"That is not enough!"
"But that's all I have!"
A cold hand closed in a blink of an eye around the fat man's throat. An even colder voice whispered:
"We both know I don't live off gold, you swine!" the tone was flat, without emotion. Dead.
"Did you really think money would redeem you? Nothing can. Not for me!"
"Please! Please!" the man squealed, "Don't! Please! Have mercy!"
The bony hand pressed ever harder against the floppy pink flesh.
"Mercy... Did you have mercy when those children begged for it? Did you?" the previously blank tone turned into rage, bursting forward like venom.
Drooling saliva mixed with uncontrollable sobs was the sole answer.
"No, of course not! Instead of mercy, you fucked them like pigs until they could barely move!"
"I didn't mean to! I-I couldn't help myself, pl-please! I am sorry!"
A bitter laugh cut through the heavy stench of the basement: "I am not. I don't care for the brats."
The sobbing came abruptly to an end.
"Why are you here then?"
"To grant thee mercy!"
She slit his throat.
YOU ARE READING
Tortured's Tale
FantasyShe was addicted to a special substance. After all, she was more than special herself. Outstanding like a light in the darkness. Or a darkness in the light...
