I picked the pieces of myself up and threw them into a pile on the couch. It would be a waste to start being cooperative now. I mean, if I gave up anything now, it would have made the whole beating pointless.
My world was ringing and I couldn’t understand the Nazi bastard. Excuse me, the thin Nazi bastard. I could understand the large one just fine. He was using sign language. I tried to wave him off. I pulled back a sprained, all but broken finger.
The thin one threw me my pants and I pulled them on. Not because he said so, but for my own reasons.
They spoke in German. I don’t know German but I think they said “Let’s take him out back and show him our nice trunk.” I know this because I was now in their very spacious trunk. I tried to count the turns, to figure out where they were taking me. It felt like we took 17 consecutive right turns. That couldn’t have been right.
No comments:
Post a Comment