Sam woke up with a massive headache and an aching pain on his shoulders and on his wrists. Sweat was dripping from his forehead. He glanced at his surroundings. It took him a moment to realize that he was in their living room but he was not lying down in the sofa. He was on the cold floor, his mouth gagged with a towel, his hands tied together on his back. He tried to stand up but his feet were also tied. Panic soon overwhelmed him. He was feeling breathless. His eyes wide open trying to make sense of what is happening. He surveyed the scene for Ryan. He was nowhere to be found. Then, someone hoisted him up and made him sit in a chair. Sam's head throbbed painfully, making him dizzy. He looked up and saw the man. He was a heavy set man, balding but seems to be around mid-thirties. There was blood on his grey jacket.

The man turned Sam's chair around to face the opposite side. Sam saw Ryan tied up on a chair in front of him. He was not gagged but he seemed lifeless. There was blood all over his face. Panicking, Sam looked around the area. He could only see the bald man. Then, someone stepped outside from his room carrying a large rectangular object – it was his painting. He tried to shout but only muffled screams came out. Then a familiar person followed the man carrying his painting. It was Mark.

"Hmm... nice small place." He glanced around the surrounding with an appreciative look. "Oh, hello there!" Mark took off his gloves to shake hands with Sam. "Oh! Right! I'm sorry, I had you tied up." He laughed while his hands remained extended to Sam. Then, the room was filled with laughter. Sam realized that there were more men in the room than what he could see.

Then, without warning, Mark slapped Sam so hard his chair toppled and he fell.

"That's for soaking me in to the pool. I know, I know, I'ts not your fault... Don't worry. I had your friend here pay me for shaming me earlier. And since you were in on it too, so, it's your turn now." Mark wiped his hands to the jacket of one of the men and put his gloves back on. "You see, I always want to be paid back. Nothing in this world is for free, you know. So I won't let you get away with what you did without some payment. The problem is... we don't have a pool here."

He squatted down by Sam's head and grabbed his hair. Sam tried to talk.

"What? I can't hear you, Mr. Painter. Oh, right! I had you gagged." He laughed again. "Let me help you with that." He took off the towel tied around Sam's mouth. Sam gasped for breath.

"Not... the... p-painting." He managed to say it weakly as he tried to breathe. This city, these people, all of them... crazy, he thought.

Mark laughed hard. The men laughed along. "Yeah! We'll get to that later. So, as I was saying... we don't have a pool here. So, I improvised." He snapped his fingers. A man came out from the bathroom carrying a medium-sized pail, filled with water.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam said, barely audible.

"What? Why, you ask? Well, come here. Have a sit." Mark lifted Sam like a rag doll and placed him back to his sit. "You really don't have any idea what the two of you just did, do you? You see, all the guests there were my investors... they're big fishes. Plus, it wasn't just a birthday party. It was supposed to be a grand celebration of two hearts promising to join as one." Mark opened his arms wide to emphasize the grandiosity of what he just described. "And you just made a fool out of me in front of everyone!" Mark was now shouting at Sam's face.

"That was an accident! That girl! She doesn't know what she's talking about! I don't know what she's talking about!" Sam tried to shout, but the words were heavy. He was too weak and too dizzy. He felt his guts trying to escape from his mouth.

"That girl? You're talking like a complete stranger now, Mr. Painter." Mark looked confused but with a hint of amusement on his lips. "Well, anyway, that's some twisted way of calling my fiancée. And for that, you deserve a round of these." He punched Sam straight to the face. Sam fell over his chair. His head got slammed to the stone floor. Then, he felt someone stomp on his abdomen and kicked his face hard. Soon, all the other men joined in the frenzy, kicking Sam in every part of his body.

"Pick him up and dip him to the pail, my style." Mark called to his men. Soon, the big men were now holding Sam upside down towards the pail. His head so close to the water now.

"W-what the... STOP! HEEEEELP!" Ryan was now awake. "HEEE – "

A muted gunshot silenced Ryan. The man standing beside him holstered the smoking gun.

