Turn The Screw Novels & Stories

I pressed my finger into the edges of the vent and some parts came off. “Well,” I muttered under my breath. “If ventilation shafts were made for anyone, it's me. My body is small enough to fit through.” “Yeah, that's the spirit,” Syvira said. I turned, spotting a long steel rod beneath one of the tables. Probably a part of an old machine. I held it tightly, twisting it to pry the screws loose. The first twist made my arms ache. The second one sent shock waves down my shoulder. The third one made the screws come loose.

The thumb screw is a simple but gruesome device used for extreme punishment. It consists of two sharp or flat metal plates with a screw mechanism that, when turned, brings the plates closer together, applying intense pressure on the fingers or thumbs placed between them until they would be crushed, horribly mutilated or completely severed in extreme cases. It's far easier and less time consuming than having to cut off each individual finger one after the other. It would be the perfect punishment for this brat because he'll have a front row seat to his own doom. After making sure his fingers are well in place, I begin to gradually turn the screw and the device

I only knew who they were by scent because I didn’t bother to look in their direction. That doesn’t stop me either though as I put my claws at his stomach and slowly dig in, “Maybe you’re the one who should watch the way you talk to a Turned wolf,” my claws slip deeper and deeper but he doesn’t so much as flex his abs. “Especially when you have no information on them,” he still doesn’t move an inch the whole time as I retract my claws and scape upwards a bit. I didn’t go too deep, he’ll heal in seconds from what I’ve learned from Star.

“Because my numerologist said I shouldn’t be exposed to too many decimal points, or it’ll negate my wealth-attracting energy.” Then, Kimmy slipped her arm through Dale’s. “You’ve said the floor’s margins are shrinking. But I’ve been here for so long, and everyone talks about how capable Ms. Turner is. It doesn’t add up. I think Ms. Turner has been exaggerating specs on purpose, adding an extra 0.007 mm to every screw. Multiply that by a million units, and that’s at least $7,000 right there. Over a year, that’s a lot of money.”

Ashton's POV I shrugged on my shirt with a bored expression, staring into space. "Ashy-boo, what's wrong?" Sandra's voice sounded like the buzzing of a fly that I just wanted to swat away. "Should we go for another round to help you loosen up?" She asked as she tried to unbutton my shirt but I shrugged her hands off. "I'm done with you here. You can leave." I had pressing matters to attend to right now. A lot of things were on my mind.

"You just pray that everything is intact or I will make you pay dearly!" I could see the fear in her eyes and how much she wanted to disappear right now. I bet she wished she was not on a chair right now so she would start running away. Even still, she was old and I was definitely going to catch up. The guy came back and handed me the screwdriver he had found and I went over to start loosening the screw. I noticed that they were not so tight but I did not want to start thinking about that.

But for me, already off-kilter, that kind of force made me stumble backward into Karl. The good news was that thanks to his tree trunk-like body, I didn't end up on the floor. The bad news was that he didn't exactly catch me so much as he pushed me away, making the situation even worse. I was basically a helpless body in motion, with no way to stop as long as they kept playing with me. "Dude! Three way. Send him to me." Brent wiggled his fingers as though he was cajoling them into tossing him a ball. Karl chortled, gripped my upper shoulders with his vice-like fingers and threw me toward Brent.