Slasherazzi by Daniel A. Kaine Read Free Book Online Page B

wool, my jaw clenched and eyebrow twitched. I pulled a little on the wire, hoping he would get the message. He closed his mouth and kept it shut for the rest of the drive until we came to a halt outside an old warehouse. Having arrived at our destination, I yanked hard on the ligature. His body bucked, his hands scrabbling to gain some purchase. He found none, and soon he went slack. I dropped the wire and checked his pulse. It beat softly beneath my fingertips, almost a ghost of a heartbeat, but still there.
With one of his arms over my shoulders, I dragged his limp body into the nearest building, his feet trailing on the ground behind us, and laid him down gently on a large wooden table before reaching for the rope and tape I knew were on the dust-covered desk. I set about restraining his wrists first, tying them to the table legs, then his legs and ankles, until I was sure there would be no easy escape. With his body spread tight across the wooden surface, I unbuckled his belt and jerked it through the loops of his pants. Next were the clothes, which easily came off when faced with the sharp edge of my trusty knife.
Only his tight red boxers remained when he finally groaned and attempted to roll over onto one side. There was a moment’s pause before his eyes shot open and he wriggled and squirmed in a vain attempt to free himself.
“What’s the big idea?” he yelled.
“Thought we might have a little bit of fun,” I replied, twirling the knife in my hand where it was clear to see.
“You said if I did as you asked—”
“I said you would make it out of the car alive, and you did,” I said with a nonchalant shrug. “I made no guarantees as to what would happen once you stepped outside.”
“You won’t get away with this,” he shouted, still twisting his wrists to try and free them from the tight ropes.
I brought the knifepoint down to his cheek. His body froze beneath its touch. “Do you know who I am, Detective?”
“Slasherazzi,” he answered.
“Well done. Perhaps you do have a few more brain cells than I originally anticipated.”
“Fuck you,” he spat.
“Or not.” I drew the blade down his cheek, and his jaw clenched. A tiny river of crimson welled to the surface and began to trickle across and down toward his ear.
“How about we play a little game I made up?” I asked. He scowled at me, his eyes almost burning with rage in the dim candlelight. “The rules are quite simple. I want you to tell me what you think you know about me. And for every statement you get wrong, I choose a body part to cut open.”
“You’re a sick fuck,” he answered.
“Correct, but I think that’s a given.” I placed the knife at his side and turned to kneel and rummage through the knives and ropes in my bag before finally reaching the black case that sat at the bottom. I lifted it out and popped open the fastenings.
“What is that?” the detective asked.
I chuckled and slipped the camera from its holder and into my hand. “Just a quick before image. I do hope you’re not too camera shy.”
He turned his head away, and I took the lens cap off before bringing the camera to eye level. The flash illuminated the room for a brief second, then all was dark again. I set the camera down on a nearby table and picked up the knife once more to trail the point along the ridge of his ribs.
“Now, let’s get back to the real fun. Start talking, Detective.”
“If I talk, you’ll just kill me,” he replied.
“While I can’t say that’s untrue, I am going to kill you regardless.” I pressed the blade harder into him, tracing a crimson line along the underside of his ribcage. He hissed and balled his hands into fists, his body tensing. “But the longer you refuse to talk, the more time I’ll have to spend loosening you up.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it tight. I snickered, finding his resolve to be quite amusing. “More fun for me then.”
I started with a line down the center of his chest, from the dip in his