|| ℜ𝔢𝔡 𝔗𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬 || navré + dan cody || mafia || ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀs: ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴ, ᴅʀᴜɢɢɪɴɢ, ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

Normally he stood about zero chance of overpowering her. She wasn't The Reaper, but she was certainly more adept at combat than him. He spent most of his time behind a screen. He took Muay Thai as a hobby, at best. However, she was drugged, beaten to death, and missing a finger. He liked his odds. "Oh, Owen, you stupid fuck. You don't have any fucking leverage right now. I know no one knows you're here. And I know you have nowhere else to go." From his pocket, he pulled out a long syringe and uncapped it, placing it on the table ominously.

"You're such a fucking tease, you know that? I save your life, I bring you into my home, and you think an IOU is going to fucking cut it. No, fuck you Owen." He began advancing toward her, until she was pushed against the wall. He faked a punch at her head, freaking her out and causing a reaction, before sending a hard knee into her gut, knocking all the air out of her. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the waist, using his superior size and surprise to spin her around, and wrapping his arm around her throat. He squeezed tightly, cutting her windpipe off completely.

Grunting from the effort he began whispering in her ear "Pretty soon you're going to run out of air. And if that happens, I'm going to tie you up a hell a lot better than The Reaper did, and you're not going to have a single bit of say in any of this. You try and kick me and I'll snap your fucking neck, Owen." He pulled her with him, dragging Owen by the windpipe to the table. He loosened the hold on her slightly, for just a second, allowing her a deep gasp of air. He was now against the foot of the sofa, her between his legs.

"Now listen very carefully, your freedom and life might count on it, Owen. You see that syringe? That's the rest of the aphrodisiac that was in your coffee, you fucking whore. That's why you're so fucking wet right now." His hand roamed down between her legs and his fingers rubbed aggresivley over her exposed sex. "Very slowly, you're going to grab the syringe and inject it into your leg." He gestured at her exposed legs. "You make a single fucking movement too fast, that I don't like, and I'm going to ruin your fucking life, got it? Play along and you can have the laptop, even."

He then put the pressure back on her windpipe, cutting her air off completely. "Tick tock. Inject the fucking syringe and I'll let you breathe," he grunted, pushing a few fingers into her for his own fun.
 
Needles always meant hospitals or transmittable disease; both were very real to her. It was the first thing she checked when she went in for inking. Disposable needles, sterile environment. Kim pulled this one out of his pocket and it was all a horror show for her, someone who knew risks inside out.

She really couldn't imagine someone like Kim really being violent, but something had come over him. As if her friend came out of sideways glances and the occasional lewd remark, to turn into biohazard and blackmail. Owen clawed at his hand when he squeezed her throat, pinching her eyes shut and crying through her teeth. The pain in her torso was exquisite and it blacked her vision and wrenched tears from her eyes, before pushed into her skin a firestorm of high-velocity glass shards. Nevermind that she had two open wounds. He must have bruised her with the knee too.

When he pulled her between his legs she was going into shock, shaking violently, gasping loudly as he let go. His fingers slid across her folds but rubbed her nearly raw, causing her to sob and twitch and reach out to grip whatever was closest to her; in this position, it was his leg. She buried her fingers into his calf and she felt like nothing. Taken apart again so quickly after she had run from her first tormentor.

He choked her before he let her answer anything. There was no negotiating on her end, and she was burning everywhere, all over, hurting. Needing to tell him that she was shaking too bad to hold a needle steady, every breath making her shudder from her shock system overwhelmed by the sensations on her body, the wounds, the dull force, the fucking ache between her legs.

Crying, she picked up the syringe with her right hand unsteadily, stretching out a soft, quivering thigh. She held the syringe with both hands, which caused her more pain than steadied her since Kim hadn't been particularly careful with the bandaging there. This will blend into what I'm already feeling, Owen believed. I will go to a doctor later, I have to. If I live. I'm going to live.

