Venom & Vows

CHAPTER 8(Part 2)- If You Keep Pushing Me, I Will Break.

Napha, ever trusting her brother, decided to check the bags Nithi carried when they arrived home. This action, however, sent a jolt of anxiety through Nithi, who had spent the entire trip back, consumed by the gnawing uncertainty of whether he'd gotten it right. Their homecoming was marked by the presence of a sleek black car with silver rims parked ominously in front of their house. Nithi's gut clenched with a low growl; Virote knew where he lived.

Napha's brow furrowed. "Guess you have to go now..." she murmured, her voice tinged with a reluctant acceptance.

Without meeting his sister's gaze, Nithi nodded, a silent confirmation before he turned and headed towards the waiting car. He remained a statue of quiet tension as he got in, a stoic demeanor that Virote found… agreeable.

Virote wasted no time, jamming the accelerator. Nithi lurched forward, fumbling with his seatbelt. "Why are you driving like a maniac?!" Nithi shouted, his knuckles white as he clung to the passenger seat for dear life.

With a sharp, daring corner that blurred the edges of the world outside, Virote shot back, "Don't be a grandpa."

Nithi squeezed his right eye shut, his left – the blind eye – remained stubbornly open. This unexpected defiance caught Virote off guard. He glanced over, a cruel disgust spreading across his face as he met the boy's trembling, open-eyed gaze. "

Ugh, why can't you just close that blind eye?" Virote taunted, his words landing like a deliberate blow, striking a raw nerve.

Instinctively, Nithi’s hand flew up to cover his blind eye. It was his Achilles' heel, a constant reminder of what held him back, a shadow that haunted his every step. He loathed discussing it, loathed acknowledging its presence.

The car screeched to a halt, throwing Nithi forward. He emerged with legs that felt like jelly, the jarring ride leaving him questioning how a simple car journey had devolved into such a chaotic ordeal. Virote, on the other hand, exited the car with an unruffled composure, a satisfied glint in his eyes reflecting his enjoyment of Nithi’s discomfiture. Little did Nithi know, the true storm was yet to break.

Chou stood sentinel at the front door, awaiting his boss's arrival. As Virote came into view, Chou bowed respectfully, his greeting accompanied by a concise report. "He refuses to open the door."

Virote simply nodded, his expression unreadable. "Nithi, this is Chou. I'm sure you two have met."

Nithi’s gaze flickered towards Chou, but his ingrained stubbornness and deep-seated animosity towards Virote prevented any semblance of polite engagement. Chou, in turn, offered no response, viewing Nithi as just another pawn, another victim in their grim game.

Casually, Virote lit a cigar, a plume of smoke curling towards the sky. "It's been a while since I've had to get my hands dirty," he commented, his voice a low rumble before he brought his foot down with a powerful kick, splintering the front door with a resounding bang. Nithi’s eyes widened in shock.

Inside, a doctor sat on the floor, engrossed in play with two small girls. A kaleidoscope of toys lay scattered across the room. One girl appeared to be about four years old, the other a year or two older. The older child let out a startled shriek at the sudden, violent noise, while the younger one dropped a treasured teddy bear, its intended presentation to her father now overshadowed by the pale fear that had replaced the color in his face.

Virote, seemingly unconcerned by the presence of the children, gestured towards Chou. "Chou, let's take the kids out for McDonald's tonight."

A radiant smile illuminated the older girl’s face as she exclaimed, "McDonald's?!"

Her younger sister echoed her excitement with a chorus of joyful "Yay! Yay! Yay!" while bouncing with unrestrained delight.

Chou awkwardly grabbed the children's hands, his grip firm yet gentle, as the doctor reached for the four-year-old. Desperation flickered in the doctor's eyes, but it faltered under Chou's unyielding, cold stare, forcing him to release his hold. Nithi, a knot of guilt tightening in his stomach, tried to follow Chou, his unease palpable from the moment he’d stepped into the house. A premonition of something terrible unfolding settled upon him, a chilling certainty that Virote intended for him to be a witness.

"Take another step," Virote's voice, a low challenge, sliced through the tense air. He stood with his back to Nithi, an imposing silhouette.

Suddenly, Nithi’s feet felt rooted to the floor, as if his body had forgotten its own function. He watched, frozen, as Chou ushered the children into his gleaming silver car and drove away. A weary sigh escaped Nithi, a breath of pure, hopeless resignation.

"Close the front door," Virote commanded again, his tone devoid of emotion.

With leaden steps, Nithi shuffled towards the door, an involuntary roll of his eyes accompanying its heavy slam.

"Virote, I... I didn't know who was at the door, I-I… please, just listen," the doctor stammered, his voice trembling with a plea that tore at Nithi's very core. The sound resonated with a painful familiarity, a chorus of past terrors. A tidal wave of guilt washed over Nithi, his toes growing numb, a sickening sensation akin to standing on the precipice of murder.

