Break Me, Fix Me

Chapter 3 – The count down

Greg was a childhood friend. He, Ken, and I had grown up together. We studied in the same schools from creche to the university. Among the three of us, only Greg had refused to make "proper" use of his education.

He studied business management only to open a bar after graduating. That guy almost gave his father a heart attack from anger.

But Greg’s bars and clubs thrived. They boomed in every city he opened, eventually giving his family influence in the underground world. Only then did his father’s anger calm down.

Never did I imagine I would need his services.

“You know you can’t go out during these seven days, right?” Kenneth asked.

“I know,” I answered.

“Do you have any idea who might be after you this time?

“No. But when I do, I’ll make them regret ever being born.” My voice was cold, my blood boiling.

“I’ve taken your blood. I’ll run tests at the lab and find out when the poison was administered,” Kenneth said.

“Hey Timmy, how ya doing?” Greg’s voice came from the other end, cutting our conversation short.

“I’m fine, sir,” Tim answered, “I would like to ask for your help, sir.”

“You didn’t even ask how I was back? That’s not very nice, you know,” Greg scolded.

“I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Andrew is in a …” Tim apologized and was about to explain, but was cut off by Greg.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I’m sure your boss must have stuffed you with too much work.” He laughed, “He thinks everyone is a

workaholic like him. Let me tell you, Timmy, you mustn’t ever be like him. Come to my club sometime…”

At this point, Tim looked close to tears. Only then did I understand why he always took so long when answering Greg’s calls.

Ken simply shook his head. Having a talkative friend wasn’t a child’s joke.

I gestured for Tim to hand me the phone.

“I was poisoned,” I said, cutting Greg off.

He paused for a while before bursting into another round of laughter.

“With what this time?” He asked, and before I could answer, he continued, “You were so high profile at the bidding site. I swore that if you got out untouched, I would eat a bag full of …”

“Black Mamber.” I cut him short again.

“...wait what?” His laughter died instantly.

I breathed in; it wasn’t easy to get this guy’s attention.

“I was poisoned with Black mamber.” I repeated.

“F**k! How did it happen?’ His voice turned serious.

“I don’t know how,” I replied, “But I need something from you.

“Give me a moment, I’ll be there soon.” He said.

“You don’t need to—” The line went dead.

Sometimes I wondered how he managed to run his clubs. He was always too quick to jump to conclusions.

Greg taking this seriously should have been a relief. Instead, it unsettled me. Anything strong enough to sober him up was dangerous beyond question.

“What’s your plan?” Ken asked.

“To get a woman from one of Greg’s clubs, paid handsomely,” I answered.

Ken looked at me with a questioning gaze; he didn’t approve but wasn’t totally against it either.

“What do you think?”

“Once the toxin takes effect, your strength will spike, and your aggression will be uncontrollable. Unless you want to kill someone, one woman won’t be enough. And you are a public figure; if word gets out, your company’s shares will take a hit.

“I have blocked all news of this; it won’t get out,” Tim said.

But Ken was right. A woman could be planted as a spy by a rival or could hold the secret to ex-tort me later. Worse, she could try to tie me down permanently.

Silence fell. Everyone was lost in thought.

The sound of the door opening caught our attention, and Greg stepped inside, frowning.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Fine, until the poison acts up,” I replied.

He turned to Ken. “What’s the antidote?”

“None,” Ken said flatly.

“Then what’s the plan? There has to be some kind of solution.”

“That’s why you are here,” I said.

“The only feasible solution is s*x…” Ken began. He explained everything about the poison and its effects.

By the end, Greg’s expression was thunderous.

“They went too far this time! How do I come in?” he asked.

“We planned on getting a woman from your place to serve Mr. Andrew for the seven days. But Mr. Ken just ruled out that option,” Tim explained.

“Why?

Ken repeated his reasoning.

“Since one woman won’t be enough for the full seven days,” Greg said, “why not rotate them? One woman for each day.”

I thought that was a good suggestion, and waited to hear Ken’s bit.

Ken nodded slowly before adding his part, “There’s a liquid circulating among the elites,” he began, “They use it for pleasure. It pushes the body past its limits and gives one an unnatural stamina that lasts all night.” He looked at Greg, expecting a confirmation.

“There’s indeed such a liquid,” Greg affirmed, “But it comes with a catch.” He smirked, “When it wears off, every moment, every sensation, every detail vanishes from your memory.”

“Like it never happened?” Tim asked, stunned.

“Like it never happened. They call it “forgotten pleasure,” I added. I had heard of it at certain social gatherings. It could be used as a means of pleasure as well as a means of harm, depending on who uses it.

Fortunately, it would be my lifeline this time.

“I’ll make a few calls,” Greg said, excusing himself.

The plan was set in motion. Everyone moved to carry out their roles.

I was left bound to my bed, alone with my thoughts.

The thought of sleeping with so many women twisted my stomach. But choice was a luxury I no longer had.

I laughed at that thought. For the first time in my life, I’d been cornered.

Just as the weight of it all sank in, the door creaked open.