Chapter 70

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Pinch the head off, collapse me like a weed
Someone had to go this far
I was born into this, everything turns to shit
The boy that you loved is the man that you fear

Song: The Man You Fear, by Marilyn Manson

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TW: Violence.

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2020, February, 1st, Saturday | 11pm

Harry's P.O.V.:

Happy fucking birthday to me.

And welcome to hell.

The sound of bones breaking echoes in my room, but the scream that follows is muffled by the buzzing in my mind. I can't even focus on what I'm doing as my closed fist meets the beaten meat formerly known as this guy's face.

"Where is she?!" I hear myself screaming, which is pointless considering his eyes are rolling up inside his skull and his lips parting to hang low and motionless. "Motherfucker!" I hiss, letting go of his collar shirt.

The guy falls to the ground like a bag full of shit, the loud thud echoing in the white room, his blood seeming even redder under the hard, white lights from S&L's underground wings.

"B-Boss, I think..." Abel takes a step closer, forcing me to acknowledge his presence. "I think you should... Take a break."

"No, I'm fine, bring me the next one." I spit on the ground, turning on the heels of my shoes and going to the little metal table at the corner of the room.

My hands leave a trace of shiny, red blood as I grab the bottle of vodka from the table and bring it to my lips, and somewhere deep in my mind I feel like I should actually be surprised to not feel the pain that's probably irradiating from my bloody knuckles, but honestly I'm too fucking numb to care.

"Harry, really, you're... You need to take a break." Abel insists, nodding to the two guys he brought with him to carry the dead weight out of my sight once I'm done with it. "I'm wo--"

"I said I'm fucking fine!" I snap, my voice thundering and echoing in the white tiled walls. "Bring me the next."

Abel parts his lips to say something, but seems to think twice under my hard stare, choosing not to say anything and simply shrugging before leaving the room. Turning my attention back to the metal table, I run my fingers over the tools arranged over it, trying to decide which one I'm going to play with right now. I went fist-first with the last guy, but I'm coming to realize that I have way more self-control if I'm using an instrument, and I really don't want to kill this one before he actually spits some useful information.

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