RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 88: FRIDA -

"Ahhh, I don’t feel safe with this fucking bitch in here," one of the men groaned as they carelessly tossed her unconscious body onto the cold floor.

"Why don’t we just fucking kill her now while she’s out?" another suggested, wincing as they dragged her limp form into a chair.

"Of all the damn women to mess with this year, why her?" the first man groaned, pacing in agitation.

Jeff took a slow drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him before exhaling lazily. "What can I say? The Master must be... bored."

He sighed, his gaze lingering on the helpless woman now bound in the cold metal chair, her head slumped forward.

"Did you see that son of a bitch?" Jeff asked, breaking the silence.

The man who had driven her there shrugged. "Only a glimpse," he muttered, his voice low. "But yeah, he’s as scary as they say... a fucking psycho like the rest of his kind." He downed a swing of his drink, his hands trembling slightly. "Even while looking at the woman he claims, he looked... sick. I could feel it in his gait. That one’s dangerous."

Jeff chuckled, then sneered. "What? You gonna run away like a fucking coward now?"

The man’s jaw tightened, and he sent Jeff a glare. "I was the only one brave enough to grab the goddamn wench. You should be thanking me."

Jeff clapped mockingly, a crooked smile spreading across his face. "Oh, hail Ego! The fearless one. Someone get him a crown for his noble deed!"

Ego shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, then spat, "Whatever."

Sniper cracked his neck, his sharp eyes flicking toward Jeff. Jeff shook his head, a sly grin playing on his lips as Frida stirred.

Things were about to get interesting.

----

She woke up with her mouth tied up in a white cloth, bound to a chair with heavy cuffs.

She remembered being with Laz, the last thing she saw was Laz.

She had entered the cab, certain it was heading in the right direction. Everything seemed normal, but then it hit her, a wave of dizziness, followed by an overwhelming drowsiness. That was unusual. She suffered from extreme insomnia; sleep never came this easily.

Yet somehow, she had fallen asleep.

And now, she was here.

Her head pounded as though she’d been hit by a train, and the metallic taste of blood lingered in her mouth. The room was unfamiliar, dark, and suffocatingly thick with cigarette smoke.

Dim lights barely illuminated the warehouse, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Around her, thirteen men sat, each nursing cheap beer that reeked like gasoline. Their laughter and guttural voices filled the space, making her stomach churn.

Frida’s heart raced, her mind desperate for answers. How did I get here? Where am I? What the hell is going on?

"Jeff, the bitch is awake," one of the men grunted, breaking the haze.

Jeff, seated at the center like a twisted king on his throne, chuckled as he lit a fresh cigar. He tossed the smoldering butt in her direction, and the embers landed on her top, burning through the fabric. She winced but bit back a scream.

"About damn time," Jeff drawled, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "It was no fun with her asleep."

He gestured lazily, and another man yanked the cloth from her mouth. She gasped for air.

"Please...please, you’ve got the wrong girl," Frida stammered, her voice trembling. "I’m a medical student. I don’t know what’s going on. Please, let me go—"

Her words were cut off by a chorus of cruel laughter.

"Wasn’t she the Master’s favorite bitch?" one sneered.

"Yeah, I heard she killed thirty," another chimed in, only to choke on his drink when Jeff shot him a warning glare.

"Enough," Jeff barked, his voice cold and commanding. His piercing eyes settled on Frida, silencing the others.

"What’s with that innocent look on your face?" one of the men jeered, leaning closer. "Like you’ve never seen a man’s prick before!"

Frida recoiled, her tears flowing freely now. She needed to escape, but she knew she couldn’t show weakness.

"Please, if it’s money you want, my parents, they’re rich! They can pay you anything! Just please, don’t hurt me!" she begged, her voice cracking.

"Aww, poor little thing doesn’t want to play," another sneered.

"Then why are you hanging out with that cunt, Laziel?" one of them spat, venom dripping from his words. "I’ll ask once...where is he?"

Frida froze. They knew about Laz. Her mind raced. She had to protect him.

"I-I don’t know who you’re talking about!" she stuttered, her voice barely audible.

Jeff rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then laughed, a cold, chilling sound. He leaned forward and slapped her across the face.

The force sent her chair tipping sideways. Her head slammed into the floor, and she groaned as her vision blurred. "What is he to you?" He snarled as she shook her head.

"Don’t lie to me, girl," he said, his tone devoid of humor.

Blood trickled from her mouth as she struggled to sit upright. Her ears rang from the blow.

"You don’t know Laziel?" one man asked mockingly, carving into an apple with a knife. He pointed at his scarred eye. "Because I could’ve sworn you two were friends. That bastard took my eye."

He took a bite of the apple, chewing slowly as he leaned closer. "Maybe I’ll return the favor. Carve out your eyes and send them to him. What do you think?"

Frida swallowed hard, panic clawing at her chest.

"I d-don’t know him! Please, you’ve got the wrong person—"

Another slap cut her off, harder this time. Blood sprayed from her mouth, and she gasped, spitting out the metallic liquid.

"What did the Master say again?" one of them asked Jeff.

"Torture her slowly," Jeff replied with a wicked grin.

"Careful not to wake up Shelly," Jeff warned darkly. "That bitch is locked up tight in her little prison, and I intend to keep it that way."

The men laughed as the blows continued. Her vision blurred with every hit, her cheeks swollen and bruised, her breaths shallow. She didn’t know how much more her body could take.

As her consciousness wavered, fragments of a memory surfaced...

... a faint whisper from the year 2010...

A year of hell.