Rosalie listened to Laila’s screams. Though she felt a bit afraid, Laila deserved this. It was karma.
Laila’s gambling addiction had led her to incur heavy debts, and to think she even conspired with kidnappers to abduct her own niece! It was utterly unforgivable.
The screams continued for several minutes before finally subsiding. Eventually, Laila’s pleas for mercy faded away.
What a fucking jinx! the man cursed.
He was panting heavily, as if exhausted from the beating.
But no sooner had he finished cursing, he kicked Laila again.
Look what you made me do. You made me curse! How can a refined person like me use such foul language? It’s all your fault! Damn it! Damn, I cursed again!
He grabbed a bottle nearby, and smashed it over Laila’s head.
Anyone who makes me curse deserves to die!
The sound of the bottle shattering echoed sharply, like a knife piercing Rosalie’s eardrums.
Then, footsteps approached her. She trembled in fear. Suddenly, the blindfold was removed from her eyes.
Because she was blindfolded for so long, she was momentarily blinded by the light. After a while, her vision adjusted, and she looked up to see the man standing in front of her. His mask was splattered with blood—undoubtedly Laila’s blood.
Rosalie’s breathing became rapid, her eyes filled with fear. You’re going to torture me, right?
Torture you? The man burst into laughter. How do you want me to torture you? Why don’t you tell me?
Me? Rosalie smiled weakly. I don’t want you to torture me. I want you to let me go. Can you do that?
Rosalie, you’re so annoying. I went
through
So much trouble to bring et
you here, and you think I’m
go? How naive can you be?
You’re the one who asked, Rosalie replied. I answered, and now you’re unhappy.
I asked you to tell me how I should torture you, not to tell me to let you go!
Are you insane? Rosalie snapped.
Are you talking back to me?
Suddenly enraged, the man lunged at her and grabbed her by the throat.
Do you want me to kill that little bastard in your belly? He’s taken shape by now, right? I’ll take him out, show him to you all bloody, watch as he turns into meat paste and drips bit by bit onto the ground. Oh, no, no. That would be too wasteful. I’ll put him in a wrap, roll him up, and have you eat him. How about that?
Rosalie was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. She gritted her teeth, and spat out each word, You’re a psychopath!
That sounds so nice. The man tightened his grip on her throat, and chuckled. Say it again.
Rosalie didn’t respond, as she knew it wouldn’t help. He was a psychopath-the more she said it, the more excited he would become.
The man released her throat. I’m suddenly feeling a bit bored. Let’s play a game.
Hearing the words play a game, Rosalie’s heart began to race.
She remembered how this man had played so-called games with the kidnappers, a scene she couldn’t forget to this day.
The leader of the kidnappers had gouged out his subordinate’s eyes and then placed them on the ground, begging this psychopath for mercy. Whatever game he was proposing now it was surely something dreadful.
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