And the worst thing is that Owen was too rooted in reality all her life for the stress response of dissociation to kick in. It took very severe experiences before she'd start to dissociate, and usually she wouldn't unless things were rotten appropriately after seven years in hell. She always wondered what it would take to finally convince her body to let her detach and clam up somewhere black and cramped inside her head, somewhere like being buried alive. It took this: feeling an increasing surge of heat and ardour for her abuser, the only thing on her mind was to grind her cunt against something to release the ache. Words and coherent thought were all out of the window, and if he continued to fucking smirk and rub her like that, she could only roll her eyes back, loosen her jaw so that her mouth would take anything, spread her legs and arch her back moaning into her mouth. If she forgot her language an animal body spoke for her, and the animal body begged; while he mind screamed and gave up, and let her retreat, for once, into the black box to shy away.
 
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He grinned at how quickly they took effect. They weren't cheap, because they weren't your typical underground aphrodisiac. If you knew the right people, and had the right coin, you could find types with an instant kick and much higher potency than the normal kind. Her struggles grew less and less as the drugs took more and more effect. "There we go, now we've both drugged someone today," he added with a grin as his fingers pushed into her further. She was dripping wet already from the first round of drugs, he had no idea how desperate she must be from the second round.

His fingers left the inside of her, and his grip on her neck loosened enough to allow her short little gasps of air. "If you had just played along, I would have been nice. Now, you're going to fucking work for that laptop," he growled. Finally his hand touched cold steel and he pulled out a set of steel police cuffs. He reached out with his free hand and slapped the first half on her left wrist. It seemed her mind was far too gone to struggle properly, and he did so with ease. He took a deep breath - one last moment before he had her fully under his thumb. He let go of her throat and jumped to his feet in one go, spinning her around so that her stomach was against the carpet. He pulled her other hand behind her back and slapped the other side of the handcuff on it. "There we go, nice and immobile, like I want you."

He reached down and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking sharply upwards, without a care in the world for how hard he pulled. "Now I'm going to have to ruin one of my shirts for a chance at your tits, whore," he growled, before picking her up with both hands. He slung the girl over his shoulder with an audible grunt, and carried her to the bedroom. He threw her down on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm going to destroy you," he murmured, loud enough for her to hear.

He walked over to the dresser and grabbed his own pocket knife, switching the blade open. "Remember this? I'm not like your boyfriend, I don't give a fuck about slicing you up. I'm just going to use you till I'm bored of you," he said, before grabbing a fistful of the back of the shirt and slicing through it. He made a few more cuts and tossed the scraps to the side.

He began to undress himself, and noticed her leaking all over the sheets of the bed. "Beg for me to fuck you, and I might use your pussy, bitch. Else I'm going to see how tight that ass is, and I sure as hell won't be using lube." He grinned, already hard in front of her, his eyes glinting with lust. He reached down and massaged her folds again, roughly and with little care for how much pleasure she got from the sensation. This wasn't James carefully toying with pleasure and pain alike. This was a man deprived of a prize, taking advantage of every second he had her at his whims. He sent a hard, stinging slap against her ass, leaving a red print behind and the noise ringing out through the room. "Come on, speak up. Or I'm just going to keep you here like this for as long as I want, Owen. Drugged up chained up, and wet for me whenever I need something to stick my dick in." He grinned and looked down at the glistening of her sex. "Nah, I think you'd like that. Get on your knees, ass up, head in the pillows," he snapped his fingers and continued on "Else I'm going to spend some time beating you instead of fucking you, Owen."
 
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All that time together, and his cordiality in the past had really convinced Owen that Kim was a sleaze but otherwise a regular guy with a slightly lewd crush. No.

In that space in her head, she felt her body become a thing, not something that she could feel was alive any more. If she was confined here, she was willing to believe that there were souls in hell that felt less pain than she did. She let him cuff her, and felt the carpet, took in everything he said like background noise. It was a horrible feeling, to roil in disgust and fear when he says she'd have to fucking work for it but to feel so much desire slick between her legs, aching so much, hot and wet and burning with lust.

Whatever he chose to forcefully inject in her, it was strong, and Owen felt it claw at her mind, which didn't make sense, because aphrodisiacs didn't usually do that. This one, whatever devilish mix it was, it made her pupils dilate at the sight of Kim when he pulled at her hair roughly, even pulling out a good few strands, with that much force.

