Lukas rises from his seat, buttoning his black suit jacket. He walks around the table and drops a hand on my shoulder heavily as he leans close.
“Just try not to make a mess,” he murmurs quietly. “Happy hunting, my friend.”
Great minds think alike.
I stand from the table, pocketing my hefty winnings and stopping by the bar for a drink. I sip the whiskey slowly, eyeing the poker table across the room. Tim is spiraling, I can see it from here. He shoves his fingers through his greasy, thinning hair, looking nervous. The dealer flips the river, and I can almost hear Tim’s stomach hitting the floor from here. He’s just lost more money.
I wait until he stands on wobbly feet. He slams back his drink and turns to stagger toward the restroom.
My lips curl dangerously.
Go time.
Tim is in the middle of pissing into one of the urinals when I grab him. He squeals like a stuck pig, screaming and thrashing and getting pee all over himself as I yank him by the back of his collar across the bathroom floor.
I kick open the stall door, dragging him inside and punching him hard in the face. His nose breaks, and he screams and burbles in agony as blood gushes down over his mouth. Without so much as a word, I grab the scruff of his neck, yank him to the toilet, and shove his face down into it.
I wait there for a moment, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders as I easily hold Tim’s flailing, spasming body to the floor with his head in the toilet bowl. After about thirty seconds, I yank him out again, sputtering and choking and screaming as he blindly wipes bloodied, pink-tinged toilet water from his face.
“Please!!” he bleats. “Please! Tell him I’ll pay! I swear to fuck I’ll pay! I’ve got it, too!” he screams, clinging to my pants, begging on his knees. I scowl down at him and kick my leg, shaking him off like an annoying insect.
“This isn’t about money, Tim.”
He pales as I say his name.
“It’s—it’s not?”
“Nah.”
I grab his neck and shove his face back into the toilet. This time, I drag it out a little longer, letting him truly feel the icy grip of death as the threat of drowning has him spasming and kicking.
He chokes and immediately vomits up toilet water when I drag him out again.
“Being held underwater sucks, doesn’t it, Tim?”
He stares up at me with bleary, unfocused eyes. “W-what?”
He reels when I punch him in the mouth.
“Being grabbed, Tim,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “And forced, against your will, underwater.”
He blinks again, shaking. “I—I have no idea what you’re talking—”
“Wrong answer.”
The back of his head rattles the stall wall when I punch him again. His eyes bulge as I grab his throat and snarl down into his face.
“If you so much as think about telling me you’re not sure whose head I’m talking about you holding underwater, I’ll rip your goddamn throat out right here and now.”
His face goes ashen as the penny drops.
“P-please…” he chokes, his voice quieter now, full of true fear. “Please, I never—”
“Never what, Tim? Gave a fuck whether she had any interest in sucking your pathetic excuse for a dick?” I snap, smirking at his shriveled “manhood” poking out of his fly.
He swallows violently, trembling as he looks up at me.
“Who…who is she to you?”
My wrath fills the bathroom as I leer down over him.
“She’s my wife.”
“Oh God, please!” he squeals. “C’mon, man! Please!! I was a just a kid! You know? Just being stupid!”
“Boys will be boys, right, Tim?” I snarl. “Just having a little fun when you fucking shoved her head under the water?”
My hand clamps hard around his throat, squeezing until I see his eyes start from his head.
“Please!” he croaks. “Please! I have a wife!”
“You hit your wife, you piece of shit,” I grunt. “And you’re cheating on her. Try again.”
His croak turns into a gurgle as I shove his face back down into the toilet bowl. When I pull him out, he sputters, choking and wiping water and blood out of his eyes.
“If I die, they’ll go after her for the debt!”
Goddammit.
