Heisenberg kept pounding on the metal door while he shouted. "Open this door right now!" He pummeled the door once more and then stepped back, staring at the bare door intensely. Jesse had moved himself nearer to the commode and was braced with his back against the wall. His chest still heaved up and down.
The deadbolt slid out of place and the door opened only a few inches. A section of Todd's face became visible.
"Mr. White, you can't be like this. It's not going to help you."
"Todd, I have demands. My prisoner, which you have given to me in exchange for the cook, is in an unacceptable condition." Walt heightened his anger for effect; he wanted to appear like a merchant who had been tricked into buying sickly cattle.
"I need more water and some bread, and…I want new clothes for him, and clothes that fit, including socks and underwear. Bring me some towels, some soap and I want razor."
"I don't know if I can bring that you Mr. White. I mean, I don't have any problem with it, but Jack is only out for a little while longer now. If you get caught with the door open, there's no telling what he'll do to you."
Walt scoffed, "What will he do, Todd, kill me? Let him, and then you won't get your cook."
"He can do worse than kill you, Mr. White," Todd returned.
Walt changed tactics and softened himself, thinking it would exact greater influence on the young man. "Todd, please. Please just bring me what you can. He's no good to me as his is." Walt motioned with his hands to Jesse, who was looking woeful up against the wall.
With reluctance, Todd consented to find what he could and locked the door. He stood with his hand on the door for a minute thinking about the consequences of giving Mr. White what he had requested. There was every chance his Uncle would return home and catch him giving contraband to Mr. White. He could get a beating, but worse, his Uncle could kill Mr. White and Jesse, and then it would all be over. He'd be stuck on his own cooking sub-par methamphetamine with no chance of ever getting his purity to a level where Lydia would begin to respect him. Todd decided to act quickly and gather what things he could in the next ten minutes. He went to the farthest bedroom down the hallway to the left of the cell room where Walt and Jesse were being kept. The room was bathed in darkness until Todd flipped the overhead light on revealing its scant and windowless state. A single bulb came on that was hanging low from the ceiling on a black cable. The room held a double bed with ruffled bedding in sage green and a lone dresser pushed up against the far wall. Todd went straight to the dresser and began rifling through it, pulling out a black hoodie, t-shirt and jeans. He quickly left, shutting the light off, and jogged to the washroom at the end of the hall. It was large room with mint green tiles from floor to ceiling with several showers and stalls. He grabbed a grubby towel draped over a stall and a few hygiene items. He stalked back out and to the cell room, listening for the remotest sounds signalling his uncle had returned. Hearing nothing, he opened the door. "This is all I can give you, Mr. White."
Walt sat on his bunk beside the items Todd procured for him. He found he was successful in getting a set of clean clothes for Jesse, but no water or bread. They would have to make do with what water was left, and Walt hoped Jesse's illness was now passing. He walked over to the sink to fill it up with bubbly, soapy water. Jesse was still sitting with his back against the wall, his head tipped forward about a foot from the toilet. His eyes were shut and he had hand clutching his stomach. After filling up the sink with warm water, Walt crouched down in front of Jesse.
"The sink is filled for you to uh, freshen up. When you're ready there's even a razor here, but I'll – I'll just help you with the part." For once he was trying not to sound patronising, but he wasn't handing the razor to Jesse in his current state. Just as he stood up, the metal door flew open in a loud bang. Startled, Walt spun around to see Jack, Kenny, Todd and two other men leering in through the door frame.
"Grab him" Jack ordered, lighting a cigarette in his mouth. Kenny was first through the door jamb and sucker punched Walt in the stomach. As he doubled-over, he was dragged out by his arms. Todd stood expressionless looking around the room as he went to close the door. He noticed Jesse against the wall with his eyes screwed shut, but then turned to close the door.
Jesse had slipped into sleep sitting up against the wall. He was dreaming a rare dream of something beautiful. It was a near perfect replay of the best time he and Jane had ever fucked. Before they began shooting heroin, the sex was delectable and Jane insatiable. Every time had blown his mind but there was, like relationships past, one time that stood towering over the others. He was reliving it in stunning detail as he dreamed. He was lying with his back to his yellow-sheeted bed and Jane was on top of him, riding him and spewing out filth with almost every movement. She put a hand around his neck and clamped tightly. "You like to be fucked like this, don't you?"
He was shocked for a moment but felt himself grow that much harder inside of her. He braced himself with a hand against the headboard and he could just about draw in a breath. "Yeah…" he trailed out, panting as he held onto her waist with is other hand, guiding her gently. She grinned so wide her teeth showed. Never slowing her rhythm, she leaned in close to his right ear. "You are a fucking filthy whore." She bucked back up and giggled, taking her hand off his neck.