Your boyfriend clattered around in her already chaos struck mind. It was out of place in the previous night and the afternoon now, something of comfort and security. Kindness, to feed you when you starved. James had asked her about Antonio, that was what she should have said he was, to remove any doubt at all. Her boyfriend. Ex. Axed. Axed boyfriend. She even touched his brain. Owen had every reason to want to find out what happened as much as James did. Someone right beside the Reaper would not give street rats high paying jobs that his life also depended on if not out of intrinsic kindness, which didn't exist in Glass City, but out of, for lack of a better word, the romance that the ancients described so in their epics with the chill of the twilight, the touch, the bed of roses. With him gone, Owen was stuck in the thorn.

Dizzy, she saw that they were both naked. Owen's train of thought was heavily derailed when he touched her throbbing cunt, every stroke causing her to tear at the cuffs, metal digging into her skin, and arch her back violently, wincing with a high whine, going unheard under the sound of a slap and a hot sting. It pushed her to a sob again, a blackout kind of pain striking her head when she tears up, the sensation of it passing through the headache from earlier and triggering another bout of it. She couldn't do much else but fucking sob, and push herself, still shuddering from the shock of it all, into the position Kim demanded, her softest spots completely exposed to the afternoon. Owen wondered if his neighbours knew or if they'd call the police on the horror playing out. No; she was alone.
 
Kim smiled broadly as she followed orders, arching pleasantly against the bed, everything on display and accessible. He couldn't believe his own luck. Any other day and this all would have failed miserably. Owen was a tough, strong girl. Hell, she had managed to escape The Reaper. But here she was, at his total mercy, and drugged into being unbelievably turned on by the whole affair. Sure, he'd give her the laptop to justify his behavior, but really he was getting all this for practically nothing. He grinned and hopped on the bed behind her. His hands dug into the pale flesh of her ass, and pulled them apart, savoring every second. "Look at you, Owen. Dripping wet and I haven't even fucking touched you," he mused, his hands pulling back and sending several hard slaps against her ass. "James should have just fucked you. I'll rectify his mistake, I guess."

He was fully erect, and he lined his stiff member up against her dripping wet sex. Without waiting a second, he pushed inside of her in one quick thrust, Owen swallowing his entire length in one go. He groaned loudly, before pulling back, exiting completely from inside her. "I hope you're on the pill," he added offhandedly, before thrusting back fully inside of her, letting out another groan. He started thrusting at a regular pace, pushing as far into her as he could every time, his pace ruthless and not giving her a second of peace or tenderness. His hands dug into her ass, his nails nearly puncturing the skin as he pushed her face further down into the mattress.

His hand reached down and yanked her hair up, raising her body and making her look straight ahead with the amount of tension on his pull. "Come on, Owen. Tell me how much of a whore you are. How much you want this. I know you do," he grunted, yanking her hair harder to emphasize his point. His free hand sent a ringing slap against her ass, leaving a red print behind in its wake. "Come on, really beg. Or I'll try your ass out," he said with a laugh. To emphasize his point, his free hand roamed up to it and teased against the tight little rosebud. He might use it anyway, but he certainly wanted to hear the haughty girl beg.
 
Every slap made her wetter, it made her whimper. Thing was, in the brain, the parts for pain and pleasure were right over one another, almost like the parts of your brain responsible for what you felt during sex were also having sex with each other, that's why stimulating one sensation would immediately translate to the other because part one of your brain has his dick stuck in part two's face. His physical abuse made her curl her toes and ache around the lips of her sex, and his thrusts made her stomach twist, it made disgust mutate into another type of pain. She whined when he slid his entire length in, wheezing with a sob. Because of the drug, she couldn't fight the animal, it drew so many sweet, immoral sounds out of her.

