Chapter Eight II

In the four corners of a quiet dark room, every drop of crimson blood onto the clean white tile floor seems like a ticking clock to someone horribly tied in a chair, hands on his back while his swollen eyes were dropped on the floor, counting every drop of his blood. 

The thick blood streaming down to his body felt like a cold sweat out of working out too hard, but the only difference was he won't be dead from dehydration but his abductors' hands. 

"Who do you think you are huh? You piece of shit!" The man on his black patent shoe swayed his strong right leg and kicked Vincent's stomach with great force. 

He coughed blood, violently. 

The man forcibly grabbed Vladimir's face by jaw and positioned it to see his victim's swollen eyes. 

"You should know where you're pointing your gun into, kid," he murmured. 

Vladimir sarcastically chuckled despite feeling the pain in his abdomen. "If you think I'm scared of your b