Originally written: Saturday 30 July 2011
Leo woke, dazed and confused, with a throbbing headache and feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. He groaned and tried to roll over, a task that proved to be difficult in his hung-over state. Deciding that it was best to allow the spinning of his head to subside before he attempted to move again, he closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, failing to notice the blonde sitting in the chair across the opposite side of the room. She watched him intently.
The three extra hours that Leo slept allowed Angie to prepare things. She liked everything to be perfect, and while Leo Carr’s apartment was not the perfect place, at least her thoughts and tools were ordered. She would wait until he woke before she started work. There was plenty of time. Leo’s housemate wouldn’t return from Spain for another month.
* * * * *
‘Hey, what’s with the handcuffs?’ Leo asked her. ‘Didn’t think you were into that sort of thing. You told me you were a nice girl,’ he snickered at the thought of Angie being a nice girl after everything they’d done the previous night.
‘And you said you like to try different things. You said that you liked this sort of stuff, so I though you might be into something that I’m really good at.’
He pulled against the restraints, trying to regain some minute amount of control, but suddenly realised that his legs were also restrained. He laughed uncomfortably.
‘Ha ha, yeah, but this is taking it a bit too far, isn’t it?’
‘Not really, no,’ she replied quickly.
Angie reached over to the bedside table. Leo turned his head to see what she was reaching for. He saw the syringe, and confusion spread across his face.
‘What’s in that? What, ah, what are you going to do with that? I don’t like needles. At all.’
‘It’s not the needles you should be worried about, babe.’
The restraints meant that Leo was unable to move much. The best that he could do was flail around on the bed. It did little to prevent Angie from administering the sedative and muscle relaxant in the syringe. She was adept at this type of thing, having undertaken the task many times before she had met Leo.
‘Now, lil fella,’ as she spoke his eyes began to glaze over, ‘that was just a cocktail of drugs to, well, to paralyse you. You won’t be able to move a muscle, but you’ll be able to feel everything that I’m about to do. I’m just going to put this pillow under your head to prop you up. Wouldn’t want you to choke on your own tongue.’ She grabbed a handful of his hair, wrenched his head forward, shoved the pillow behind him, and dropped his head back down.
‘Okay, let me get my stuff a little closer and then we can begin. Ooooh, Leo Carr, I’ve been looking forward to doing this to you for a very long time. And let me just say that I’ve been practicing on a number of men before you, and I think I’ve perfected my technique.’
She’d dragged a small table closer to the bed as she spoke. It was of no consequence to Leo; he couldn’t turn his head to see what was laid out there.
‘Right, let’s get started, shall we?’
He heard a vaguely familiar sound, similar to that of the sound one heard when lighting a kitchen blowtorch.
Shit, he thought, a blowtorch. What the fuck does she need a blowtorch for? Too consumed with the question of the blowtorch, Leo didn’t hear the priming of the garden shears that Angie held in her right hand. He only felt immense pain ripping through his right hand. It was the unmistakable pain he associated with cutting himself in the kitchen, but far more intense. He tried to scream, but none of his muscles would work to push the sound out. The intense pain he associated with cutting was followed by a searing sound, further pain, and the smell of burning flesh.
With a bloodied hand, Angie turned Leo’s head so that he could see what she was doing. His instant reaction was to throw up, but the vomit had nowhere to go. He was unable to open his mouth.
‘Stupid boy,’ she said, ‘now I’ll have to get my hands dirty and open your mouth.’ She thought for a moment and laughed. ‘Hold on, Leo. I’ve got the solution.’
This time he could see what she was doing. The intense pain was once again followed by the searing sound, more pain, and the smell. He began to choke as his mouth again filled up with vomit. Angie dropped the garden shears on the bed next to her, picked up the two off-cuts and used them to pry open Leo’s mouth, releasing the putrid semi-liquid from his oral cavity. Tears streamed down his checks, and mixed with the pooling blood beneath his shoulders.
‘You’re wondering why, aren’t you, Leo?’ she whispered.
‘I’ll get straight to the point because I don’t want to waste anymore time. You’re rejection drove my sister to suicide. You picked her up at your douche-bag restaurant. You got her drunk. You brought her back here. Fucked her senseless, and kicked her ass to the kerb the next morning, as you so aptly put it. That was after you swore you’d call her.’
Angie could see the realisation dawning in Leo’s eyes, so she continued.
‘She waited for you to call. She went back to your restaurant and you humiliated her in front of your staff and your clientele. She ate a box of painkillers, and never woke up. I knew it was your fault. So I thought I’d teach you a lesson. Fun, isn’t it?’ She waved the off-cuts in front of his eyes, as if they were ceremonial flags.
‘I want you to suffer the same pain that Zara suffered, that my family has suffered. And you will suffer. If you pass out, I’ll wait until you’re conscious again. I’ve got plenty of my little drug mix here, so I can keep you immobilised for as long as this takes. And you’ll watch every second of it. By the time I’m done, my sister will be as unforgettable to you as she is to my family.’ She picked up the garden shears again, and took hold of the middle finger of Leo’s right hand.
‘Admittedly, the first two I did really quickly, but with the rest, I’m going to take them down, knuckle by knuckle, joint by joint, until you have nothing left on this hand. Then I’ll start on your left hand, and when that’s done, I’m going to do both of your feet.’
Leo, terrified by the prospect of the pain he was about to encounter also found himself humiliated by his own bladder. Angie snickered when she saw that Leo had urinated.
‘Poor, poor baby. And the blowtorch? Well, that’s out of your kitchen. Awesome little tool. Great for cauterising wounds, huh?’
Aligning the garden shears with the first knuckle of that middle finger, Angie applied pressure, severing the knuckle from the rest of the digit. She then applied the flame from the blowtorch to cauterise the wound site. Unable to stand the pain any longer, Leo lost consciousness.
‘Never mind, sweetie, I’ve got plenty of time to work on you.’ She tossed the end of the digit on the floor, carefully placed the garden shears on the small table with the rest of her tools, and switched off the kitchen blowtorch. She got off the bed and dragged the chair that she had previously been sitting in over to the side of the bed. Lowering herself into it, she wiped Leo’s blood from her own hands.
‘Plenty of time,’ she whispered, ‘plenty of time.’
. . . The end . . .