She wasn't, and this would definitely need a trip to the doctor later, because of the fucker. She would demand that he paid for her but because he was such a bastard, and he knew it, he wouldn't do that. Whatever, she could pay for herself mighty well. Unlike this, she did real work before for real money and that alone would cushion some blows. People who didn't think money made people happy were stupid. Money sure as hell made it easier for you if you were in pain. The sting felt like her skin was breaking, the kind that left spotty rashes later, and she found it difficult to breathe with her face in the mattress especially if her nose was so clogged up from sobbing.

"Kim," she gripped at his sheets, tensing the fabric, and the end of her crying out his name was pinched and high. She was trying to say stop but it would sound on the outside, coupled with her back arching severely, more so from the position he was pulling her into by the hair, her thick warm flesh starting to tighten around his cock, it would all sound very much like she as whining his name, begging. She was sobbing no afterwards, over and over. She tightened her anus when he touched it, gritting her teeth, tearing up. "Stop," she cried. "Please," she hated how she sounded, so different from her usual composure, very nasal and high pitched, all to fucking beg.
 
The sounds that came out of her, and the way she said his name were enough for him. He wasn't too particular, and as her body pulsed around his length, he felt himself groaning pleasure. He had been thinking about this for as long as he had known her. He pushed her head back down into the bed and started increasing his pace, brutally fucking the young, pale girl. "That's a good girl. God, I love the way you moan. Who knew you were such a whore underneath all that? I should have fucked you when we first met, Owen. You would have loved it," he rambled on, getting off on his own ego. Sure, he had drugged her, but she was wet and eager and that was all that mattered to him.

He sent another couple of slaps against her ass, and then his finger pushed into her tightest hole, just the tip, as he worked away at it. "Fuck you're tight. I think I might ruin you if I put my dick in there," he said with a smirk, before groaning again. He pushed his finger all the way in, before pulling it out completely, enjoying every second of her reaction.

Then, without warning, he pulled out of her and yanked her by the hair to the ground, so that she was forced onto her knees in some fashion. He scooted to the edge of the bed and looked down at her with a wolfish expression. "You've got a couple options. You can either blow me right now, or I'm going to push you down on that carpet and fuck your ass till I blow a load in it. Either way, I'm going to enjoy myself. What's it gonna be, Owen, you fucking slut?"
 
I should have knocked your teeth in when we first met. She managed to say it between pants, between whimpers, the insult like a shipwreck breaking to the shore. Love drugs couldn't hold back hatred this deep. And his groan made her animal quiver and tighten again while she lets loose another guttural moan. She twitched with his finger inside her ass, biting into the sheets, feeling the dry fabric pasting against her tongue but also quickly wetting it with her mouth, the dry cloth his brutal fucking making her start to salivate. He pulled out of her which made her wince, her back still stiffly arched and completely in pain.

She panted, forced on her knees, which were starting to rub red quick, pink against her pale thighs, at least until her ass, which was as burning red as her face now. There was a sheen of sweat on her, because work her he did, her body felt the exertion well.

Owen looked only slightly better than someone who'd just been run over by a car, with a trail of drool running down a side of her mouth from earlier as she stared at his arrogant, hard cock. Pinching her eyes shut, she slackened her jaw, in defeat, her hands were cuffed, she could only lean in in surrender, as she wrapped her mouth around him, another red, wet set of lips that was coarser on the outside but smoother on the inside, thinner somewhat. She pumped her head slowly, disgusted enough to do it with pressure because she had to stop herself from just biting down on it. She wasn't thinking anymore, just living and existing on hatred, but the move would feel slow, hard, tantalising to him.
 
Kim leaned back on his forearms and groaned. She was doing a fantastic job, whether she meant to or not. "That's what I thought. You might wanna knock my teeth in, but we both know who's fucking in charge here," Kim said arrogantly, his eyes rolling back in his head. His hand reached down and grabbed a chunk of her hair, forcefully again, and guided her mouth along his length at a slightly faster pace, though it was still a slow burn. "Come on, you pale-ass fucking whore, you can do better than that. We both know you gave Antoine better head than that." He chuckled at his own insult.

