‘Fuck!’ Donnie screamed, the only way he could cope with the pain. He started to drift in and out of consciousness, his brain protecting him.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard a high-pitched sound. The shrill ringing of a doorbell. Knocking. Maybe someone had heard his cries and phoned the police.
‘Are you going to answer that fucking door?’ Cammy said, although his voice sounded muffled.
‘No,’ Susie replied. ‘It’ll be a cold caller.’
Then a phone rang from somewhere in the room as Donnie slumped to the side, almost falling from his chair and onto the floor.
‘Shit. It’s Layla.’
Donnie tried to open his eyes. If Layla was here, then maybe she could get help. Parting his lips to speak, Donnie made an attempt to call out to her, but Cammy’s hand fell across his mouth.
‘Unless you want to lose another finger, I’d suggest you keep that fucking mouth of yours shut, Donnie.’
Cammy’s breath was hot against his ear, his voice vibrating against his skin as he lifted Donnie’s hand once again before clamping another finger inside the pliers.
‘No. Please,’ Donnie said, feeling pathetic that he was begging, but desperate not to be put through the ordeal of losing another finger.
‘Then shut the fuck up.’
Donnie watched through heavy eyes as Susie headed out of the basement, closing the door quietly behind her.