"Fuck…yeah," he moaned out in a low, grainy voice. Both his hands were on her hips forcing her down, and harder against him. She smiled again, running a hand through her hair. Then savagely, she slapped him across the face. Giggling, she ran her fingers back over the portion of his face she slapped. She dragged her fingers over his mouth before clenching his neck once again. He rubbed a hand against her pert breasts before grabbing her right breast and squeezing as hard as he could.
"Oh, fuck yeah!" She screamed out. "I'm gonna fucking come." She kept her hand hard against his throat as she writhed against him, coming in waves. She undulated against his chest and kissed at his face with every new wave that entered. Desire and lust were intoxicating him after watching and feeling her orgasm against him. He put his hands to her cheeks and brought her in close for a kiss. "You make me so fucking hard," he said, kissing her forcefully.
Panting and steadying her eyes into his, she said almost as a threat, "I'm going to make you come so hard you'll wish you were dead." Jesse's expression became quizzical for a moment and then cleared to something soft but serious. He ruffled his hair for a moment, suddenly a bit nervous. Jane moved off of him and centred herself between his legs. She split them apart and pushed them backward. Laughing with unease, Jesse asked, "What are you doing?"
"Shut up, whore," she returned, suppressing a smirk. Jesse pushed his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes for a moment. She was incredible, he thought. She's everything to me right now. Sensuality swirled around him as an intense feeling of obsessive need for Jane lodged itself in his chest. He suddenly wanted more of her in any way possible. He needed to feel as close to her as possible. Jane put two fingers in her mouth and covered them in spit then put her other hand on his stomach. "Don't fucking move when I do this, stay still," she said.
"What…oh-" Jesse lost his words as she entered him. He was filled with momentary panic, but as she began to gently fuck him, panic gave way to a novel form of ecstasy. He felt himself involuntarily moving in time with her.
"Yeah, that's it, my filthy little slut. Show me you like it," Jane grinned. He moaned in a loud, revealing fashion as she ramped up her rhythm and pressure. The sensation was so intense and satisfying, he was losing all control of himself. Overwhelmed, he sucked on his own finger. Jane looked at him and smiled greedily,
"You are such a little slut for me, aren't you?" Her words were becoming gospel to him as he gave himself over to the filthiest feelings of rapture. He was grinding back on her with no self-consciousness and could feel the release beginning to build.
"Yeah, that's it, uh-huh." Jane was relishing every moment. He had lost all control and was under her power. "Come for me, my filthy slut boy." She trailed her free hand down towards his cock but had no intention of touching it.
"God…" he trailed off as he reached his peak. He began to unravel, unbounded in pure ecstasy. He yelled out, swore, writhed every which way, one hand grasping the headboard and the other clasping Jane's hand, pinching and squeezing it.
"You're gorgeous when you come," Jane said with some reverence, leaning in to kiss his forehead.
He reached out to touch her face and open his eyes, but suddenly he couldn't. His eyes opened in startle, and he was back in the room, cold and alone. The dream was over and the only scrap of it left were his dirtied shorts. "Fuck…" he said to himself, uncomfortably shifting against the wall. Bits of the evening came back to him and he remembered Mr. White had put on some sort of ego display to get him soap and new clothes. He had no idea why he did that, other than, he guessed, whole-hearted pity at the state of him, but he was now thankful. He stood up and remade a warm, soapy sink of water for himself. He undressed and began to wash using the old towel. After several sinks, he felt a modicum of cleanliness that he hadn't felt in weeks. He hadn't been granted a shower since the last time they sold a few hours of his time. He went to the bunk and began to put on the new set of clothes. He couldn't begin to guess whose clothes they were because they were only a size too big for him. As he lifted the hoodie, something plastic fell to floor. He put on the hoodie then looked down, and it was then he saw it lying there, waiting for him: it was the razor. Adrenaline and panic washed through him in equal measures. He slumped to the bunk not taking his eyes off the razor. If I really went for it, he thought, this could be it. It could even be a distraction for Walt to try and enact whatever outrageous scheme it was he had going. His breathing sped up and he could feel himself moving without thinking. He picked up the razor and brought it close to his face. It was a twin blade, cheap-as-shit Bic razor. He'd have to take it apart to get anywhere with it. He went into autopilot and tried to break apart the head of the razor. Within a moment he had cut the tip of his ring finger. It felt like piercing the skin of a grape; he only felt an ache followed by a throbbing once he saw blood beading out. He stared at it, stilled.