His hand nestled itself in her hair deeper and started to increase the pace, forcing her deeper and deeper on his length, without regard for her breathing. "Come on, Owen. You sure as hell can't hack it as a fucking criminal, let's see you pick up some skills you might actually use," he added with another laugh, before forcing her all the way down on his member, eliciting a mixture of sputtering and choking from his victim. He groaned at the sensation, enjoying the complete control and power he had over her, every second of pure bliss.

He continued this way for a little while, occasionally letting Owen gasp for breath before stuffing her mouth again. Then, finally, as he started to feel himself get close to the edge, he pulled her head away and grinned down at her. "You aren't getting a laptop that fucking easy." He grabbed her and pushed her over the bed, so that she was now bent at the waist over it. Kim sent a hard slap over her ass, only deepening the redness that had developed. Then, without waiting, he pushed back into her sopping wet sex, his pace fast and rough and without regard for her body at all. "Moan for me, slut. I'm going to finish in you."
 
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Owen continued, just wanting it to all be over, so she found herself going particularly hard and fast on his cock, pinching onto his tip with her lips, rolling her surprisingly agile tongue over the head then around the foreskin then up and down the top of the shaft as she rubbed the bottom with a hand. And he bet she did, she thought bitterly. He should get a mediocre one at most really, but the sad bastard probably would feel like it was good because he was so deprived.

She did sputter and choke but his swift mouth fucking made her wetter for whatever reason, and she moaned sharply between muffled mouthfuls. His groan made her touch herself, half-mad by it all at this point. She would breathe with a desperate gasp for air that was filled with nothing but his sour scent. For her every second was worse than the headache, and when he grabbed her and pushed her to the bed she felt her vision black out, her head dangerously light, but grit her teeth and tried to stay conscious however much pain she was in because if he fucked her lights out it would've made him get off to no end, and he couldn't get that at all.

The spank made the headache crackle in her head again, showing her blooming colours while she continued with hacking, coughing, hard sounds against soft snivelling. She arched her back when he slid into her, and she was thick and tight with lust. At his speed and intensity she was slippery and loud, moaning with the sound of people getting injured, of girls falling off bikes or stepping into drains are cracking their ankles. He had degraded her to no end, the look on his face so punchable of only she could reach him, if only she wasn't cuffed and taking a hard, fast, abusive round of dick and desperate for release.
 
He pushed faster and deeper. She felt fucking amazing, her sex tight and wet, and her body firm in all the right away and soft in all the others. If he could have gotten away with keeping her around, he would have. As it was, he had the twofold danger of both The Reaper and of Owen getting loose and slitting his throat. He wasn't sure if he had enough drugs to keep her sedated for that sort of idea. No, he would enjoy his night with her, give her the laptop he promised, and end their relationship. She was useless to him professionally and likely dead after The Reaper caught her. He pushed deeper inside her, his hands now gripping her hips tightly, occasionally leaving to give a hard spank against her pale ass. "Fuck, you feel good," he groaned to no one in particular.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. His pace continued to get more erratic and desperate as he approached a cliff, his body spasming slightly as he continued to pound away at her. "Come on, I'm close. I'm going to fucking fill you up and then you can have your laptop, you fucking whore," he grunted as he started to lose control.

Finally, he felt himself reach the edge and his eyes rolled back in his head. He gripped her hips tighter, his nails digging into her flesh, his knuckles protruding from the effort. He groaned and let loose entirely, pushing his length fully in her as he unloaded in her sopping wet sex. He spasmed for a good 15 seconds as he shot rope after rope of cum inside of her. He let out one final groan before pulling out and collapsing on the bed.

"God damn Owen," he murmured, taking a deep breath. "I'd take the cuffs off, but I'm sure you'd try and hit me," he added.
 
Owen was suffocating on the inside. He was rocking her whole body, sinking his claim into her softest, most vulnerable spots and for how it felt it could've been a knife. Could've been worse if she wasn't hot and wet from chemical lust. It had been years since she cried this hard, years since she felt like she was putting her foot in a bear trap wherever she stepped. Having either knives or needles against her. The skin around her ass and between her legs burned. She was shaking violently, properly and finally going into shock. And the worst part was that all that included her own decisions; like this, how she had the needle from her own hand.

