The Nerd

Loosen the Restraints

I gather up all the saliva I can muster and spit, splattering it all over Patricia's face.

Her face turns red with anger, and her whole body shakes with rage, as she wipes the spit off her face.

"That's it, I'm done playing games, tongue it is." She says, picking up another tool.

"Wait!" Cash yells, from the corner of the room.

Patricia stops, giving me a cold glare, slowly turning towards Cash, "What?" She spits, harshly.

Cash stands there for a few seconds, glancing at the ground and back to Patricia.

"D-don't you think it would be more useful to make her suffer with worse torture?" He questions.

I give him a puzzled wide-eyed look as if he just suggested we let out all the crazy's  in an insane asylum.

Patricia furrows her eyebrows, waving the metal tong-looking clamps in my face, still facing Cash, "As if cutting her tongue out isn't worse torture?"

He scratches the back of his neck nervously, "Yeah, but then, how will you hear her cries of pain? I mean that is what you relish in. Can't do that if her tongues gone." He says, with a look of pride as if he just won the gold medal in the olympics.

Patricia stays quiet for what feels like forever.

She turns towards me, giving me a sour look, setting the tongs on the medal tray.

"Alright, well then, your next to task is to wet a rag and grab a bucket of water, we're about to have a little fun." She says, with a mischievous grin, before turning out walking out the door.

I turn to Cash, whose still standing in the corner.

"Brilliant idea genius." I say, sarcastically.

He shrugs, looking a little taken aback, "Would rather her cut your tongue out? Incase you haven't noticed I'm trying to buy you a little time." He says, walking towards the sink.

I nod my head, resting it down against the metal table I'm currently strapped to, starring up into the lights above me.

Oh boy.

Clayton's POV

I slowly push open the door leading to the back of the abandoned strip club.

"Remember, you knock whoever out first instead of shooting, till we find Samantha." I state, ushering the guys in.

They follow in suite quietly, as we tip toe down the lightly dimmed hallway.

I hear voices come from around the corner and quickly gesture for the guys to stop, we clutch our guns to our hips as we press our backs to the wall.

A tall blonde-shaggy haired boy rounds the corner in front of us, with a bigger set man with dark hair.

Quickly, Declan jumps in front of the dark haired man, punching him in the neck, grabbing him by his wrist, twisting his arm and shoving him to the ground before hitting him in the temple with the end of his gun, knocking him out cold.

I swiftly pull my fist back, as the blonde boy stares wide-eyed at me, letting it make contact with his nose, watching him fall to the ground in a painful slumber.

"Ah man," Declan grumbles, "his big head scruffed the paint." He says, rubbing the end of his gun.

I shake my head, and gesture for us to proceed on.

Timothy gives a nod of approval as we step over the unconscious body's and continue down the long hall.

Samantha's POV