Don’t Feed the Baby

Posted: October 12, 2012 in Uncategorized

Hung from the ceiling like a sleeping bag made of spider’s silk, Viktor struggled weakly against the ropes. His face was red and swollen with blood, his chest felt heavy like a bag of flour. Darting his eyes across the room, he took in the gravity of his situation. 95% chance of dying, 5% chance of breaking free, ripping the bed post off and bludgeoning his assailant with it. 1 in 20, not bad. Not great, but all things considered he’d staved off blacking out thus far, and wasn’t thrashing like a lunatic any longer. It might have helped to loosen the ropes, but he just didn’t have the physical stamina anymore. It had been almost 2 days since Viktor had eaten. His insides were rebelling against him, creating a situation that was far less pleasant to him than the situation he faced with the ropes. A situation that stunk and ached….he sighed. How the hell did he wind up in this predicament anyways? Grigory told him the money would be easy, just a quick drop-off and then it was off to the horse stables. Only the brown paper bag wasn’t waiting for him; the Swede was. And when he struggled to flicker open his eyelids, his view was the same as the one he saw now, one of a likely death.


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