Revenge Is Best Served..

Not Afraid

I sat there watching him as he talked. I was supposed to be afraid of him. Why shouldn't I be? Why wasn't I? He was telling me all the terrible things he did to those men and I wanted to know. I wanted to hear all the horrible, gruesome details of it all. What the hell was wrong with me?

"Sam?" He sounded unsure of something.

"Yeah?"

"You want me to keep going?"

"Yes."

"You sure?" He asked again, still holding on to my hand. When had that happened?

"I'm sure." He was afraid he would scare me but I wasn't. I wanted to hear of the pain and suffering he brought to those sorry excuses for human beings.

He looked back at the tv as if all the memories were on the screen. "The first one got it the easiest,"  he continued after a while," and the fastest because I made my new underling do it. It was meant to be a bullet to the head," he said holding up his fingers, forming a gun and pretending to fire, "but he was so scared that he missed and shot him in the heart instead. It had the same effect I guess."

There was no longer any emotion at all in his voice. No remorse, sadness, anger or even satisfaction. He had only wanted revenge and he had gotten it. That was all.

"Then there were three. Three wide-eyed, starved and dehydrated, filth left in front of me and I could not wait to put an end to them."

He downed the rest of the drink then got up and started pacing slowly. If I wasn't somewhat intoxicated I would have been intimidated by his presence.

"They were no longer screaming at this point but the fear of knowing death was coming was washing over them in waves and silent cries racked their bodies as the tears ran.
Greg was crying too. His hands trembled but his grip tightened on the gun as he turned to me.
Hope began to blossom in the other's eyes but that was short-lived.

"Kill me and you die, it's that simple Gregory. You wouldn't want to ruin the deal we made by dying, now would you?" He told me recalling his words.

I couldn't help but watch the barbarian as he stuck his hands inside the pockets of his black jeans and leaned on the archway that led out of the mini theatre. His beard was starting to grow back and his hair seemed a bit higher. His lips and eyes were red from drinking but he was still quite sober.
He briefly looked at me then started again.

Wait, did he just blush because he caught me staring at him? Well, well.

"He nodded frantically and dropped the gun. The others started sobbing once more as they realized that there really was no saving them. Their hope finally abandoned.
At the time I relished the feeling I got from watching them and knowing that they wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else."

"And now?" I asked sitting at the edge of my seat," what do you feel now?"

"Nothing. I felt guilty for a few months after but as time passed it faded."

"Three remained," I reminded him. "Who was next?"

He chuckled lightly. "The next was my experiment. I didn't really want to torture anyone but I didn't wish it to end as quickly either.
I always wondered how sharp a barber's razor was, you know, like the one you see in Sweeney Todd.

"The first cut was across his face, a very small one. What amazed me was that I barely touched him.
Next, I ran it from his shoulder down to his middle finger and even I was shocked at the depth of the wound with what little pressure I applied.
Slowly the blood forced it's the way to the surface and began to flow."