Diary Of A Degenerate 34

I awoke with the stinging burn of freezing water spraying into thousands of cuts, burns, and breaks all over my body. For a moment I thought I was drowning again, but it soon became clear I wasn't that kind of lucky. The familiar voice of a young girl began her spanish chattering, alerting my tormentor to my recently regained consciousness. I pawed at the burning on the side of my head and was immediately reminded of my broken fingers as they slid across a prickly texture that could only be fresh stitches.

 

My rage got the better of me, and I started screaming every obscenity that I had learned in my long life of unrepentant bastardry. I scooted towards the blurred shapes in front of me, kicking and spitting, and told them what I planned to do to the whores they called mothers when they finally sent me to punch my ticket in hell. I had never been so angry in my life, fueled by further frustration when I discovered how difficult it is to get up from the ground with broken hands. But the three figures before me shocked me into silence with a simple dismissal of my fury. Full-throated laughter. They disarmed me entirely by mocking my efforts as they doubled over from strained stomachs. I was left only with despair.

 

The biggest shadow excused himself from the room, leaving only a tall, skinny man and the small girl. She walked over to me and calmly sat down in on the wet floor next to me. I was shocked that she was not deterred by the bloody, vulgar pulp that I had become. There was no mirror about, but I was certain that I was in the kind of shape that would make an ER doctor cringe. With an unnervingly even voice, she addressed me in near perfect english. "We know you are rich. We found your money. We also know you are desperate, since no white man would ever face the river unless their life is on the line." She spoke with an even tone and maturity that put chills down my spine. "And my father wants everything you ever had. He wants all your money, and all the money you can get from anyone who loves you enough to pay for your well-being. But he is not a patient man. He will come back in twenty minutes and he will ask you to make a phone call. Depending on the result of that call, he will either take you upstairs to be dressed and enjoy a fresh meal at our table, or he will begin to dismantle your body. He will cut off your fingers and toes, your cock and balls, then your ears and nose. It is only when you pass out from pain or loss of blood that he will let you die, then dissolve you in a series of barrels outside."

 

She then got up while I sat in silence, walked over to the door and knocked gently, then left me to think about my end.