Virote remained unnervingly silent, his expression an inscrutable mask that was, in its own way, more terrifying than any overt threat. He picked up a Barbie doll, turning it over and over in his hands, scrutinizing it as if it were evidence of a grave crime. His cigar, forgotten, slipped from his lips and fell to the floor, leaving a small, dark stain of ash.

Finally, after an eternity of silence, Virote spoke, his voice unnervingly calm. "Interesting. And what about earlier today? Did you not realize you were calling security?"

Nithi’s mind raced, grasping for context, wondering if this question preceded or followed Virote’s assault on his sister. The words caught in the doctor's throat, a choked gasp of unspoken fear. After a long, agonizing pause, he managed to say, "If I could just have a few minutes to explain, I'm-"

SLOOOOSHHHH

The acrid scent of metal saturated the room, immediately followed by a soul-shattering scream of agony that ripped through Nithi's ears. Instinctively, he clamped his hands over his ears, but his eyes, uncovered, were drawn to the horrifying tableau. The Barbie doll, its plastic legs now brutally splayed, was plunged deep into the doctor’s left eye. Blood erupted, spraying outwards with the violent pressure of a burst geyser.

A chilling amusement flickered across Virote's face. "Look, Nithi," he taunted, his voice dripping with perverse satisfaction, "now you have a twin." He pressed the doll deeper, eliciting another guttural scream of pure agony.

Nithi didn't register the insult. His hands still pressed against his ears, he used his slight frame to shove Virote away. His strength was negligible, but it was enough to make Virote stumble back a step. Stabilizing the doll with a trembling hand, Nithi tried to staunch the torrent of blood. He turned his head, the sight turning his stomach, and found himself face to face with the doctor, tears streaming down his face as he desperately tried to offer help. Now, Nithi could taste the metallic tang of blood in his own mouth, a phantom sensation conjured by the spreading miasma. Virote grunted in pure frustration before his hand clamped onto Nithi’s shoulder. With effortless power, he swung the boy back, sending him flying three large leaps. Nithi’s back slammed into the front door with a sickening series of pops from his spine, an involuntary betrayal of bone and joint. The sharp pain vibrated through him, but it was dwarfed by the stark terror he felt for the doctor.

"Watch," Virote’s single word was a brutal, unyielding command, leaving no room for defiance.

Nithi’s instincts screamed at him to intervene, to help, but as he took a tentative step forward, Virote’s frustration erupted. With a violent surge, Virote grabbed the doctor’s hair, yanking his head back with brutal force while simultaneously seizing the doll embedded within him.

“Must you be so utterly stubborn?!” Virote snarled, his eyes, now pools of chilling intent, fixed on Nithi’s own tear-filled gaze. “You know exactly what happens if I pull it out, don’t you?” Virote’s voice dropped to a menacing, low growl.

Nithi froze, his body rigid with a helplessness that clawed at his throat. The agonizing need to help warred with the primal instinct for self-preservation, leaving him paralyzed. He had no choice but to obey.

Virote’s attention then shifted back to the doctor, whose strained breaths were punctuated by choked sobs, his voice raw and broken from the unendurable pain. Blood stained his lips, and a terrifying silence fell as he struggled to breathe. Virote reveled in the spectacle, a cruel smile playing on his lips, the doctor’s suffering feeding his sense of dominance.

“You have mere minutes before you lose consciousness,” Virote warned, his grip on the doctor’s hair tightening with each word. “Confess. Who told you to raise the prices?” he demanded, his voice laced with impatience.

“D…D…” The doctor choked out, straining to force the words past his constricted throat.

Nithi’s silent plea echoed in his mind, a desperate torrent of whispered prayers: ‘Please, give him strength… please… please… please…’

Virote’s hand moved the doll, and with a sickening grip, he began to pull. The doctor’s attempt to unleash another scream of agony was met with a horrifying, choked silence.

Nithi could bear it no longer. The scene was too brutal, the suffering too profound. Guilt, sharp and overwhelming, tore through him, and he exploded into a torrent of desperate pleas. “Stop it! Please, stop! Leave him alone!” he cried, his voice cracking with sobs. But before his broken words could fully escape, Virote’s mocking laughter cut through the air.

“Ha! It’s really that simple,” Virote sneered, yanking the doll further, a crimson tide now flowing freely. “All he has to do is give me the name.”

Bending down, Virote brought his face level with the doctor’s, his voice a raspy whisper, the same unnerving rasp that had rendered Nithi momentarily numb. “Just tell me,” Virote hissed, the words chillingly soft, “who told you to raise my f*****g prices? This is the last time I’ll ask.” His patience had evaporated entirely.

With a final, monumental surge of strength, the doctor managed to force out a single word before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed. That word, a desperate whisper against the rising tide of agony, was a name: “Day.”