"No." The word came out as a whisper.

"Thank you, Jerry! I hate noisy people. Okay now... dip dip!" Mark snapped his fingers as he sat on the sofa, his legs crossed. Immediately, the men plunged Sam's head to the water filled pail. After a few seconds, they took him out before dipping him again. They repeated it for two more times before putting him on to the floor. He was coughing and gasping for breath. His consciousness was now fading in and out from the severe headache and from the beating he got.

"Felt cold, eh? Stand up... back to your chair. Yep! That's it!" Mark was now lifting Sam back to his chair. Upon seeing Ryan's lifeless body, Sam threw up. Mark and his men were now laughing.

This is a dream...a nightmare! This has to be! Why is this happening to me?! He looked at Ryan, his best mate, the only friend he has in this city full of lunatics. His head bobbed lifelessly on the side. A stream of tears fell down from Sam's eyes, his head still aching severely. But, as it throbbed, he saw flashes of images somewhere in his mind. He couldn't make out most of them as they were flashing so fast. He felt dizzier. 

"Okay, cry baby, stop it! Ugh, you're disgusting. It's time for the grand finale." Mark walked slowly towards the painting. He ripped the wrapper apart, exposing the beautiful painting protected by a glass frame. "Well, you really are talented, Mr. Painter. It would be a shame if I break this and tear this apart." Mark smirked.

"Please... stop... I-I'll do anything... don't... t-touch that" Sam's was getting dizzier by the minute and his crushing headache intensified, more images flashed in his mind.

"Take off his ties." Mark ordered his men.

"Okay. Now, kneel before me." He ordered Sam.

Without hesitation, and because he was too weak and dizzy, Sam fell to his knees. Mark was now laughing hysterically. "Oh... oh! Hoooo! This life is great!" He placed the painting in front of Sam. Sam lifted his bleeding head and stared at the painting with swollen eyes.

Hey... I finally found you...

Somehow, he felt at peace now. Sam tried to reach for the painting. But then, Mark lifted the painting and held it up above his head. Sam's gaze followed. Almost at a blink of an eye, Mark slammed the glass-framed painting to Sam with full force. The sound of the shattered glass was deafening. But Sam could no longer hear anything. A high pitched ringing filled his ears as if a bomb just exploded in front of him. He could feel his face against the cold stone floor of their apartment, a pool of his own blood spreading across.

Everyone was silent, stunned by what Mark had just done.

From the faint light coming through the holed and torn painting covering him, Sam could see Melissa's smile so close to him. He tried to smile back.

Well, at least I get to see your smile before I die... sorry it took me a while...but I, I...

"... forgive you." Sam managed a faint whisper before his eyes finally closed.

***

Mark and his men left the room.

"Boss, shouldn't we finish him?" One man asked.

"Nah... Let him suffer if he's still alive." With that, Mark went out of the room. But not a moment longer, he went back with a gun and fired three more shots.

"Change of mind... Just a safety precaution. Clean up! Don't forget to pay any witnesses. Shut them up with any amount they ask," he said before finally leaving the apartment.

Four men took the bodies of Sam and Ryan and covered them with blankets. They placed them in the trunk of a black SUV parked outside Sam's apartment. The rest of the men cleaned the apartment, leaving behind no evidence. One man took the shattered painting and placed it underneath Sam's bed. Then, they left the apartment, the sound of the closing door echoing in every corner of the deserted living room. 

Two men once lived in this apartment. One who had lived his life by indulging in simple carnal pleasures while the other lived his with the hopes of someday he would find the kind of love that would make him love the colors of his life once again. Both of them found what they were looking for, but both of them ended in tragedy. The room fell in dead silence that only the ticking of the wall clock echoed across the living room. It was as if Time himself was chanting the last rites of their lives.

But, is it really over?

***

Coming up:  Why was Sam dragged into this confusion?

Find out more about the story from a different perspective this coming Wednesday :) Don't forget to follow if you would like to be kept updated :) Happy reading, readers ;)