Walt was lying starkly against the cold floor of the clubhouse's main room with his hands tied behind his back. His face was smashed up against the filthy parquet flooring and his glasses were beginning to fall away from his face. He had suffered a few punches and hits, but nothing punishing. He was uncomfortable and annoyed that his glasses may tumble completely from his face, but mostly glad that he was back in the room with his keys. He could see the key rack from the floor and his bright red key chain still hung there. Too many days had passed for him to be certain the Cadillac remained where he left it, but it didn't matter. If the M60 failed to hit any of Jack and his crew, the sound of the shots would provide a distraction at the very least. It could give the impression they were being attacked and give Walt time to abscond with Jesse. Jack was tracing around him as he lay there with a handful of men scattered throughout, including Kenny and Todd. Todd was slinking around the back of the room, quiet and observant.
"Walter White, you are tryin' your luck 'round here," Jack started. His hair was slicked against his skull and his skin grimy. His eyes were cold but the rest of his face was laced with a grin. "I have been arguing with myself about killing you. If it wasn't for the habit of having that rat bitch of yours around, I would've done it already."
Jack stood with the boot of his right foot squared to Walt's face. He dropped the cigarette he finished, which landed within mere inches of Walt. Jack raised his foot and snubbed it out, grinding it into the wooden floor. "We've become accustomed to guests it seems. I never thought I'd hear myself say that." Jack looked around to his men, eliciting chuckles.
"The truth is Walt, I've been talking to some people. And it seems you might be worth a pretty, little penny to the right buyer."
Walt's eyes darted up to Jack, whose boot was still lined up to his face.
"So you ain't dying yet and yer still gonna cook with Toddy. Make him happy as a clam. But, you can't be carrying on the way you did tonight. I did you a gentleman's deal, Walt. I gave you that dirty rat as a gift to a dying man since you were so obliging to Todd. You can't go taking advantage of Todd's kindly nature when I'm not around."
Walt was working quickly to process everything Jack was laying out to him. It seemed he would have more time than he thought, but that he would need to guard against being taken from the compound. He would not let himself be sold off into under belly of the world, where a fate worse than death surely would meet him. Walt was horrified at that prospect, but he was more concerned about his penance for the charade to get Jesse clean.
"Boys, put him in the chair and bring out the thumbscrew," Jack said with finality. Walt was raised by two men who proceeded to unbind his wrists. They placed him in a leather recliner in the middle of the room.
Walt narrowed his eyes to Jack. "You're going to break a dying man's thumb…for what? Because the prisoner you gave me was in a disgusting state?" Walt's stomach flitted around with nervous apprehension, and he was deeply annoyed.
"Walt, I have to do something. I can't have you thinkin' you can do what you like." Jack leaned into Walt, lowering his voice, "Besides, it's bad for morale if I don't go the whole nine yards. You understand me, don't you?"
Walt scoffed and shook his head into a nod. He did understand, but was angry at this turn of events. He wasn't frightened of the pain though he hardly looked forward to it, but it was an extra aggravation impeding his mission. One more gruesome event distracting from why he came to the compound in the first place. Kenny approached with the thumbscrew, which was unsurprisingly medieval in its appearance. Kenny lowered himself to one knee and grabbed for Walt's right hand, and he yanked it away.
"Go for his left, Kenny. He'll need his right for cooking with Todd," Jack interjected.
Walt offered over his left hand and Kenny wedged the thumb into the vice snuggly, testing its tightness. He looked up to Walt's eyes, who returned his gaze with defiance instead of fear. Kenny's eyes widened and he lost his balance for a moment. He shifted to both knees and looked away from Walt to concentrate on the thumbscrew. He began to twist the vice's knob. Pain seared down through Walt's thumb into his hand and wrist. It was excruciating and he worked to muffle his gasps. Soon, he couldn't contain himself and began to yell out as Kenny wound the vice ever tighter. As the vice's knob turned one last time, he felt an exquisite crushing pressure that gave way to a release of sorts. Walt yelled as the vice was quickly loosened and removed. It was fractured, and a perfect match for the nose he was sure was broken, he thought.
"Put him in the corner boys, just in case I think of something else." Jack said, replacing Walt's seat in the leather recliner while Kenny and another man dragged him to the furthest corner of the room. They pushed him down into the corner and tied his hands and feet together, attaching the two together to ensure Walt's movement was restricted. His view was now of the pool table predominantly, and the back of the room. He settled into the corner and began trying to memorize the room to aid in his plotting. Suddenly, he remembered Jesse and the razor. His stomach sank to a oceanic depth. He had made a huge mistake in requesting that razor, he thought with a clarity he wished he'd had before. The outcome he was imagining felt like a promise and he thought for a moment that maybe this would be better. It would be a horror to see the blood and Jesse's lifeless body, but Jesse would have been delivered into the void he longed for. Walt sighed as his eyes faintly welled up. This was the moment, he thought: either I get to that room right now, somehow, or I stay here silently and let him die.