#4 fell to the floor, bruises already starting to show up on her emaciated and bony body. She was crying as well, her mascara running down her cheeks in black rivulets, streaking her with a black/grey wash. From the floor she could see Zoran holding up her would-be killer by the throat – the woman’s toes now barely touching the ground.
Zoran continued choking the killer –
Look at that – that choke hold – I want that to happen to you
You’ll die if I die
No I won’t – I will live forever. I will live forever with you – within you. You are my host and the host cannot be rid of the parasite. I’m that parasite – feeding off you. But you need me too. I keep you on the straight and narrow now don’t I? Hmm??? Well, don’t I?
I suppose –
You suppose??!! No “suppose”!!! If it weren’t for me, you would have been dead a while ago. But I want to see what it’s like to be choked, to have that life squeezed from you. I want to feel you slip away, with me holding on to your coat-tails for the ride. You’ll take me to somewhere new – maybe somewhere where I’ll be appreciated a bit more.
No, you can’t –
Yes I can – and I will. I’m with you forever.
The woman’s face had gone from purple to blue and Stephen could see that her hands that were clawing at Zoran in a pathetic attempt at self-preservation were now limp at her side and dangled as uselessly as Stephen’s legs. He held her dying body in the air, her toes barely brushing ground. His face was set hard like concrete, his lips blue with the exertion of squeezing the life out of her.
Pretty soon, she too was dead.
He threw her lifeless corpse onto the concrete floor with a slapping thud.
“No-one step out of line here!” he roared at the crowd watching. “No-one kill anyone until I fucking say so – OK? You know the rules – you break the rules and, well, you end up like that.” He spat on the dead woman’s body.
He turned to Franklin: “You started this fat man, you made this happen. I will make you my bitch.” He spat the words into Franklin’s face, a thin string of spittle fell from his bottom teeth. “By the end of the night, there will either be your blood on my knife, or your shit on my cock. Maybe both!”
He grinned, but did not laugh. It was the menacing smile of a cat about to toy with its prey, oblivious to the pain and suffering his antics would cause. Zoran finally looked like he was enjoying himself, thought Stephen.
Your fat mate’s going to get raped by that big psycho –
He’s not my mate
and you’re going to be too weak and gutless to do anything about it
What can I do? I’m in a bloody wheelchair. He could kill me any moment he wants
There you go again, feeling sorry for yourself, using your chair and your useless legs as an excuse. Like almost every other occasion in your pathetic life you are blaming someone – or something – else for the predicament you’re in.