Maybe her old caretaker at the orphanage was right while he slid his fingers through her hair and she shivered because he'd stripped her naked too. Right that she was too pretty to be out on her own anywhere. Even back then she ran out anyway, to find that the rest of the world was exactly like the battered brick building she wanted to run from.

Brick. Rough and red. That was all her right now. Kim's dirty talking and thrusting and brutal lust, and the cathartic shock that finally arrived finally let her shake from both the contractions between her legs and from shock, her hardened body finally diving into white fear. The highest point of physical, shuddering shock. He came while she was close, and she groaned, mindless; it was unbearable and she rocked against him before he pulled out, and shuddered even harder when he did, only halfway through her own peak. The bed sank under his weight as he collapsed beside her.

Owen wouldn't lie down beside her rapist. She pushed herself up, shaking so hard she thought she'd lose her balance and throw herself off the bed. She lowered herself to sit at the edge, not trusting herself to stand under her own weight right now. She smelled filthy. Her face glinted with her crying, her back with sweat, her thighs with cum.

"I need water," she muttered after a while, without looking at him. She couldn't.

Kim kept himself from dozing off, resurfacing back to wakefulness at her speech. He thought it was cute, to see Owen meek and ashamed. He had been about to fall asleep but he sighed, got up, put his clothes on, and filled her an unfiltered glass from his sink. He held it to her, sleepy, but after a while realised that her blank, slightly hostile stare at him wasn't hostility. Her hands were still cuffed and she couldn't take the glass.

"Right," he sighed.

Kim fed her. He quite liked that too. She drank it in gulps. "Mm, would've been more satisfied if you sucked on me as desperately as that," he said, fantasising some more, his depravity endless.

I'll hurt you, Owen thought, gritting her teeth as he set the empty cup aside. Kim did not regret keeping her cuffs on. He could sneak more snacking out of this. He moved to sit beside her and nuzzled into her neck. Owen hissed.

"Poor baby," he purred. "You'll be ashamed to go to the police, I hope." He slid a finger between her still glistening lips, and it sent a jolt back through her, still sensitive from both the drug and the not-quite-there climax. He rubbed her into arching her back again but was disappointed to find that she didn't make a single sound, just gritted her teeth. Whatever. He stopped when his wrist threatened to cramp.

Kim's bed would not fit 2 people sleeping. He'd have to kick her out. He said something like this to Owen, while he slipped a shirt back on.

"Here," he rummaged around for his old spare laptop, pulled out the memory chip, essentially rendering it an empty metal box. The rich fuck bragging about her money, she can buy her own card later. Preferably from him. "I can sell you the card if you need it."

"Yeah."

"Okay, give me your credit card number."

"I don't remember it. It's in my bag though."

Kim thought she was bullshitting him. Owen was smart, she had a head for numbers especially. She wouldn't stop showing the fuck off when he needed someone to fix his code. But he humoured her. It was the least he could do, really, maybe his fucking scrambled up her brain too. He went to the living room to unzip and search her bag. Its contents were messy. She didn't even have a wallet and there was certainly no card.

"Where the fuck is it?" he exhales, giving her an exasperated look.

"Kim, my bag has literally one fucking compartment. It's in there."

She was getting some of her thinking back. There's very little thought in it, except that it needed out of the cuffs. Oh, the brain was very frugal with thinking when the body was wrecked and needed to get out of here.

"No it's not, Owen."

"Let me look. Just take these off."

"Nope, you're gonna hit me."

"Don't be such a child, Kim. I don't do playground brawling."

Indignity was the worse reason to endanger oneself for but Kim hated the living shit out of being called a kid (and implicitly, a coward). And he could be feeling particularly achieved after his advancement. He looked at her stained bandages -- she had to be quite injured still. He clicked them off her. She was still sitting at the very edge. He thought about the wet spot she must leave on his sheet there. When she stood up and grabbed her clothes, making for the toilet, he lay across his bed on his stomach, held the sheet up to his nose and took in her scent, mixed with his. He heard the water run in his toilet as he breathed. The water stopped, the house going completely quiet. Owen picked up a box of floss from his sink and it whirred as she pulled it out, twisting up the entirety of its length tightly, then packing it back it.
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Now her good drug kicked her into action when she thought about hurting him. This much adrenaline might knock her out but she hoped she'd get him before it did. She liked to think out her fighting odds, usually, but she was angry enough to throw herself into a gamble.

