i do not support ella in any way. this book is a comfort book for a lot of people and some people haven't finished yet.
"A killer who is afraid of guns and another who is afraid of the dark, huh? Quite the team."
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Cleo knows wha...
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Blood.
The metallic scent was heavy and festering, probably stuck in my nostrils forever, even though I assumed I'd be used to it by now.
It still made me sick sometimes... it smelled like rusty iron and the air just became so fucking thick and hard to breathe. And if I tried to breathe through my mouth, I could swear I could taste it, which was worse.
The mess was always hard to clean as well, and maybe I shouldn't have picked my favorite boots or a white shirt tonight, but I wasn't planning on being here... well, life was a little box of surprises and what was supposed to be a peaceful night of sleep, ended up with me in this small room.
I was very familiar with this part of the establishment though, I was the one who spent the most time here. Mostly because I was always picked to handle the torturing.
The annoyance I was feeling tonight was unusual, but I blame this disgusting excuse of a man sitting on the metal chair right in front of me. His wrists and ankles were chained and he couldn't move at all, despite his useless attempts.
The rattle of the chains was echoing around us, these four concrete walls weren't too high and the room wasn't spacious. It also didn't have any windows, that's probably why the smell was always sickening.
This was indeed a torture room, I doubted it got cleaned properly because I was sure it was hard to scrub off the blood from the porous concrete floor. What used to be dark grey was now a deep maroon color, and the bright white lighting made it easier for me to see the stains from previous occasions I was in this very room.
"You know, this was supposed to be entertaining." I took a deep breath, wondering if my mother would be too upset if I simply slit his throat and claimed that he refused to talk.
She'd know I was lying, I was too good at this and I didn't give up quickly. I needed information... a name or a phone number, and then I could kill him. "You crazy bitch!" The crybaby shouted, trying to get free again, but his brain was probably as small as his dick because he still hadn't realized he wasn't going anywhere.
I was called last minute by my mom so I could talk to Aaron over here, because apparently, he knew the name of the person who decided to fuck us over and kill one of the girls who worked at the strip club my mother owned. We were actually in the club right this moment, however, this was a special room only VIP people like me could get into.
But don't even ask me about it, I knew shit about business or how my mother and my brother kept this rolling, I was a more hands-on kind of girl... they needed my services and they called me, I didn't ask any questions and I simply did my job. It'd been like that for six years now.
Torture wasn't often on the list though, this was why I was supposed to be excited for tonight. I usually got a name and an address, and I killed who I was assigned to so I could get the money after, it was quick and I didn't care about any other details.
But I wasn't in the mood tonight and my week had been a shit show.
