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38: Torture
Darby
Numb with shock and bitter cold from sitting against the cavern wall, I still notice when Slimy returns, his long leather duster sweeping outward like a cloak, blackness spreading out behind him like the darkest night. He’s still wearing his vicious grin, but it falls immediately seeing the punctures that linger, bright red and gaping open at my wrists.
Crouching over me, he jerks my face up to look at him, turning it left and right. I assume he’s looking for more injuries, but at this point, the punctures are the least of what I’ve suffered. And frankly, I hope the fact that they’re visible creates a problem for him. A big problem.
“Who did this to you?” he demands, his freezing fingers closing on my throat when I fail to answer, my eyes drifting away from his face to stare
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