The love that he held for her.
They could beat him.
They could torture him.
And eventually they would kill him.
But they would never take that away from him.
He had once saved her, but he hadn’t known at the time that he was the one that had needed saving.
They had saved each other.
Healed each other.
From the inside out.
A door slamming shut interrupted his drifting, his body tensing involuntarily.
He hadn’t said a word.
They hadn’t either.
It was a game.
A sick twisted game that he knew all too well. After all he had been here before. But on the other side. Twisting the mind of whatever fucker he had been playing with.
It was all just a game.
Now he was the fucker on the other end.
Irony.
He chuckled, he couldn’t help it.
The ways of the mafia had finally caught up with him. Just when he had thought he was free.
But he knew one thing.
He would be avenged.
That he knew he could count on.
They were all fucking doomed.
His chuckling turned into laughter as his bruised ribs protested.
“What’s so funny?” a guy muttered next to him.
He just continued to laugh, till the man reached up ripping the blind fold off his eyes, and he blinked through the light.
Like he had assumed, he was in some kind of warehouse. It had that feel about it.
Empty, cold, and it smelled like concrete and dirt.
And blood.
The old stagnate smell had hit his nose the minute they had walked in, telling him that he hadn’t been the first and that he probably wouldn’t be the last to be brought here.