The moment the doctor hit the floor, a ragged sigh of relief escaped Nithi. The torture, at last, was over. Yet, he couldn't stop trembling, a wave of heat washing over him, his skin flushing a deep, sunburned red. Virote, with a ruthless flick of his wrist, finally ripped the Barbie doll free, and Nithi had to stifle a choked sob as a fresh wave of pain radiated from the doctor.

Virote then turned, his cold gaze sweeping over Nithi as he approached. Nithi stood frozen, an unnerving stillness consuming him, his body wracked with involuntary shudders.

Virote’s hand closed around Nithi’s trembling one, his grip firm as he pressed the blood-soaked doll into the boy's palm. The thick, dark liquid seeped into Nithi’s tender skin, leaving a stark, crimson stain.

“Now your fingerprints are on it,” Virote stated casually, his voice devoid of emotion.

Nithi’s throat constricted as a new, crushing fear took root.

“I could let the police find it when they get here,” Virote added, his tone deceptively light. “But I won’t.”

A flicker of relief, quickly extinguished, washed over Nithi. He knew, with chilling certainty, that this reprieve was a dangerous gamble. Virote’s unpredictability had been laid bare today, a stark and terrifying truth.

“However,” Virote continued, his voice hardening with an unmistakable warning, “if you keep pushing me, I will break. And then you will suffer.”

With that, Virote turned and walked towards the front door. Nithi, the bloody doll clutched tightly in his hand, followed numbly, his mind a terrifying blank, too consumed by fear to even form a coherent thought.

Virote, enjoying the slow descent into Nithi’s despair, pressed down on the accelerator with deliberate restraint. He wanted to savor the sight of Nithi’s dawning horror. Nithi, his knuckles white as he clutched the worn barbie doll, twisted his gaze towards the streaking cityscape outside. A desperate need for a sliver of positivity gnawed at him, a bulwark against the encroaching insanity. Tears traced burning paths down his cheeks as his frantic search yielded nothing. He replayed the recent events, sifting through them for any hint of solace, but found only the same chilling emptiness. The familiar tendrils of fear began to coil around his chest, tightening with each desperate, failed attempt to find something, anything, to cling to. His breath hitched, punctuated by ragged sobs, as the familiar panic threatened to overwhelm him.

A cruel snicker escaped Virote. He watched Nithi’s distress with a detached amusement. “Perhaps I should have pursued acting,” he taunted, his voice laced with a mocking sweetness. “You seem to be thoroughly enjoying my performance.”

Nithi didn't respond, not out of defiance, but because Virote’s words were a distant hum, drowned out by the cacophony within his own mind. Every detail of the preceding moments replayed, twisting into a nightmarish labyrinth from which there was no escape. He started to question his own senses, conjuring phantom sensations.

“Was it raining?” he mumbled, the question a desperate plea against the stark reality. The sky, however, remained stubbornly clear. “A storm?”

“Speak up,” Virote commanded.

Nithi remained silent, his gaze vacant. As the car glided past a McDonald's, a sudden, sharp growl from his stomach jolted him back to a more visceral reality. The daughters. The realization struck him with the force of a physical blow, a tiny beacon in the suffocating darkness. He had found it. He could finally breathe. A wave of profound gratitude washed over him, a balm for his raw nerves. If the doctor's daughters had witnessed what had just transpired, the trauma would have been unbearable, leaving them irrevocably scarred. The thought of their innocent eyes witnessing such a scene pained him more acutely than his own terror. But they hadn't. They were safe.

Virote, still eager to prolong his psychological torment, escalated his aggression. His voice boomed, a raw yell that shattered the fragile calm. “Speak!”

Nithi was beyond the reach of outward stimuli, a shell of numb shock. His emotional landscape had shifted, a subtle recalibration that finally allowed him to register Virote’s presence. His gaze drifted back to the passing buildings, his voice a low murmur.

“Thank you…”

Virote missed the whispered sentiment, his hearing still tuned to the echoes of his own demands. “Don't make me repeat it,” he warned, his voice a dangerous growl.

Nithi turned his head towards Virote, the strength to raise his voice gone, but his words were now closer, more defined. “You could have forced the children to witness it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “but you didn't.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Virote’s face.

“And for that,” Nithi continued, his gaze returning to the window, “I thank you.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet accusation that resonated deeply within Virote. He felt a surge of indignant rage. He had subjected this boy to such profound terror, leaving him physically and emotionally battered, only to be met with a thank you for… what exactly? For refraining from an even greater cruelty? Virote’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles blanching as the leather protested under the pressure. He had introduced Nithi to a world of fear, and the boy dared to express gratitude for an act that hadn't even directly involved him.

With a violent jerk, Virote slammed on the brakes. The car shuddered to a halt, the click of the unlocked doors a sharp punctuation mark. “Get out,” he spat, the words clipped and cold.

Without a word, Nithi opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. The truth was, another moment spent in Virote's suffocating presence would have felt like literal suffocation. Virote sped away, the tires spitting gravel, leaving Nithi to compel his own legs to move physically. The long walk home had begun.