Never Not Ask Why
His world spirals downward as he spins, his stomach lurching from within and the contents rush forward, up his throat and into his mouth. He desperately tightens his lips, trying to stop the vomit from escaping, but it explodes through his nose, burning the inside of his face and forcing his mouth open. The vomit follows him as he spins, like a trail left from a comet, until he eventually hits the floor.
He lies there in shock, vomit almost covering him from head to toe. But of course, it’s not the amount of vomit that causes the worst discomfort—it’s the smell. Gathering all the energy he can muster, he gets up from the floor screaming, as he rips the clothes from his body, desperately trying to be rid of the odour that invades his burning face. Soon, he stands naked in silence, breathing heavily, his eyes wide like a madman lost in the depths of madness. The sound of clapping breaks the silence, and he quickly turns to face the applauding audience.
“You!” he hisses.
“Who else did you expect? The lovely Contessa?” the woman says.
“What did you do to her?” he yells, but her only reply is laughter.
“Oh, I’m sorry Herbert, put something on, please. It’s hard to take you seriously fully clothed, but now, like this—well, I doubt you’ll find any answers you want dressed like that,” she says with a wicked smile, running her tongue over her lips.
His cheeks glow bright red with embarrassment. Quickly, he grabs his soiled clothing from the ground and uses them to cover his genitals.
“Don’t try and change the subject. What have you done to HER?” he asks commandingly.
“The question should really be, what haven’t I done to her.”
“STOP IT!” he yells. “I played your games. I did everything you asked, killed those people without question. Now fulfil the agreement, do what you swore you would, and then leave me be. I owe you nothing, not ANYMORE!”
“Of course, you’re right, our wager is now complete, so worry not about your lady love. She is where you left her. I have no need to harm her, as she is of no use to me anymore—just like you,” she says with a smile.
He laughs this time, displaying a cheesy grin. “Don’t try scaring me, Lillian. I know you can’t hurt me,” he steps towards her proudly. “I have to survive, I must survive. It’s something to do with the balance of the chi-Ti-ak, your silly little gemstone of power—whatever the fuck it is your people worship.”
“Well, I’m impressed, you familiarised yourself with my people’s customs—bravo. But before I go, I do have one question I’d like you to answer for me,” she asks.
“If it’ll ensure your speedy disappearance, ask me and then get the hell out of my face,” he says, victory finally in his grasp.
She smiles and bows in agreeance. “When we first made our deal, and now knowing how the balance of the chi-Ti-ak works, don’t you wonder why I asked you to kill those two lovers fleeing town?” His smile slowly drops, and he goes pale as the blood runs from his face, as he realises, victory was never his to have.
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