Daisy has been a stripper all of her life against her wishes. With an annoyingly genius brother to take care of, she is ready to do whatever it takes to give him the life he deserves and he wants the same for her. He goes to the point of credit card...
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WOO-JIN
He pissed his pants.
I just ripped off four nails from his right hand and three from his left foot with a letter knife I found in his drawer. I pocket Daisy's necklace and keep it safe in the zip pocket of my jacket.
I had him tied to a chair with the ropes I found in the drawer too. Turns out, he has a bondage kink, and he does look very pretty in red ropes. I gently hold his hand, and slide the tip of the knife under his nail, "That's a pretty nail. I want it." I flick and it's off. He screams a curse, "Fuck! I don't know what you want!" He cries, "I just do my job, man. That's it, okay?" Blood doesn't ooze but the bruise is what hurts the most. I twist my lips and sigh, "I know, Timmy, but I don't like the fact you raised a hand on my wife. I'm not letting you survive this. My plans are literally to kill you." I look at the knife and wipe the blood on the blade with my black jeans, "I'm just too angry that I know killing you won't calm it down. So I'm taking my time. I think I'm thirty percent calmed down."
I take off another nail and he yells, "Motherfucker! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, stop this." I sigh, "Thirty-two, now." I stretch with a yawn, boredom speeding to my bones, "Now, tell me, who was it with the bombing?" I point the knife, "Was it you? Did you place the bomb in her car?" He shakes his head, crying hysterically, "I swear I don't know!"
"Man up, Timmy. No woman likes a crying man."
"I'm sorry I attacked her, okay? If you let me go, I promise I'll find out where is it he lives."
"Oh, I can find that out too. Offer me something better."
I walk closer and yank his ponytail back, pointing the tip of the blade at his right eye, "Go on. Negotiate." Panic takes over him, and tears fall rapidly down his cheek, "I-I can p-promise that I c-can do your work." I loosened try grip and let him have the facade that I did it because the negotiation was worth it. It wasn't. That's how you play.
You make them scared, then make them feel safe. Let them know you're trusting them, and then you break it all. Hearts are a funny thing. Emotions are a hysterical thing. The more you play with them, the more addicting the game gets. It's been a long damn time since I've let this side of mine shine when I've been nothing but a lazy man for ten years.
It brings back memories of dark times. Happy dark times.
"I can find out where he lives! Just give me five days!" He panics now. I looked down at the blade in my hand, noticing that it wasn't a traditional mail opener. The blade was too sharp for it. Smart man. "You won't find him because he does not want to be found." I stepped closer, leaned, and met his eyes, "He'll come and find me when he wants to talk... with guns." Then I pushed the knife three times in his stomach, giving him no time to yell until I took out the knife the third time. He cries and blood splutters out of his mouth right to my shirt.
