Page 42 of Ash and Poison

“Pl-please—” he choked out, voice broken.

“The girl… Riley McLaren. Her autopsy report said she killed herself. Do you remember her?”

“I don’t know he-her. I don’t know anything.” He groaned.

“You’re going to tell me what I need to know,” I said, grabbing the hammer from the table and gently tapping it against his forehead. “Don’t be stupid. Don’t die like Doctor Tomlinson.” I laughed when he growled. I smashed the hammer against his teeth and knocked out the gold one. He screamed, thrashing against the rope. “Answers. I need to understand what you’re saying when you finally give in, and that’s the only reason I’m not breaking all your teeth, Hannigan. Do you, or do you not, know Riley?”

His eyes turned dark. The desperation was quickly replaced by malice as he looked up at me.

“You’re not going to get any-anything from me, Christopher. Is that even your real name? You can kill me, but you won’t walk out of this place. They’ll roll both our bodies out in a fucking gurney,” he spat out, blood dribbling down his lips.

“Don’t worry about me, worry about yourself,” I said, placing his finger on the armrest and slamming the hammer into his thumb until he wailed. “Still don’t remember Riley?”

“There were a lot of bitches. Which one was this?” He laughed, spitting down the blood with a leer.

When I first killed, I had puked my guts out. When I killed Doctor T, I was only looking for answers. But now… now I seemed to be enjoying this darkness that was slowly overtaking me, becoming a part of me.

I had no control over it. It thrived on blood and pain.

“Well then, let me help you out a bit with your memory.” I picked up a pair of pliers from the table. Hannigan’s eyes widened as I examined the tool for a moment before turning back to the bastard. “We’re going to have fun.”

Reaching down, I gripped his hand in mine, smiling at him. I pressed the pliers to his thumb, pausing just long enough to let the fear sink in before I began to deliberately pry it off. He wasn’t so stoic anymore.

Hannigan screamed, thrashing against his restraints, sobbing.

I tossed the pliers aside and grabbed the dagger.

“Now?”

Tears stained his cheeks. “No.”

“If your life’s the price...”

“I-I didn’t…”

Sighing, I thrust the dagger into his thigh. He jerked up and wailed.

“I came all this way for nothing. What a fucking waste.” Grunting, I pulled it back. “Die then.”

“No-no. No. I don’t know. Someone blackmailed me and… p-paid me. I-I have never seen the girls.” He finally relented, his haughtiness smashed to smithereens at the edge of death. “The girls come out, drugged, wearing a black mask. Fu-fully covered. The man who brought them to my van called himself Rip. It-it wasn’t the doctor. I bring the girls to the woods and leave them.”

“Who did you leave the girls with?”

“I… tied them to a tree…” Hannigan whispered. “Please, don’t kill me.”

“The place?”

“Duskwood Park. Near the stream.” Blood bubbled from between his lips, and he wailed, shaking his head, tears streaming down his face. “Tha-that—”

“How does this man pay you?”

“They leave a leather bag. I-I take the money and leave,” Hannigan said with a whimper. “I-I don’t know. I always assumed it was for sex, but I don’t know. I never saw anyone.”

“Weren’t you curious?”

Pale and bloodless, Hannigan shook his head. “No questions. Tha-that’s the first rule when he contacted me.”

“Do you still do that? Take girls from the asylum and…”