Chapter 72 Poor Carish (Part One)

• Verónica refused to talk to me. She rejected the same plate I offered her ten times, handed to her by my security man. Do you know how that feels? That’s why I took out my anger on George Jeffrey. Given the fact that I didn’t trust myself to torture Carish even in her damn state. I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know what to think. Everything is possible and probable. I vividly remember the moment when that woman made me… Forced me to ejaculate inside her. I had never felt so defeated and humiliated in my life. And I was sure, even if I went to hell, that I would take her with me, that daughter of a bitch.
• George was tied to the hood of an old ’98 Mustang, his limbs bound, and sadly, he had no fingernails, not on his hands or feet. Poor thing.
• “DAMN IT, LET ME GO, FACE ME LIKE A MAN,” he still had the strength to shout. And I seriously considered the option that yes, he was a psychopath and felt nothing. I was sitting on a very old metal ladder. I had taken off my shirt a while ago and was running my hand through my hair when I heard him. I smiled with amusement and stood up.