Crimson Hunger

Chapter 41

Ian watched him pull a long rod from a metal basket close to the fireplace but it wasn't a fire poker. It had a wooden handle on one end and what looked like a flat base on the other. He placed the flat end inside the fire as if to roast it.

"I suppose you're still talking about yourself?" Ian asked, his tone flat but with Garrick's experience with Ian, he managed to feel the sarcasm in it.

"You never change, Ian, do you? You never admit your mistakes, you never apologize for wronging others and you enjoy putting people down when you're threatened by them," he paused, "Ian, my old friend, you have a very weak character."

Ian vigorously rolled over, sat up and spat, "I am not your friend, Garrick!"

Garrick responded with a sneer. "You seduced her and manipulated her," he said, staring at the rod's end as it slowly began to redden in the blazing fire, "I never imagined it could be you who had taken her away from me. You are sick, jealous and repulsive. You drugged her ears with your patter and lies, you made her promises that any girl would die for, you seduced her with your empty looks—if only she could see how ugly you were on the inside."

He slowly walked to Ian, staring into his eyes. "Ian, my dear, the only villain in this room is you," he said before startling him with a not-very-strong kick in the right side of his rib cage.

Ian immediately hunched over his right side and flopped on the ground. It felt as if his whole body was shutting down and quitting on him and the will to fight back was drained out of him. Energy was sucked out of his every fiber and he was completely incapacitated. He closed his eyes, waiting for the excruciating, unusual pain to pass. His heart plummeted as if it lost its will to beat and the world started to spin. He wondered if he would be able to ever move again.

He was further pinned to the floor by strong pressure as if someone had stepped on his back. His right arm was then pulled out and he felt an overwhelming burning in its upper part that swept to paralyze half his body with agony. He let out a very long, loud cry that slowly faltered into a whimper as his nostrils filled with the smell of burning flesh.

"There!" Garrick said before he left the room, allowing Ian to sob as he pleased. He wished to scream but could no longer find his voice.

"Please stop," he mouthed the words, unable to hear them.

Garrick returned, shutting the door behind him. He walked to Ian, who was still dazed, and applied an ointment to his upper arm then bandaged it.

"You should take care of this wound," he said, "I wish to brand you, not deprive you of your arm or kill you. I'm a good man, Ian, unlike you."

Bit by bit, Ian's body began to recover if not for the stinging burn in his arm. "What a twisted moral code you have," he said, his voice still a breathy whisper and his forehead puckered by a tense scowl.

"You got her pregnant, Ian," Garrick said, walking back to his wing chair and sitting on it then lighting a cigarette, "she never told anyone. She died of a botched abortion and left me a letter of apology telling me the whole story."

Ian summoned all the strength he had left and pulled his body to sit up. The pain caused by the kick to his liver was completely gone as if it never happened.

"It's her fault; she should've told me," he said, his voice a tad stronger and his memory now more vivid.

"Tell you after you dumped her?"

"Why not? I could've fixed it."

"Fixed what?" Garrick barked, "You betrayed your best friend, you seduced the love of his life into cheating on him... with you!" He paused, "You got her pregnant and you murdered her!"

"I did not murder her," Ian finally found the strength to yell.

"Her eyes and the note she left me told a different story," Garrick blew a white cloud into the room, "you broke her heart; how in hell was she supposed to let you know she was carrying your bastard child? She wrote me a long letter apologizing to me and telling me how you mesmerized her with your fake charms then dumped her as if she were a used, dirty napkin—"

"I'm fed up with your tale of woe and drama," Ian said, his voice calm and deep. He lay back on the cold floor and pressed his burning forearm against it.

"You're still in denial after all those years, Garrick. Stop blaming me and realize that Olivia actually did cheat on you—yes, with me, but it isn't like I blackmailed, bullied or forced her. She came willingly and she wasn't even careful."

"To save your ass, you're ready to put the blame on a woman who now belongs to the world of the dead," Garrick grunted, "classic Ian!"

"Okay, Garrick," Ian vigorously lifted his head and his voice grew louder, "I'm an animal, I admit it! But, let's face it, you stabbed me because Olivia cheated on you. I am not to be blamed alone and you are no better than me. In fact, you are the dirty villain. Look at you—what in hell are you?" His voice now grew louder, "A thug in a fancy suit!"

"I'm a drug lord," Garrick replied abruptly, his tone casual, then continued, "If only she told me why she'd become so distant and wanted to break off our engagement. I saw melancholy in her eyes and thought it was me; I must have done something to upset her and cause her so much misery. I blamed myself but she never told me what was troubling her all this time. She was burdened with feelings of guilt, humiliation, betrayal, self-hatred and worthlessness... and she was alone."

Ian lay his head back on the hard floor.

"I forgave her but still find it very difficult to forgive you," Garrick placed the cigarette back between his lips and inhaled deeply then blew leisurely, resting his head against the chair's back, "I know you; you've done this to others. Friendship or business partnership did not stop you from doing it to me. You're sick and worthless. At first, I thought you did not deserve to live, so I stabbed you, but right after I was done, it occurred to me that there was no worse punishment than living while being you."

"Once you're done with this tale, may I see my new tattoo?"

Garrick looked up, blinked repeatedly then laughed. "It's the letter 'A,' my friend, burnt into your filthy flesh."

"Same old nerd!" Ian exclaimed then laughed, "Seriously? At least give me a cool tattoo!"

Garrick laughed loudly then paged his men. They appeared in the room like genies out of rubbed lamps. Their boss motioned for them with his head to drag Ian outside and so they did.

***

Thank you so much for reading Chapter 41. 

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Until we meet again in Chapter 42 :D