing, and it was more painful now that he had been screaming for his innocence. The darkness wasn’t helping this interrogation either.
"Fuck this," he muttered, huffing sharply as he relaxed his chained body on the bed. "Someone asked me to do something."
He paused, trying to see if that would suffice. Obviously, it didn’t suffice because he had to confess more to prove his innocence—that this lavish lifestyle was not because he changed careers from being a pimp to being an organ trafficker.
"I was asked to get someone to get raped," he finally breathed out, his voice quieter than before. "That’s it."
That’s... it?
Hearing this, Lola’s shoulders stiffened. The large syringe she was playing with stopped as a lump instantly formed in her throat.
What?
"I’m a pimp, and I don’t only handle girls. There were a few guys I know, though they give different services," he continued. "The client wanted me to set someone up, so I arranged it."
Lola bit her inner bottom lip. "You hired guys to ruin someone?" she asked. "Or did you do it yourself?"
"Why would I do that?!" he shouted, only for his head to throb. "I don’t pimp myself, and even if I did, I wouldn’t get hard on that pig."
"..."
"I didn’t do it, okay?! I just hired some people to do the job—that’s it!"
The surroundings remained dark, but he could sense the growing frost around Lola. He gulped, feeling like this clarification wasn’t doing its job.
Meanwhile, Lola’s eyes darkened as her breathing felt slow and heavy. "How many?"
"What?"
"How many... touched her?" She whispered, almost unable to say such words. "And who were those men?"
This time, Hudson didn’t answer immediately. "Why would you even want to know that...?" he trailed off as she suddenly got up from her seat, grabbed his shoulder, and pushed him down hard.
"Who... are they?!"
Her voice sounded pitchy, yet Hudson couldn’t even focus on that misplaced voice. His eyes dilated as the grip on his shoulder tightened, his back almost feeling the frame of the bed.
His pale mouth opened and closed, feeling the tip of the syringe grazing the side of his neck. "They—they—they... they failed."
"Failed? Are you messing with me right now?" Lola reached for the syringe, starting to see red slowly. "Do you think I can’t kill you? Well, maybe if you get hurt a little, it’s going to feel real for you, right?"
As those words slipped out of her lips, she raised the syringe and swung it down without hesitation.
"They got the wrong girl!" He shut his eyes as he saw the glint on the end of the needle. "They got the wrong girl!"
A silent whimper escaped him, his entire body shaking intensely under her weight. Slowly, he felt something warm on his legs, peeing himself out of fear.
Meanwhile, Lola stared at the cowardly man trembling beneath her. The syringe in her hand was only an inch from his eye.
"They got the wrong girl," he whimpered once more. "She didn’t go to the right room, but someone else mistook it. Please, please, don’t kill me. I didn’t do it."
Lola blinked, the life in her eyes returning as she studied Hudson. "They... failed?" She muttered, and he nodded profusely. "Then, how come you’re getting paid?"
Hudson shuddered as he slowly opened his eyes, choking the moment he realized the needle was only an inch from him. His face contorted with fear and panic, his heart racing to the point of almost hyperventilating.
The gig was one thing, but the answer to this was entirely another. Because Hudson...
"Lied..." he blurted out, begging her with his eyes. "I lied to get paid, but I didn’t lie about the runaway you are looking for. Please don’t kill me. I really am innocent."