Frida

I am standing in front of Theodore. He is tied up to a chair, his face is beaten and battered but he still has a smug look on his face.

“Do you remember Molly?” I ask him curtly.

“I’ve had plenty of whores in my time. Which one is she?” Theodore says.

I want to rip his balls out and then make him eat them.

But I take a deep breath and try to keep my composure. “She was the one you killed. The one whose family you destroyed,” I say through gritted teeth.

Theodore just ...