The chain around Noemie's throat yanked her backward, the iron cuffs clinking behind her.
"NO, YOU BASTARD!" she screamed, struggling, blood from her scraped knees staining the beautiful floor.
"You cheated! You fucking cheated!"
Matteo stood just outside her reach, a wine glass in his hand, swirling the deep crimson liquid as if savoring her agony. His smile was cold, almost curious, like a child pulling the wings off a butterfly.
"Please..." Noemie's voice broke, softer now, desperate.
"I'll do whatever you say. Just help them.... Help my parents...."
Her knees buckled, but the chain snapped taut again, jerking her back. Tears blurred her vision. Matteo stepped closer, smirking, and without warning, poured the glass of wine on her body.
He crouched down, grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head up so that her tear-streaked face met his.
"Do you remember," he whispered, his breath hot against her trembling lips, "what you did to me?"
His eyes were wild ... a storm of hatred and twisted satisfaction.
"Now look at you... begging me. Begging." He chuckled darkly. "This... this is empathy, Noemie. Something you never showed me."
Her voice cracked as she shouted back.
"I ADMIT IT! I was cruel, I was an asshole! BUT DON'T TAKE IT OUT ON THEM! They're innocent!"
Matteo's grip tightened. For a moment, he just stared at her, so close their foreheads nearly touched.
"I don't care," he said.
Two simple words. Cold as a guillotine's kiss.
Noemie's body shook with violent sobs.
"Please," she whispered.
The word echoed, raw and broken, in the empty room.
Matteo stood, dragging his fingers through her hair like a man admiring a trophy.
Then, he turned away, humming softly as he went to the table.
He picked up something ... a short, black elastic stick. Flexible. Meant to hurt without leaving permanent marks. Perfect.
He twirled it lazily in his hand.
"I'll make you a deal," he said over his shoulder.
Noemie looked up, hope flickering in her bruised eyes.
"I'll hit you. Twenty times.
If you can endure them ..... without making a sound ... I'll help your parents."
The stick smacked softly into his palm with a sinister rhythm.
Noemie hesitated. For half a second, her lips parted to protest.
But then she thought of her parents.
Their faces. Their hands reaching for hers.
And she nodded.
"I accept," she whispered.
CUT TO: HOSPITAL ROOM
The beeping of the heart monitors filled the sterile air.
Her father — lay unconscious, pale as ghosts under the fluorescent lights.
A single green line pulsed on the monitor — steady, but fragile.
Each beep sounded almost.... like a countdown.
BACK TO: THE ROOM
The first strike came.
Swift. Whistling through the air.
It cracked against her back with a sickening slap.
Noemie's body convulsed ... but she bit her tongue, tasting blood.
One.
The monitor beeped.
The second strike. Harder.
Her shoulders jerked, bruises blooming under her skin.
Two.
Beep.
Third.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Tears streamed silently down her face.
Her whole body was trembling now, spasming in rhythm with the hits.
Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one synchronized with the beep, beep of the monitors miles away.
By the tenth blow, her lips were torn from biting down so hard.
Tiny sobs threatened to escape, but she crushed them in her chest.
For them.
For her parents.
Matteo's strikes became slower. More deliberate.
He savored her endurance, watched her eyes glaze with pain but not defeat.
When the fifteenth strike landed, Noemie's knees gave out. She collapsed on the stage .
Her body lay against the cold floor, her back exposed to Matteo. He then tore her clothing, revealing the mark on her beautiful back.
A quiet sob escaped her, but she remained silent.
Matteo walked to his chair and returned with an expensive bottle of wine.
He poured it over her back, completely drenching her.
CUT BACK TO: HOSPITAL
The monitor's beeps suddenly wavered.
A nurse looked up from her station, frowning.
The heart rate was unstable.
ROOM
Noemie squeezed her eyes shut, whispering inside her mind:
"I win. I win. Just a few more...."
Seventeenth.
Eighteenth.
Matteo leaned in, dragging the stick across her welted skin.
"You're almost there," he whispered.
Nineteenth.
Noemie's face lifted weakly, defiant through the blur of tears.
The final strike ..... the twentieth .... hit her squarely between her shoulders, sending an electric bolt of agony through her spine.
She gasped .... but no sound escaped.
She did it.
She raised her head.
Bloodied. Broken.
But victorious.
A trembling, triumphant smile flickered across her lips as she stared at Matteo.
"I did it," she rasped. "Now... help them..."
Matteo looked at her for a long, silent moment.
Then he smiled.
And said:
"I lied."