And he was sleepy from his climax. Kim watched her come back in but press up right in front of him. Now if she was still doing this the drug was truly impressive. Completely reducing her to a mindless slut.

Behind him, Owen had been groping for the cuffs, and she found them. Then all his nightmares started playing out. She brought a knee up between his legs and as he doubled over, putting his hands together nicely in front of him. She slapped the cuffs on one then put the other side to the leg of the bed; kicked him near one corner of his bed then she put the cuffs on his wrists, pulling the short-chain around the leg of the bed. He was pressed into a crouch, groaning. Owen wrapped the floss around his neck once, making a knot that would tighten if she pulled but not slide back, a bit like a plastic strip lock, except it was much, much thinner and it shouldn't break that easy after she's twisted it.

She pulled once, and hard. Kim let out a tortured cry.

"Something this thin is sharp, Kim. I can pull it around and maybe it will work like a cutting wire."

"Let me go," he rasped, wincing.

"No. And I really don't know why people bother to say that, really," she mused, her face flat.

"What do you want?"

Owen had walked out of the room by then, going to his kitchen. She reached for the cutlery and her fingers brushed the hilt of a knife, before picking up a fork, before she walks back into the room, setting it down ominously on his desk.

"Well, you can start with a memory card."

"Second desk drawer on the left."

"Thanks."

Owen shuffled around some boxes and found it. She picked up the white cord of the floss and twisted one end casually around her little finger, then spent some time putting the laptop together, taking as much material as she needed from Kim. She turned it on. Might as well use his wifi while she was here, to at least get what she needed. She restored most of her old stuff, then uploaded a mask over her IP address and logged onto the network for contract killers. They kept private logs of all their orders, and Owen tapped into those, running a search for Antonio's name. She'd thought about doing this before Oyama showed up at her door, and believed that if they were going to look anywhere, the best bet would be here. No one by a professional would have been able to take Antonio out. A loading bar came up. Owen turned up another tab to book herself a room in a motel nearby for tonight, then put the laptop to sleep, then slid it into her bag. Kim's wifi was great; it'd be done by the time she did one last thing.

She picked up the fork then went to straddle his neck, sitting on his back but putting weight on his head so that he'd be pinned to the ground. She turned up his inner forearm and held the tips of her fingers over his skin.

"I'm going to hurt you. For a long time," she whispered in his ear. "Or I wouldn't let myself sleep at night."

She brought a prong of the fork pressing into his skin and Kim's eyes widened, realising what she was about to do. Owen didn't think he deserved to be marked with a knife; the sharpness didn't suit how crude he is. She pushed it down, with some effort, holding his skin taut with her other hand so that she was able to cut lines into him. It was a confession in capital letters. 'Rapist', it said. No, he cried through the whole thing. For a while, she empathised because he sounded a little like she did, but it was a very short while.

It was jagged and nearly illegible from a distance, but would be unmistakable up close; though it was good enough for her that it would be very visible unless he wanted to dress like a prude for the rest of his life. A permanent mark. Owen herself hasn't got any special tattoos on herself before; most of it a decorative wash of black to cover up bad marks abusers leave behind. Marks that she didn't want to see again. Kim's would be a fresh, red tattoo for a while, then turn pink and ugly later. And it might not even scar him as much as he'd scarred her.

Owen left him shaking violently and went out without locking the door behind her; so that he can scream for help if he wanted to later. She walked to the nearby motel she booked, feeling numb, her soreness starting to settle in. She couldn't tell if it was because of the blinding afternoon light, but the sides of her vision was blacking out. The rest was a blur -- picking up keys in a small lobby, washing up, then connecting her laptop back to the network to check for search results. She lazily sent in spyware to record Kim's screen and kept that open on another tab before she dozed off, the white-blue light of the laptop screen pushing the shadow away from one half of her face.
 
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