Myles had gone at me for a few hours. When all he could get from me was the occasional laugh, he gave up and went for a walk.
He did nothing that Arthur hadn't already done to me as a teenager, as a child. What Myles had been doing was child's play compared to what I saw and experienced on a near daily basis.
I sat spitting blood, head pounding, fumbling with the cuffs on my wrists. I wish I had my knife or lockpick set, anything. I didn't know what this psycho wanted from me but he wasn't going to get it. Not like this.
Maybe I could make him see. He clearly idolized Arthur, wanted his empire, wanted to earn it. But he didn't know Arthur, never experienced his fist or his boot in his guts. He didn't know.
Myles didn't have the sadistic streak that Arthur had though, he hadn't even used any tools on me. No blades or anything. He just kept f*cking hitting me.