I got up early next morning, I didn't want to be late to my appointment with Mr. Petrov's son. I decided to call the old man, for a change. From an untraceable number, of course. Having him calling me non-stop wouldn't be exactly fun.
Mr. Petrov finally took the phone. “Who's this?”
I didn't try to hide the smile in my voice. “Can't you guess?”
Mr. Petrov's voice burst with anger. “Look, you bastard. I'm willing to try to work this out. But...” He kept ranting.
Yeah, try to settle for, what, 60, 80 million, you idiot. So you still have room to breathe. Yeah, nope. Not going to happen. I smiled at the thought and cut his nonsense. “I won't haggle. I told you. A hundred million or that legal agreement. I won't settle for any less. Anyway, same place, by noon. Don't be late, or else.” And I hung up.
It was a couple minutes past noon when I entered the cell. The boy was curled into a ball, a sobbing wreck of a man. He started mumbling as soon as he saw me. “Look, I'll call my father if you want, I'll help you convince him, but please, don't hurt me, please...”
“Well... daddy says he indeed doesn't have that much, but I know he's lying. So... you know what I have to do.” I took the chair and put it in the middle of the room, facing the hidden cam. “Sit. Cooperate, and I'll make it brief.”
The young man was sobbing, his eyes red and swollen. He had probably been crying all night. He sat awkwardly, almost frozen with fear.
I handed him a water bottle. “Hey. You need to drink something, I don't want you dying of dehydration. It's plain water, I promise.”
He drank half of the bottle in one big gulp. “Tha-thanks.”
“No need to thank me. ... Now, you know what I must do.” I drew the knife.
He started mumbling again, his eyes tightly shut as if not seeing me would take all his problems away. “Fuck, no, please, at least let me try to help, I...”
I circled him, leaned over to whisper in his ear so the cam wouldn't hear my words. “Oh, you will help, don't worry. You'll be working for me.”
I shushed him, forcefully closed his mouth as I grabbed his head, when he started mumbling again. This deal was between us both, no need to get anyone else involved. I leaned closer to him, whispering in his ear as I carved an X on his cheek. “Here, let me sign you the contract.”
His muted screams still echoed around the small room. His blood promptly painted his whole cheek, his neck, my own hand, and finally his shirt. Yet the cut wasn't deep enough to warrant quick action.
I ignored it all and kept talking into his ear. “You'll do as I say. Or else. Think this all is bad? … Think again. This doesn't even come close to bad. Yet.” And I raised my voice for the cam to hear me. “Now, boy. Shut up already and give me your hand.”
Nonsense for an answer. Idiot. Like that could help him.
He wasn't cooperating, so I grabbed his hand. Again I let the knife rest against the next finger's last joint. He had stopped mumbling and now was just sobbing, or maybe his sobs muted his nonsensical words. I slowly let the edge dig into his skin, and soon, blood painted his hand crimson. I kept pushing, just letting the blade get through the actual joint. It's never a good idea to try to cut through bone, that's what joints are for. After a couple long minutes of steadily pushing ever so harder, the fingertip was dangling from the skin and a bit of flesh. I glanced at the boy's eyes as I let the knife on his thigh. He had them shut hard, as if seeing what was happening would make it any more real.
“Look at this, boy.” I whispered a split second before grabbing the dangling tip and giving it a quick jerk, tearing the skin and flesh that kept it hanging.
His scream flooded my ears, left them ringing for a few seconds.
I kept looking into his eyes. He closed them tightly a split second after the tug, but soon opened them to find mine. He froze, terrified of my ominous grin. He started mumbling once more. “Oh, fuck, no, no, please...”
Again I took the lighter and flicked it alight. “You know what's going to happen, don't you?”
