growing colder. " I ' m taking everything from you. " He paused for an instant, said nothing; when he spoke again, his voice was very close to Steve ' s right ear. " Your hands were just a downpayment, " he cooed sadistically. " We ' re not even close to being even yet. "
Steve felt hot breath in his ear, snapped his head around to get a look at the attacker. By the time he did so, the man had retreated out of his range of sight. Steve let his head fall forward, and he wept.
" What ' s the matter, boy ? " the tormentor asked icily, roughly shaking the chair. " Don ' t you want to pay up? "
" Please, " wailed Steve. " Don ' t do this to me! "
" Listen, " clipped the man. " Why don ' t you just take this like a man? If you are a man, that is. "
Caught by a storm of pain, an amplified wave cresting up from his arms, Steve crushed his teeth together and held his breath. Involuntarily, he stiffened, pressing his body into the chair.
" You aren ' t a man, are you ? " the attacker asked tauntingly, and then he laughed.
" I ' m dying, " rasped Steve. " I ' m bleeding to death! "
" Well, of course you are, silly, " clucked the man. " Did you just now figure that out? " Laughing loudly, he swatted the top of Steve Kimmel ' s head. " Boy! I knew you were a little slow, but this is ridiculous! "
Steve was beginning to feel cold, and he shivered. He wanted to scream again, but he knew that would only make things worse. With awful certainty, he realized that he was probably going to die soon.
Despite the bleak outlook, Steve knew that he had to keep pleading with the mysterious attacker. Maybe, it still wasn ' t too late; maybe, if Steve said the right thing, he could convince the guy to spare his life...and if he could get an ambulance to the house quickly enough, he could still survive. Maybe they could even save his hands , pack them in ice and reattach them.
Like a destitute man huddling over a lottery ticket, praying for an unlikely miracle, Steve gathered himself around his feeble hopes. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tiny seeds of possibility, tried to will them to grow.
" Look, " he gasped, speaking only with great effort. " Why don ' t you...tell me why you ' re doing this. I swear...I really don ' t know. "
" You want an explanation? " The stranger paused, and Steve could hear him shuffling behind the chair. " Too bad, " he said finally. " You won ' t get one. "
" Why ? " pressed Steve, shivering violently, feeling ever colder.
" Because you didn ' t give me any explanations when you ruined me. Fair is fair, don ' t you think? "
Gently, the stranger flicked a finger against the back of Steve ' s head. Expecting another beating, Steve lunged forward, flinching from the blow which never came.
" You know, " said the man, his tone low and bitter. " You ' re already ahead of the game. At least I ' m giving you a warning that I ' m going to kill you. You never gave me a warning. "
" Who are you ? " grated Steve. " At least tell me who you are. "
The attacker chuckled menacingly, drummed his fingers on the back of the chair. " Santa Claus, " he said. " I know you ' ve been bad, so instead of giving you presents, I ' m going to take things away. "
His meager hopes shrinking with each dark word from the stranger ' s mouth, Steve closed his eyes. " Please, " he groaned. " I don ' t want to die. Whatever I did wrong...I can fix it. I can...help you...make up for it. "
" Hah ! " barked the man, his voice suddenly erupting with anger. " You can ' t help me! You can ' t fix it! It ' s too late for that! " With an inarticulate cry of rage, he drove his fist like a hammer against the side of Steve ' s skull. " You missed your chance to help me! "
" Please ! " shrieked Steve Kimmel, tears rushing from his eyes, his face contorted with agony. " I ' ll do anything! "
" The only thing you can do to help me, " growled the man, " is die ! It won ' t make up for what you did , but at least it ' ll give me a good laugh! "
"
Steve felt hot breath in his ear, snapped his head around to get a look at the attacker. By the time he did so, the man had retreated out of his range of sight. Steve let his head fall forward, and he wept.
" What ' s the matter, boy ? " the tormentor asked icily, roughly shaking the chair. " Don ' t you want to pay up? "
" Please, " wailed Steve. " Don ' t do this to me! "
" Listen, " clipped the man. " Why don ' t you just take this like a man? If you are a man, that is. "
Caught by a storm of pain, an amplified wave cresting up from his arms, Steve crushed his teeth together and held his breath. Involuntarily, he stiffened, pressing his body into the chair.
" You aren ' t a man, are you ? " the attacker asked tauntingly, and then he laughed.
" I ' m dying, " rasped Steve. " I ' m bleeding to death! "
" Well, of course you are, silly, " clucked the man. " Did you just now figure that out? " Laughing loudly, he swatted the top of Steve Kimmel ' s head. " Boy! I knew you were a little slow, but this is ridiculous! "
Steve was beginning to feel cold, and he shivered. He wanted to scream again, but he knew that would only make things worse. With awful certainty, he realized that he was probably going to die soon.
Despite the bleak outlook, Steve knew that he had to keep pleading with the mysterious attacker. Maybe, it still wasn ' t too late; maybe, if Steve said the right thing, he could convince the guy to spare his life...and if he could get an ambulance to the house quickly enough, he could still survive. Maybe they could even save his hands , pack them in ice and reattach them.
Like a destitute man huddling over a lottery ticket, praying for an unlikely miracle, Steve gathered himself around his feeble hopes. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tiny seeds of possibility, tried to will them to grow.
" Look, " he gasped, speaking only with great effort. " Why don ' t you...tell me why you ' re doing this. I swear...I really don ' t know. "
" You want an explanation? " The stranger paused, and Steve could hear him shuffling behind the chair. " Too bad, " he said finally. " You won ' t get one. "
" Why ? " pressed Steve, shivering violently, feeling ever colder.
" Because you didn ' t give me any explanations when you ruined me. Fair is fair, don ' t you think? "
Gently, the stranger flicked a finger against the back of Steve ' s head. Expecting another beating, Steve lunged forward, flinching from the blow which never came.
" You know, " said the man, his tone low and bitter. " You ' re already ahead of the game. At least I ' m giving you a warning that I ' m going to kill you. You never gave me a warning. "
" Who are you ? " grated Steve. " At least tell me who you are. "
The attacker chuckled menacingly, drummed his fingers on the back of the chair. " Santa Claus, " he said. " I know you ' ve been bad, so instead of giving you presents, I ' m going to take things away. "
His meager hopes shrinking with each dark word from the stranger ' s mouth, Steve closed his eyes. " Please, " he groaned. " I don ' t want to die. Whatever I did wrong...I can fix it. I can...help you...make up for it. "
" Hah ! " barked the man, his voice suddenly erupting with anger. " You can ' t help me! You can ' t fix it! It ' s too late for that! " With an inarticulate cry of rage, he drove his fist like a hammer against the side of Steve ' s skull. " You missed your chance to help me! "
" Please ! " shrieked Steve Kimmel, tears rushing from his eyes, his face contorted with agony. " I ' ll do anything! "
" The only thing you can do to help me, " growled the man, " is die ! It won ' t make up for what you did , but at least it ' ll give me a good laugh! "
"
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