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"How you feeling, sugar?" Alonzo asked as he ripped the tape off Javier's mouth, lightly stepping back just in time to avoid spit on his shoes. Lucky for him, and for his prisoner too - the retaliatory kick would have been to the balls, and he was wearing his pointiest boots.
"Fuck you, faggot."
"Not so well, I gather." Alonzo turned to the table where he'd laid out the tools, humming to himself. "Know why you're here?"
"You let me outta here or you're gonna fucking wish you had."
"Oooh, scary." He selected a scalpel, held it up to the light. "Don't got a lot of room to be making threats, though, do you?"
Javier just growled, struggled uselessly against his restraints for the hundredth time. Tape, rope, chains, handcuffs - the works.
Why the hell do you buy all this shit? Angelo had asked him once, kicking one of the latex-clad mannequins in his private dungeon. This just your version of the train set my dad had in the garage?
Very funny, Angie, Alonzo had replied, mentally categorizing Angelo as "uncultured" and "rude" and "no longer invited to his birthday party." You never know what you might need.
"A little birdie told me you like to cut up women," Alonzo continued, and Javier scoffed.
"Enrique's full of shit, man."
"Oh, no, not Enrique - been awhile since we spoke." He strolled back over to the chair. "You spit, you lose a tongue this time," he warned as he leaned over, letting Javier get a good look at the blade in his hand. Javier pressed his lips together, nodded tightly.
"It was Annette."
"I told her not to talk to you no more," Javier mumbled.
"So! You! Did!" Alonzo agreed. "And you know what, baby" - pressing the scalpel to Javier's right cheek - "that made me very sad."
He sliced, quick and deep. Javier screamed.
"Started screening my calls one day. Couple months later she was dead." He sliced again, across Javier's nose, down to the jawline. "Never got to say goodbye."
"That wasn't my fault!" Javier babbled. "I didn't kill her. It was a fucking bus crash, man. I swear."
"We know that." Another slice, opening up the half-healed wound on Javier's left side. "We don't care."
The pathetic wailing quieted then, Javier staring at him with eyes that mirrored his own. "We...?" he asked, his gaze moving past Alonzo, who smiled faintly as he began freeing Javier's right arm.
"Good news is, you ain't crazy after all. Bad news is, this is curtains." Alonzo removed the last of the tape, flipped the arm over. "Any last words?"
After a moment, Javier looked back at Alonzo. "Fuck you," he said. "Fuck you both."
Alonzo shrugged and made the final cut, a long deep line down Javier's arm, his gloves soaked red in seconds.
He turned to Annette then, who nodded at him before disappearing - her instructions complete.
"Goodbye," Alonzo said softly, blowing a kiss - the stench of blood hanging thick in the air.