The Drowning Man
“Trent couldn’t remember the rest of the words to the nursery rhyme. Simple Simon. That was what Trent had come to call to the tall, scarred blond man now walking him back to his room. The bastard rarely said a word. Not to Caroline and not to him. A thick, white scar ran along the man’s right cheek from his nose to his ear. Most likely a knife wound. Trent was sure Simon had given his fair share of wounds over the years as well. He sure as hell had no problem beating the living shit out of Tren...t. Pain still radiated throughout his face from his busted nose.
“What? Can't you talk? Did the bitch cut out your tongue so you couldn't talk back to her?” Trent asked him now.
Simon's face showed no reaction but his fist quickly found Trent's stomach. Trent doubled over, gasping to catch his breath. Simon shoved him the rest of the way into the room and slammed the door shut. Trent heard the lock click into place.
Simon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he walked away.MoreLess
“What? Can't you talk? Did the bitch cut out your tongue so you couldn't talk back to her?” Trent asked him now.
Simon's face showed no reaction but his fist quickly found Trent's stomach. Trent doubled over, gasping to catch his breath. Simon shoved him the rest of the way into the room and slammed the door shut. Trent heard the lock click into place.
Simon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he walked away.MoreLess
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