A rose to grind

-36-

"Don't worry, Yugo," he whispered. "I'll make it so you don't have to suffer any longer."

"If you're going to torture me, I'd rather you kill me," I tilted my chin off, fully displaying my adam's apple as though I trusted the lunatic with a pair of scissors in front of me. I pointed at a certain vein on one side of my neck with my index finger. "This is the most important vein. If you cut it here, it'll be bloody, but it's a quick death."

"Even after explaining you to you countless times, Yugo, do you honestly think I'm going to kill you and let you off that easily?" Jacklin's voice sounded near my ear this time. He tapped the tip of the blade on my finger and let it trail down like a sickening joke. The blade was cool when it was pressed against my neck. My breath hitched in fearful anticipation and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Suddenly, I felt a lock of hair drop onto my shoulders, then tumble down my torso. The feather-like sensations made my eye shoot open and I meet eye-to-eye with Jacklin whose face was closer to me than expected. His warm breath fanned against the tip of my nose and I looked down and saw that what I felt on my stomach were strands of black hair. My hair. Jacklin was cutting my hair.

"What the.. my hair!" My voice shot up in volume. But, I dared not struggle. I knew that if I were to even move an inch, those gleaming blades could cut into me, be it an accident or constructed.

"When you were young, you didn't have such long hair. Though it certainly makes you look handsome, I very much prefer you with a short hairstyle," his voice was smooth and dulcet like he was reciting a verse from a fairy-tale. The snipping of scissors against hair mingled with his voice. If I were to close my eyes, I'd even imagine I was having a conversation with my hairstylist.

"I also saw how you were struggling when Castelli grabbed a hold of your hair—" just as he said so, his fingers buried themselves in my scalp and pulled my hair down, making my chin thrust into the air. A sharp pain that couldn't be described into mere words shot from my scalp. I parted my lips, but no groans or moans of pain came out. Then, the tightness eased when Jacklin released the fistful of my hair.

His voice was a matter-of-fact tone. "Just like now. It's your weakness. And the Yugo I know held no such weaknesses. As your partner, it's up to me to make sure you're invincible."

"Fucking bastard," I laughed in irritation and wrath, which caused my voice to break halfway. "Anyone's hair will hurt if you pull at it hard enough."

"It won't hurt anymore, Yugo," his voice was similar to a pot of honey. A tantalizing slow reverb with a poisonous aftertaste. His fingers lifted up particular long strands, then snipped off an inappropriate chunk. I closed my eyes subconsciously and as my vision went dark, the only thing I could feel was the gentleness dripping from his fingertips when they dug into my scalp. The chilling sound of the blades rubbing each other seemed much louder than the heartbeat ringing in my ears.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jacklin's fingers left my scalp. I peeled my eyes open and he thrust a mirror into my face. A weary mien peered right back at me. I parted my lips, unable to decipher whether the image that was reflected within the mirror was me or not. It couldn't be. The person in front of me looked so defeated. It couldn't possibly be me.

A part of the cheek of the man in the mirror was a purple-brown stain. When I lifted my fingers, the figure seemed to do the same. And I palpated the evident wound on my face, winching when pain responded.