(ASA)SSIN

CHAPTER THREE

"Now, I have some questions to ask you. If you cooperate, I'm open to the idea of negotiating terms." I said walking into the stall, the door hanging loosely by a single rusted hinge.

Varga sprawled across the tiled floor, cradling the side of his head. He must have smacked it quite hard on the toilet basin when he fell down, as small droplets of blood appeared on most surfaces of the stall, the toilet, and the floor. It didn't help that he himself was subconsciously smearing his bloodstained hand everywhere, making the place look like a scene from a low budget horror movie.

For fucks sake!

This was not how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a clean job, in and out, no mess and certainly no blood. Why couldn't anything ever go to plan?

"Negotiate what terms?" He asked, using the seat of the grimy toilet to push himself to standing and clumsily stumbling from side to side of the stall.

The alcohol and drugs in his system along with the knock to his head must have severely impaired his ability to coordinate, beyond what I was expecting. But my compulsive need for answers was clouding any compassionate thoughts for his wellbeing, not that he deserved any sympathy anyway but, interrogating him would be virtually impossible if he wasn't coherent.

"We can negotiate the method in which I will kill you."

With tears in his eyes, he wickedly laughed. His constant underestimation of my abilities and the incessant need to try to belittle and weaken my efforts was fuelling a burning rage inside me. I was in no way a patient person, and he was pushing my buttons far beyond their limits. If he wasn't careful, I knew ways to agonisingly prolong his inevitable demise.

"You don't think I won't do it?" I asked, leaning nonchalantly against the cubical frame. If he saw even the minutest evidence that he was getting under my skin, he would exploit it.

Taking shaky steps forward until he was face to face with me, his warm breath scolded my lips as he spoke. "I could crush every single bone in your body to dust quicker than you could attempt to kill me, little girl."

My admiration for Christopher had dramatically increased. How did he remain so calm when being so directly belittled? I was struggling. Really struggling.

Squashing down the rising fury that was ready to be unleashed, I focused on what was important here, finding out how he knew Lena. I was confident that he didn't know her personally but, it still troubled me that he knew her name. Her real name. She never used it. For as long as I could remember she was Lena. Just Lena. Nothing more, nothing less.

Attempting to rudely barge past me, I roughly grabbed Varga's shirt and threw him back. His calves collided with the toilet and he fell into a seated position. I hadn't even started yet.

"Let me ask you a question? How do you know my sister? Marlena?" Truthfully, I had my suspicions but, until they were clearly confirmed I couldn't rashly act upon them.

After his raucous performance this evening, I wasn't accustomed to his silence. Had the circumstances not been so important, I would have appreciated the lack of rowdy noise but, the answers to my questions held the key to unlocking the nightmares that had consumed me for the past ten years. And this infuriatingly insolent man needed to speak quickly before I really lost my temper. Instead, he returned to his full height, flashing me a Cheshire grin like he had won the lottery, and cruelly taunted me with the knowledge he knew I desired.

Consciously, I became aware of the time realising someone would need to use the toilets soon and once they noticed it was locked, staff would suspiciously flock to the scene and undoubtedly catch me red-handed in the midst of an unquestionable act. Hurrying this exchange was vital, if he wasn't willingly going to talk then I would just have to make him.