Friday, 6 December 2019

Targeted

He woke me up with a bucket of ice water, a few of them I think, given how soaked the ropes holding me in the chair were.

He then gestured to a corkboard on the wall, upon which was a mass of papers, photos, notes, string, the whole nine yards. I genuinely thought that sort of thing only existed in movies.

He then explained to me, in exacting detail, just how he knew I was behind all his pain and misery, that I was deliberately ruining his life.

He wasn't important enough to target, but I didn't tell him that.

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