I did just that.
Kane received whippings and shock treatments from Philip... but why? The more I thought about it, the more the answer became clear to me.
“Y-you tortured him into becomin’ a weapon for you?” I asked, my voice so low I didn’t know if Big Phil heard me.
“Yes and no,” he replied.
I looked at him. “What does that mean?”
“At first when Kane received a whipping, it was punishment, not torture.”
I snarled at him. “Punishment for what?”
I didn’t want to ask that question, but I had to know.
“Kane was the man to go in and hurt someone who fucked me or Marco over. Let’s say a man owed some money for product, but he didn’t have any money to pay for it. Kane wouldn’t hurt him, he would hurt his loved ones until payment was received. He only ever hurt the person in question, sometimes killed them, if nothing would come for simply hurting them.”
I felt tears well up in my eyes.
“If he did all that, then why would he be punished?”
Philip smirked. “He didn’t like hurting the kids and woman of the scumbags he had to extract payment from. For every refusal, he received a whipping.”
“But he has hundreds of scars!” I bellowed.
Philip chuckled, “Why do you think I said we switched to shock treatment when whipping him became ineffective?”
I wanted to vomit.
“He looks like a monster, but inside, he is actually a nice guy, which sucks for him because no one will stay with him longer than a few hours. He is pretty fucked up, you know?”
I spat in Philip’s direction. “I’m with him. I love him.”
“And he loves you,” he replied rubbing his shoe against my side table to wipe my spit off, “and that is exactly why killing you will break him.”
I stopped breathing.
“You... you’re goin’ to kill me?”
Philip smiled at me. “Yes, I am.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Kane let my son burn to death, so I’m returning the favour.”
I widened my eyes to the point of pain.
Philip’s son was the person Kane locked in a room that was on fire?
I shook my head clear and focused on the main point of what he said. “What do you mean burn?” I screamed.
Philip stood up and retrieved a plastic bottle from his coat pocket—I guessed it to be a seven hundred and fifty millilitre bottle. He uncapped the bottle and began to squirt the liquid around the room.
I gripped my knee as Philip moved over to my storage press. He opened the door and pulled out numerous books and boxes of blank paper. He kicked the lids off the boxes of paper, picked up handfuls and threw them around the room. He then squirted more of the strong smelling liquid on the paper.
My insides churned and panic set in when he reached into his pocket and took out a silver lighter. He swiped it against his thigh and stared at the flame he created.
“He killed my kid,” Philip said as he stared at the dancing flame then flicked his eyes to me, “so I’m killing his and his girl. He’ll know what it feels like times two. I’m not going to kill him, but I’m going to cause him so much hurt that he wishes he was dead.”
He threw the lighter on the desk closest to mine and the desk instantly went up in flames thanks to whatever liquid he poured on it. The flames spread around the room. Wherever the liquid was squirted, a flame was there.
I looked around my room and screamed. I couldn’t see a thing through the flames and the growing thick black smoke.
I heard a door slam so I looked back to where Big Phil was stood seconds ago, but he wasn’t there. Through the flames I saw my classroom door was closed so I screamed as loud as I could for him to come back for me, but he didn’t.
He left me to burn.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stood up off my chair and tried to walk towards my classroom door. When I put weight on my injured leg, I instantly fell to the ground, hitting the floor hard. I screamed so loud as the blinding pain took control of my leg. I began to cough then, and that snapped me back to reality.
I was going to burn to death.
The thought alone spurred me on. I used my good leg to push against the floor while I used my hands to pull myself. I felt around for my bag with every inch I gained, and I eventually grabbed the strap of it.
I coughed as I dug through it and fumbled with my phone as I gripped onto it with shaking hands. I couldn’t see the screen because my eyes stung so bad and blurred with the mixture of my tears and smoke that filled them.