"Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring."
"P-please—no, no more, pozhaluysta. I am not close with my mother, okay? Ona… ona ne otvechayet. She's busy. Always busy. She won't pick up. She never does."
"Well, that's fine. You still have, hm…"
Darkday tilted his head to the side, studying Nikola's body. Well, whatever was left of it, anyway.
He was now sprawled on the floor, almost like… cattle. All of his limbs were gone, his left ear, his right eye, and most of his lower teeth had been torn out.
And, perhaps to remind him of this, all of his dismembered and severed parts were floating right above him. Hovering just inches away from the ceiling, arranged in a way that it felt like the parts were slowly, but surely, shaping into the image of himself.
It wasn't messy at all, no. There was no blood at all, and even if there were, it was minimal—Darkday was making sure that he wouldn't bleed to death.
