With arms and legs bound, I looked up at the man standing over me. He laughed, his breath chortling with phlegm as he circled around me.
“Let’s play a little game, Jean-Pierre.”
My leg twitched nervously, and my stomach hardened. Like I expected, the Butcher wasn't planning on releasing me without a dent, regardless if I spoke or stayed silent. His dirty hands grabbed a fistful of my hair and with a snap, he yanked my head back. He pried open my mouth with his fat fingers and I gagged from the taste of metal and ash.
"It is more fun if I can hear you scream," The Butcher grinned, pulling the cloth from my mouth and discarding it onto the floor. Probably to be reused for his next victim. I stared at the dirty rag and wished my mind was far away.
"Where to start, so many fingers, so many
