His Name Is Mugen

It's a Secret

I rewrote this so many times but I hate it still. Nonetheless, this story needs to continue progressing and our girl needs to make her escape. So, with out further adieu....

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After hours of water boarding me for pleasure, Tyson finally wiped his drenched hands with a hand towel and called it a day. He cooly strode out of the warehouse house, leaving me hanging from the ceiling. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. I just really wanted it to end.

I don't know how much time passed before someone walked in with a bottle of alcohol and two shot glasses in his hands. He easily slid the door shut with his foot and approached me with a look of satisfaction on his face. I instantly recognized him as one of the men who dragged me to the white van.

He was tall and slightly hefty. A long scar ran from his left eye to his cheek. He was slightly graying but from his build I knew he could still put up the best fight. He had a look of pure irritation permanently addressed on his face no matter how much he smiled.

He was so ugly.

"Sarasi." He took in my unfortunate situation. "What's hanging?" He displayed rows of cracked and decaying teeth. The funk of his breath offended my nostrils and angered my eyes. I didn't bother to waste energy by glaring at him. Tyson probably sent him. After he was done harassing me, he always sent someone else to clean up his dirty work.

The man pulled out a pocket knife and cut me down from the rope. I fell roughly into his hands but quickly pulled back and dropped to the floor. I squirmed away as far as my aching body would allow. I didn't want his filthy hands touching me. He didn't deserve to.

He followed me in amusement. He stopped directly over top of me. "Why so shy? I thought we could hang out and get to know each other. Maybe braid each other's hair if that's alright with you."

"It's not." I snapped.

"You don't have a choice." He leaned down and cut me free from the rope. The way we were positioned, I could easily kick him in the face.

Should I try and then run for the door.

He looked down at me with indifference. Probably anticipating my next move.

I probably shouldn't since I wouldn't be able to make it a few centimeters pass him.

I rubbed my sore wrist. "No restraint? Are you sure that's a positive idea?"

He stood up and held his hand out for me to take. "Tell me sweet cheeks, do you honestly think you'll be able to get by me?" His voice was coarse and unwelcoming. He cleared his throat and hog spat to the left.

"No." I cringed, backing away even though it wasn't near me.

"Exactly. You and I have nothing to fear so long as you don't try anything you know won't work." He led me to where his bottle and cups were waiting.

"Won't Tyson be mad?" I sat down. It was no use going against him. It was a fight I already lost.

"Tyson will be fine." He pick up the bottle and one of the cups. "You drink hennessey?"

"I don't drink at all." My nose scrunched up in distress. I didn't like the way alcohol smelled.

"Well there's a first time for everything and we're getting to know each other and the best way to do that is to get drunk. Drunk people tell all. No ifs buts about it." He handed the cup to me and pour himself one.

I stared down at the contents hesitantly.

"Relax. If it's poison in there then it's also poison in mine."