How to Kill a Man in Thirty Seconds

Chapter 72: A Little Game- Part 1

The double meaning to his words did not escape me.

It was all I could do was return his withering stare, eyes burning with horror and fury.

Colton Hunt suddenly giggled, "Let's pick up the tempo now, shall we? Let's play a little game, Charley."

My heart squeezed. My hands were fumbling around behind me in the dark, unbeknownst to Colton. I was trying to undo the knots, but they were tight, my movements restricted. I needed a knife, which I did not have.

"You guessed right about most of it, Charley dear," Colton was saying, "But you were gravely wrong about some of it." He chuckled, almost bouncing with joy, "In this game, I'm going to tell you one thing you believe to be true about the murder. If you're right, I do nothing. But if you're wrong," he leaned forward suddenly till his face was inches from mine, his lips mere millimeters from my ear; I felt his hot breath caking my skin, deep and ragged, almost animalistic.

It made fear surge inside of me and an involuntary whimper escaped my throat.

It made his smile widen.

"If you're wrong, sweetheart, I'm going to lovingly bash you with this club. And when you can't take it anymore, when you start begging me to let you die just like your dog father did, I'm going to strip you of your clothes and rape you, just like I did my son all those years ago."

I went rigid. Completely froze up.

The world slowed down around me. A moment and more passed before they finally sank in. Suddenly, panic consumed me and I was struggling, fighting, about to combust with horror and dread.

He meant it.

He meant it with every cell of his being. If not for his repulsive devious pleasure, he would do it for the pain it would cause me.

"Belief number one," Colton announced with excitement. He was circling around me, the hefty club dragging behind him, a dull screech sounding as it trailed slowly, horrifyingly slow on the concrete, "My brother was partly responsible for your father's death."

Colton had halted right before me and his gaze was holding mine, cold and emotionless. My heart was in my throat, beating with unnatural speed, fear pounding in my veins.

He lifted the club, and bludgeoned me with it. Unendurable pain shot through me, a scream escaping my lips.

"That," he said with a smirk, "was for getting it wrong."

"This," he murmured, leaning forward to whisper coldly in my ear, fury lacing his words, "Is for all the shit you put Morgan through all these years."

He then struck me with menacing strength, over and over again. He didn't miss a beat or spare me a moment to breathe. My body screamed in agony with each bash, as I struggled in vain to escape, to defend myself. My muscles were aching, my bones threatening to give way. I was going to die.

When Colton finally retracted his bat, its end was smothered in crimson blood.

"When you burnt up that shed next to his house four years ago," the man spat, "Do you know much it upset him? When you packed up your bags and disappeared, without telling him, do you know how hurt he was?"

Colton grabbed me by the shirt, yanking me up to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with hatred- all-consuming fury- and unforgiveness. Confusion filled me at the sudden outburst, along with fear as I saw the raw emotion that filled his gaunt face.

"It was hard enough for Morgan, to have you hide from him for three whole years. He was struggling to forgive himself; you should have stayed missing. But you, Charley fucking Green, you decided to return."

Colton's teeth grinded together, his grip on my collar tightening with unrestrained fury; the action choked me and my mouth opened on its own, deep, guttural noises escaping my lips- like that of a rabid dog- as I struggled to breathe.

"But of course," the man spat, "You only returned to interrogate him and search him, to prove he was the murderer. It drove him crazy; did you know that? You brought back all the memories he'd been dying, for decades to forget."

Suddenly, his hands had latched onto my neck. My heart leapt in my chest as his bony fingers wrapped around it like a vice, tight and unforgiving. His eyes were on me and something was burning inside of them, mingling with the madness that festered there.

"You little whore," Colton Hunt murmured, "If I'd had it my way, you'd have been dead the day you were born."

When he finally released his hold on me, it was all I could to just lie there, a motionless heap, just sucking in air with every bit of strength that remained. My brain was swimming, beginning to lack coherent thought and my vision was hazy, black spots dancing around me.

My entire body was screaming in agony, my leg that had been bashed beneath the weight of his club, lying swollen and bloody with the rest of me. Tears of pain pricked my eyes. I didn't know what to do. He was going to kill me sooner or later.

Colton drew to his feet; the bastard was panting as if he'd just ridden a roller coaster.

"Belief number two," he announced with exhilaration.

The air rushed out of me.

"Your father and my wife were fucking each other years before he died," Colton announced.

A moment passed before he picked up his club, raising it well above his head. My eyes, weary as they were, widened. Horror filled me, along with trepidation and dread. But hope rose above it all, drowning all else until the fear was seemingly nonexistent.

So that wasn't true? He hadn't cheated?

Colton's empty blue eyes met mine; he was gouging my reaction, drinking in my joy like it was the finest wine. He lowered the weapon slowly to the floor.

A laugh escaped the bastard's lips.

"What a pity," he cried hysterically, "My belief is that they were fucking long before you were even born."

Hate surged up inside of me, but I had no power or energy to act on it.

"Believe number three," he announced, "Julia was responsible for the poison."

He grinned mockingly, "You were right about that one too, Charly dear. Poor Adrian. That's what he gets for sucking up to a whore like his mother." His gaze shot to me and his head cocked to the side, "How does it make you feel, sweetheart? Your lover's mother fucked your father. Then, your lover's mother killed your father." A chortle escaped his lips, "Talk about star-crossed lovers."