As I advanced towards her, swirling the blade between my index finger and thumb, I intoned casually, “Now how should I start? Do I stick needles beneath your fingernails? Should I cut pieces of your flesh and feed it to you? Maybe I should just boil oil and pour it over your naked body. Hahahahahahaha.
It’ll be a laugh. Watching you squirm and cook. Hahahahahhahahaa”. Her expression was one of pure horror. And I think what scared her the most was not the offhand way I was reciting the methods I could use to torture her, but the fact that she knew I could do it. I was not joking. And she knew, above all else, that I would enjoy it.
I could see her mind reeling. I kneeled in front of her and gazed into her eyes. Smiling as charmingly as ever. “I actually want to hear you scream. So I’m going to remove your gag now.” I tugged on the piece of cloth I’d used to secure the sock into her mouth. As soon as it became loose, she flexed her jaws and worked some spittle into her mouth.
I assumed she was going to start screaming blue murder and waited patiently. Instead, her tear streaked face lit up and she gave a roaring, booming laughter that left me puzzled, to say the least.
She struggled to control herself so she could communicate to me what she found so funny. “Wow wow wow. How the hunter as become the hunted. Hahahahahahahaha. I’ll give you some accolades. You got me, by the balls if I might add. Hahahahahaha.”
“What’s so fucking hilarious you dumb cunt?” This was not the emotion I had expected. I’d hoped she’d be begging for her life by now, groveling in fact.
“You. Me. Us indeed. What kind of god is sitting up there. He has a wicked sense of humor I’d say. OK listen up you bastard. I also came here with the intention of ending your life. Do me a favour? Please go through my handbag and bring out whatever is in there.”
I stood unevenly, trying to figure out if she was trying to psyche me out. Begrudgingly, I reach into her bag. Impatient now, I dumped all the content on the floor. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Asides from the female paraphernalia in it, glaringly in contrast to everything else was a butcher’s knife. It looked recently buffed and gleamed in the soft light shining in the room.
“What is this?” I asked, my mouth agape. “It’s a knife you idiot. I came here to kill you too.” We looked at each other from across the room. Daring the other to look away, show any sign of weakness. I saw none in her eyes.
“Well I’ll be damned”, I groaned in astonishment.
For The Finale: Dinner For Two Finale