Summers' Purpose

Chapter 32 (part 1)

"Are you sure you have nothing to tell me?" She examined the large man in front of her, noting how he sat back in his chair, eyeing her up and down. There was a certain arrogance in how he carried himself.

"What did I tell you?" He sneered at her. "I got nothing."

"Must be a reason why you're cuffed to this table?" She mirrored his body language, leaning back slightly uncomfortably as she crossed one leg over the other, noticing the man's eyes following her movements.

"What can I tell you, I got zilch."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"You don't believe me, and I don't trust you. Fair and square. Plus, I'm no snitch. Unless... you know how to ask real nicely?" He leaned forward, smirking suggestively at her as his gaze traveled along her legs.

"So, you do know something." She watched as the man shrugged cockily back at her. "You see, that's where you got it all wrong. You think I need to make you trust me." The man raised an eyebrow, wondering what she meant. She reached out, eyes trained on his as she traced his fingers gingerly before resting her smaller hand on his. The man jumped at first at her touch, but smirked again as he looked down at their hands.

"I don't know where you're going with this, but I like it."

"Oh, give it a moment. You'll be begging me to let go." The man gave her a confused smile. She held his hand firmly in hers. The man tried to jerk his hand away, laughing nervously when it felt like it was glued in position. She didn't move her eyes from his, watching as he started to look annoyed.

She closed her eyes briefly before opening them and staring into his eyes once again. "You ready?" The man's confused expression went empty, his eyes cold as he looked at her. "I can leave you like this. Just a bag of meat, devoid of emotions. It won't take long before living gets boring. No anger, no sadness, no happiness. Nothing. You can't even afford to be cocky anymore, which, I must admit, makes this sound very tempting to do." She studied his face, his eyes vacantly looking back at her.

"Or... I can make you fear every little thing, regardless of how reasonable or irrational it is. Do you want to know how it feels to be afraid of breathing? It's a pretty suffocating emotion, pardon the pun." The man's deadpan expression contorted into one of horror, his eyes widening as his tears spilled. He looked around the room for help, finding no one else around. He accidentally gasped, which led to him trying to recoil away as he held his breath, his mind and his body battling to take control to survive.

"Must be uncomfortable, being afraid of what you need. You ready to cooperate?" The man nodded briskly, his eyes begging her as he didn't dare to speak, for fear that he felt the much-needed air rush into his lungs. She let his hand go and leaned back again. The man gasped for air, coughing while he doubled over to inhale as much air as he could. Y/n waited patiently for him to recover enough.

"Will you talk now? And you'll promise not to lie?"

"I promise. I'll talk." He coughed again before he looked at her. "Please. I'll tell you what I know."

.

Y/n exited the room, fanning herself with her hand while some agents went inside to uncuff the man before escorting him outside. He flinched when he realized Y/n was standing near the doorway, turning his eyes away from her as three burly guards took him away.

"Geez, what did you do to him?" Monica gave Y/n a napkin which she gratefully accepted to wipe the sheen off her forehead.

"You guys said you need him to talk."

"Yes, but we didn't mean 'traumatize' the man."

Y/n shook her head. "Sorry, I don't really have a scale to work with yet when it comes to this. It's either 'no' or 'go right ahead' with me. I'm still learning. Why didn't you get Wanda here anyway? She'd read him like a book with none of the discomfort. On both sides, mind you," she gestured to her still-sweaty forehead before she removed the vest she was wearing and handed it to Monica.