Merciful Fate (ON HOLD!!)

1| Interrogation

Lana's POV

"Tell me, ты маленький ублюдок." I drag my knife along his jaw, stopping under his chin to tilt his head up at me. "What do you know about the killings going around?" (you little fucker)

He doesn't answer. Instead, his oh-so-lovely response is spitting on my face.

I closed my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. I open them back up and straighten myself to my full height. I may be only 5'5, but I can still hold my ground without faltering. Being underestimated and proving myself to someone is one of the best feelings.

This is getting no where. I wipe my face and tighten my hold on the knife. In a blink of an eye, its standing right in the middle of his hand. He lets out an ear piercing scream.

"You know... that didn't have to happen if you would just cooperate. Just tell me what you know, and you won't have to be in any more pain. Although, I would gladly love to hear you scream some more, its music to my ears." I hum.

"You're sick." He spat, glaring at me.

I glance at him and a smile slowly stretches across my face. "Thank you," I said, walking toward the table where all my beautiful baby's lie. "Alright, no more chitchat, this is getting boring fast."

I grab a handgun and take my time to walk back toward the man in the chair.

"So," I hum, "I'm not going to ask again," annoyance laced in my voice, "what do you know about the killings going around?"

He looks at me, and when he doesn't answer, I shoot him in one of his knees. He lets another out another scream, and it sounds so girlish for a grown man. Well, as grown as he can be, which isn't that much, even though he's, like, in his early sixties or something. The thought makes me chuckle to myself.

I shoot him in the other knee just for the fun of it. I love shooting people. Well, hurting people in general is my guilty pleasure. Not that I actually feel guilty about it. That makes me sound like a psychopath, and I kind of am one, but I honestly couldn't care less about it. I shrug to myself.

He lets out a crying whimper which brings me back from out of my head. I roll my eyes. God, why does he have to be so annoying?

I could be spending my precious time out getting strawberry shortcake, but no, I just have to deal with a smelly old man.

With my knife in one hand, I nonchalantly start to cut open his left arm, opposite to the hand I stabbed a knife through. It's still there, looking as pretty as it is.

Blood starts to poor down his arm and onto his lap as I continue. When he still doesn't say anything, I move to his other arm. He lets out a series of cries, but no words come out of his mouth, only screams.

Wow, I must say I'm impressed. He's one stubborn man.

When he still doesn't say anything, I take a step back, trying to decide what else I could do. His face is pretty clean, so why not mess that up a little.

His eyes open back up, but before he can even register it, I'm throwing a right hook to his cheekbone. His head whips to the side and I smile.

I throw another hook to the left side of his jaw and two teeth fly out, rolling on the floor a couple feet away from him, creating a tinkling sound.

Still nothing.

Alright, then. Let's try something else. An idea pops into my head after a minute.

The smile on my face turns into a smirk.

"Hey, you don't need your fingers, right?" I walk up to him and crouch down. "It's not like you're good at pleasuring women, that's a given. I mean, look at you." A laugh spills from my lips.