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turning green as well.  Prez, on the other hand, looks unfazed.
    “This way.”  We follow Prez across the dirt ground until he enters through another door.  He closes it behind us.  I grind my teeth to stop from making a reaction to the sight before me.
    The man’s arms are raised above his head and he is hanging from the rafters.  His top half is bare and covered in gashes.  His face is a beaten to a pulp and blood drops from him onto the floor below, creating a muddy puddle.
    Prez walks forward casually and stops in front of the man, while Rad and I hang back.
    “Brothers, this is Mickey.”  He picks up a rusty blade from the dirty wooden ledge beside Mickey and examines it.  “Now, Mickey, are you going to give us the information we need?”
    Mickey spits a wad of blood at Prez’s face.
    Stupid fucking idiot.
    Rad nudges me and when I look at him, he lifts his chin.  I follow Rad’s line of sight up Mickey’s arms until I reach his wrists.  Fucking Christ.   He’s hanging by thick hooks that have been punctured through his wrists.
    “That’s gotta be painful,” I mutter to Rad.
    “You’ve got to be the stupidest fuck I know, Mickey,” Prez informs him before sinking the blade into his side.
    Mickey roars in pain and thrashes about before quickly stopping himself, no doubt because the hooks are causing him more agony than the stab wound.
    “Fuck you, cunt,” Mickey shouts as Prez drives the blade in in exactly the same spot on the opposite side of his body.
    “Fucking prick. I ain’t telling you shit, motherfucker,” Mickey roars.
    This dude really is fucking stupid.
    “Hand me the pliers,” Prez says. 
    I step forward and hand him the dirty tool.  He takes them and then says, “Hold his head.”
    Fuck!
    With no other option, I walk around behind Mickey and grab his head, holding him still.
    He growls, a mixture of frustration and pain. 
    “Rad, get over here and make yaself useful,” Prez commands.
    With Rad holding Mickey’s mouth open, and me holding his head still, Prez begins pulling his teeth out, one by one, with the pliers.
    Mickey screams and coughs, choking on his own blood, but Prez doesn’t let up.  He keeps going until Mickey has passed out from the pain, hanging limp from the hooks, and all his teeth are missing from his head, littered on the dirt ground below us.
    Twenty minutes later, Mickey starts moaning and groaning as he comes to.  Prez immediately walks over to him and begins slapping his face, eager for him rouse quicker.
    “You going to give me that information yet?”
    “You’ll have to kill me first.  You’ll never get anything from me.”
    Prez gives him a calculating look before calling out, “Rad, hold his head.”
    Rad does as he is told.  Prez picks up a knife, and without any preamble, he brings it to Mickey’s face and digs one of his eyes out.
    Fucking shit.   I wish I could just take Landon motherfucking Flay out right now.  Just pop a bullet through his skull.  But I know it isn’t possible, and while this goes against everything I know, I have to play my part.  I have to keep my shit together.  I have to.
    I concentrate on not losing my food all over the ground. 
    “Was sick of you looking at me anyways,” Prez says snidely, as he tosses the eyeball across the room.
    Mickey makes a garbled sound, but he is in too much pain to form proper words.
    “Might cut your cock off next,” Prez muses.  “Or, maybe, since you ain’t talking, I’ll cut your tongue out.  Matter o’ fact, I might just work my way down your body, cutting out and chopping off everything I can.  Once I’ve finished on the outside, I’ll gut you like a pig,” he threatens.  “But I’ll do it all in a way that ensures you’ll live until the moment I cut your heart out of your chest.”
    Christ .
    “Jude Marley,” Mickey whispers.
    “What?” Prez barks.
    “Jude Marley,” he repeats, his voice slightly stronger, but still a whisper.
    “Was that