Death Wish

Chapter 21: She's The Best Thing I Have

When I wake up, all I see is black. There is no indication as to where I am or what time it is. I smell blood and feel a trickling down my face. My mouth is gagged, my hands and legs tied to a chair, and I can feel a blindfold around my head. I mentally curse as I feel for my dagger and remember I didn't bring my jacket with it. I don't know who took me, but I have an inkling it's Thibault.

"Looking for your dagger, brat?"

Suspicions confirmed. My blindfold is ripped off and it's blindingly bright. I squint my eyes and when they adjust I see an extremely disheveled Thibault. A couple months in prison have not done him good, but then again it is prison. His hair sticks out in all directions, his eyes are puffy and bloodshot, and there are scrapes and bruises all over his body.

"Look at me! You did this to me!" Thibault yells as he points to himself.

I look around and see where I used to live. The apartment building. I glare at him and he just smiles.

"You are going to hand over your inheritance or I will destroy the one thing most precious to you. Lorenzo."

I don't show any response externally, but on the inside, I'm screaming. I know how he works. He spouts out names to see a response. The one with the largest protests is the one he can use as leverage. I can't show I care about Lorenzo or else it could jeopardize him and his family. When Thibault finds out that I don't care for Lorenzo as much as it showed, he growls and slaps me hard across the cheek.

"Fine, since you don't care so much about Lorenzo, let's see how you respond to torture."

He punches me repeatedly in the gut and grabs my hand. With a dagger, he slices a straight line from the base of my middle finger to my wrist. He smiles maliciously as I scream and bite down on the gag.

He rips away my gag and asks, "Ready to give up your inheritance?"

I spit away blood and say in a hoarse voice, "Never."

He grabs alcohol and pours it in my wound. I almost scream but bite it back. Barely. Thibault walks behind me and lifts my hair from my neck. I gulp and wait for the worst.

"Such pretty skin holding in multiple liters of blood. One swipe and all that blood would come rushing out, spilling over the floor, flooding the place. You would choke on your blood and eventually give up as your body gives into the pain I am about to reward you with. See, I can't kill you. I need your inheritance but only you can access it. I have been so patient. Waiting for over a year as you wallowed in self pity, crying like a baby. I would stab a dagger through your heart right now. But I can't. I have been waiting for them to come for you, but they haven't. They don't know you're alive. Which is good. I need them to think you're dead."

"Who?" I ask.

"No talking!" Thibault thunders.

Now that I know he can't kill me because of the inheritance, I can push any of his buttons. And if he loses it and kills me, then it's a win-win situation.

"Why not? Talking is a form of communication. People even do it in their sleep although they aren't aware of it. Did you know sleep talking is also called somniloquy? And that it mostly occurs in men and children? There are also many factors to sleep talking. Like stress, alcohol, dr-"