Chapter 36: The Cruel Game of torture

"Pumpkin?" The man in black called out to his partner, the lady in black.

"Yes, my love?"

"Could you please enlighten me with your definition of torture?"

"Torture is the malevolent act of inflicting excruciating pain or suffering upon someone as a form of punishment or coercion, aiming to extract information or compliance," the lady in black replied with a sly grin.

She held a peculiar device in her hand, and upon noticing Mr. Woods's gaze fixed upon her, she smirked and whispered, "Don't concern yourself with me; it's him you should fear." Slowly, Mr. Woods lifted his gaze to meet the piercing eyes of the man in black.

"Do you hear that, Mr. Woods? This isn't torture; it is merely the prelude. Starving you and binding you is just the prologue to true torment. So, tell me, Mr. Woods, what is your deepest fear?" the man in black inquired, yet Mr. Woods remained silent. Why would he ever reveal such vulnerabilities?

"Are you afraid of death? Well, if you ponder it, fear of death is universal. How about... oh, watching everything you have built throughout your life crumble and disintegrate, or clutching the lifeless body of someone dear to your heart? It's a harrowing and truly terrifying experience," the man in black mused, his beady black eyes gleaming with malice.

"You're a deranged psychopath," Mr. Woods spat.

"And you, Mr. Woods, are the saint among us?" the man retorted, provoking laughter from the lady in black. "Ah, our beloved Saint Mr. Woods," she mockingly jeered.

"Now, before we begin, I shall ask you one last time: What was the motive behind Mr. Macklin's unfortunate incident?"

Mr. Woods remained silent, his gaze drifting into emptiness.

"Speak!" the man in black bellowed, devoid of any warmth in his voice.

"I know nothing about Steve Macklin's accident," Mr. Woods replied, his voice low, his throat parched, and his body weakened from the lack of sustenance and water.

The man in black licked his thin lower lip and sighed.

"Then, do not hold me accountable for what follows," the man in black declared as he meticulously donned a pair of ebony gloves. He retrieved a glass case from his obsidian bag, containing spiders of the darkest hue.

Mr. Woods observed with growing dread, wondering what unspeakable horrors awaited him.

"Darling, could you remind me, please, what arachnophobia entails?" the man in black requested, turning to his accomplice.

"Fear of spiders," she replied with a hint of sadistic amusement.

"Ah, yes, the fear of spiders," the man acknowledged with a chilling smile that could haunt one's nightmares. "This particular breed is known as Latrodectus mactans, commonly referred to as the black widow," he explained, referring to the spiders within the case. With calculated precision, he delicately placed one upon Mr. Woods's bare chest, having previously removed his shirt.

Panic engulfed Mr. Woods. He attempted to shake off the arachnid, thrashing his arms and legs in futile resistance. Bound to the chair, the ropes constricted him, exacerbating his agony. Helplessly, he watched as the spider embarked on its treacherous crawl up his body.

The man in black chuckled, selecting another spider and gently situating it upon Mr. Woods's face. One spider on the arm, another on the shoulder—a macabre symphony of torment orchestrated by the sadistic duo.

"If I were you, Mr. Woods, I would remain perfectly still. Once these spiders realize they are no longer confined within their glass sanctuary, well, let's just say it won't be a pleasant experience," the man in black warned, his voice dripping with sadistic delight. With that, he and his partner, the lady in black, turned and left Mr. Woods behind, despite his desperate pleas and agonized cries.

What ensued after their departure were muffled screams of anguish, drowned by the searing pain and torment inflicted by the spiders' venomous fangs sinking into Mr. Woods's flesh.