Complicated! ~ rewriting

IV

4
The Prisoner

Dabria

It'd been a few days since I woke up after being shot and the pain was gradually decreasing. The doctor had warned that it could be weeks before it was completely healed. In the time that had passed, I barely left my room. Damon and Jasper had notified me on all important matters, like how they managed to locate one of the guards and now had him locked in one of our rooms; my brothers had been to visit and insisted I come back home so they could help but I managed to convince them this was where I was supposed to be. My father had called and briefly mentioned plans for the upcoming weeks and how he expects us all to return to Italy fully before the Romano ball so in about a week to give 3 days in Italy to settle before the event.

Now was the time to get everything ready for our departure, I left my room to check Florentino's room and whether it was vacant. But I get distracted by a massive crash 2 doors down from mine.

One of my men, Joseph, was trying to get information out of the guard that Damon and Jasper had managed to locate but had foolishly left the door wide open. The guard was sat on a old, wooden chair located in the centre of the dim room. The only source of light coming from a broken, rusty singular lightbulb, which hung from the ceiling swaying from side to side flickering as it does so. It was similar to our medical rooms apart from they are much cleaner and lighter, this particular room had remaining blood stains imprinted on the stone concrete from previous interactions.

The prisoner's nose is dripping with blood and the cuts around the rest of his face are paired with matching bruises. His eyes are barely able to open and he is showing no signs of speaking. My guy keeps hounding him with questions to which the guard simply turns up a lip, moving his head away slightly already accepting the next punch.

Joseph turns on his heels when I clear my throat, "Did you need something boss?" I look between the both of them, "He said anything yet?" Joseph simply shakes his head.

"Not yet."

"Let me give it a shot." I sigh as I walk closer to the guy currently tied up in metal chains. Joe looks at me more intently, surrendering and handing me the control. "Tell the guy in room 4 that I need to speak to him but am currently caught up with something."

"Yes boss." He replies before scurrying out the room and down the corridor, leaving the door open again. I pick up the file placed on a table in the corner of the room, flipping through and giving the guy a second to regather his breath. I thought given the state of the guy that he wouldn't be able to even open his mouth. To my surprise he does, "Hello Gorgeous." He utters still catching his breath. I look up from the files examining him closely. "You like what you see?" He coughs.

"Do I like seeing people who hurt my family suffer for it? Yes." I smirk, he looks directly at me with one swollen eye and the other coated in blood. His cocky smirk fails and I take this as an opportunity. "Marcelo, what did Santos want with those girls, besides the trafficking?" Silence. "Answer me this then, do you have kids?" His eyes quickly shoot to the floor. I return to the table picking up the knife, noticing a shadow hovering near the other side of the door.

I return next to him, crouching at his side with a vicious grip of my dagger. Stroking the knife down past his ear and across his neck lightly I whisper, "Imagine if one of those girls were your daughter. If your precious Stephanie was taken. Stuck in a container for hours and then passed around desperate, horny and cruel men looking for pleasure in any form they want. Every night she sits there screaming for someone to save her, wondering where her dad is. Just sitting there helplessly being passed around like a parcel each touch making her relive hundreds of horrific memories she's had to endure, wondering where her dad was. Only to find out he was behind it all. Because you wanted what? Money? Power? Pleasure?" His fists tighten and I can sense his anger building. "How would that make you feel?"

"Stop!" He yells, I pull my knife a way staring at how worked up he's getting, I keep pressing him on this matter. 

Crouching in front of him, "Would that make you feel like a proud dad?" His eyes slam shut, knuckles turning white. "Would it? Knowing you had the ability to do something about it." I continue to poke. "Stop." He whispers trying to push all those thoughts out of his mind.

"What did he want with them? Why so many?"

"I don't know." He breathes opening his eyes and staring right at me. "I don't know. I had no part of it."

"Oh but you did Marcelo. Maybe this might loosen up your memories." I grab the computer opening it up and displaying a video of Stephanie walking out of her house with her mother and into their car. "She's 15, isn't she? The same age as all the girls you've taken." He shakes his head. "Do you think if we sent Santos a video of her he may want her as his next victim? Would you still be so willing to follow his commands then?"

"You wouldn't dare." He spits right in the gap between us, "Why don't you watch me do it then?" I click the share button underneath the video entering in Santos' number. Marcelo examines my every movement. "Okay. I'll talk, just don't send that video." I move the computer away. "Talk."

"I did it for my family, for my daughter."

"Bullshit." I raise the knife to his throat, "It was for yourself. Your own pleasure. The money he was giving you. The power it gave you. None of it was for your daughter. You and those other men brutally tore those kids from their homes, raped and tortured them before deciding you were bored of them, tossing them back into the world. Bruised, broken and beaten. Admit it!" I could feel my own anger building up, none of them deserved what they had been through. And I was going to be damn sure that no one else was put through that shit by those sick and twisted monsters.

"NO!" He yells again. "I would never d- I never did th-" I sigh looking straight at his broken face. As I pull my dagger away I notice he had begun to cry.

"But you didn't have to, did you? You never raped them but you were there whilst others were, watching." Tears were streaming down his face faster from his frustration. "They were the same fucking age as Stephanie and although you didn't touch them, you wanted to. How would she feel about this? Would she still be so willing to call you her father? Would your wife Grace ever allow you around your daughter again? The same fucking age." His head falls with disappointment and a sob slips through his lips.

"I didn't know it was going to happen like that." His Italian accent seemed thicker now, "You have to believe me, I never would've gone along if I knew it was going to be like that." For a moment he seems genuine, "But you never left." He sighs as his eyes fall to the floor before returning to mine. "You don't get it. Once you start, he won't let you leave. He finds leverage to hold you there like a prisoner. He told us to pick a shipment up and transport it but by the time I realised what was happening it was too late. I couldnt stop him." He chokes out. "I tried but it was no use."

"The big shipment coming in, that's more girls?" He nods and I pick up my phone messaging Ramirez and Pierce to let them know. A phone goes off behind me, turning I see Florentino and Ramirez standing there staring. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Damon chuckles and I shrug my shoulders. He shakes his head releasing another chuckle.

"Take Florentino back to his room and then go back to bed. I'll finish up with this guy, you need your rest." I sigh kneeling down in front of Marcelo one last time picking my dagger up from the floor.

"I'll do you one favour, I won't tell your daughter about of much of a sick bastard her father was." I whisper, watching how his eyes fill with a mixture of fear and relief before I slide the knife carefully across his neck, allowing the blood to ooze out. "All yours," I say to Ramirez handing him the blood coated knife.

End of Chapter
Word Count: 1516