[ CW ] Write a story that contains the phrase `` I never said she stole my money '' 7 times , each time with the emphasis on a different word .

“ *I* never said she stole my money, ” I say, trying for wounded indignance, which is tough to pull off when your hands are cuffed behind you and you ’ re terrified. “ I *never* said she stole my money. ” 
 
 
 “ Alex sez you did, ” Porter rumbles from where he sits, across the marred and bleary coffee table from where I ’ m pinned to a cheap wooden chair, seeming to take up half the small couch. Dressed in his trademark black shirt and pants, black boots and cream-colored coat, he looked every bit the aging football player turned legbreaker. “ Alex sez you told him Deb took your stash and every cent you had. ” 
 
 
 “ Fuck Alex, ” I say, vacillating between fear and outrage. “ I don ’ t tell that fuckhole dick, let alone something like that. ” I can hear Evander somewhere behind me, rummaging through the crap piled on the kitchen counter, now moving to the tiny dining room table, almost silent, his expensive aftershave redolent in the dank, stale air of the apartment. I wish I could see him … as imposing as Porter is, Evander ’ s the dangerous one. 
 
 
 Porter shakes his head sadly, then removes his sunglasses. “ Alex sez you *also* said she stole your video camera and the tapes you had hid up on the closet shelf. That you were shitting yourself, you were so scared, when you found out they was gone. ” 
 
 
 I feel a cold shudder worm its way down through me. Fucking Alex. They probably fucking killed him … after making him sing like a fucking diva, apparently. I see my chances of getting out of this narrow to a pinhole. 
 
 
 “ I never said she stole my *money*, ” I mumble, changing tactics. “ Yeah, I might have told him she took some of my *stuff* … my video unit, sure. One of my phones. My stash. Maybe some other stuff, I dunno, ” I continue, trying to crane my head to catch sight of Evander. “ I was pissed … high … I don ’ t exactly recall *what* I said. You know how it is when you ’ re pissed, right? ” I plead, trying for Evander ’ s attention. He might be scarier … but he ’ s the more reasonable of the two. “ But … 
 
 
 But it ’ s Porter who stands up, and the impression of a well-clothed mountain is a hard one to shake as he carefully maneuvers around the coffee table. “ But you can see how Don would take it as an insult, though, right? ” Porter rumbles. “ You saying something like that about his daughter. ” He moves around until he ’ s standing by my side, his breathing sounding like a rumbling subway train. “ He *loves* his daughter, right? She ’ s his only kid. And to have a sleazy, junkie scumball like you accusing her of stealing his money … well … that just don ’ t sit right with him, ” he wheezes, and one of his hands finds my shoulder and squeezes. Hard. 
 
 
 “ I never said *she* stole my money! ” I moan, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, feeling his steel fingers probe and find a variety of tender spots. “ If I said anything, it was about that cunt Krystal! ” I wince and moan, unable to help myself, as Porter somehow seems to find a nerve near my neck that sends a lance of red-hot pain all the way down to my balls. “ Everyone knows Krystal ’ s a fucking lying, cheating whore, ” I gasp. “ If Deb … if Deb did anything, it was probably Krystal put her up to it! ” 
 
 
 I feel Porter release his grip and I sag forward as much as the cuffs will let me, gasping with relief. And then almost instantly I tense up again as a smaller, lighter hand rests on my other shoulder. 
 
 
 “ So … *Krystal* stole your money, ” purrs Evander, his mouth almost next to my ear, making me flinch. “ *Deb* just stole … what … everything else? ” He moves his hand up my neck, making me shudder, then pats my head, voice heavy with irony. “ Your stash … your phone … and, of course … the tapes, ” he drawls. Another chill works its way down my spine. Those fucking tapes. Deb ’ s idea. All of it, her idea. And she left me here with this fucking jackpot. 
 
 
 “ Look … I never said she *stole* my money … I didn ’ t use those words, ” I say, knowing how I sound … whining … weaselly. But these fucking guys are serious. They know about the tapes. Maybe not exactly what ’ s on em … but enough to have made Don nervous. And despite dipshit Porter ’ s idyllic sonnet, there was no love lost between Don and Deb. If Don even suspected Deb and I had recorded some of his conversations, some of his meetings … 
 
 
 “ What I *might* have said to that fucking Alex … is maybe, maybe Deb *borrowed* some of my stuff. Maybe even thought some of it was hers or, like … she was doing me a favor, ” I ramble, seeing Evander come around to my right … slim, elegant. Looking cool and relaxed in chinos and a guayabera shirt, hair slicked back, those ever-present dark glasses on. His thin smile as he half-turns to me. 
 
 
 “ Doing you a favor … interesting, ” he drawls, coming closer, sitting lightly on a corner of the coffee table, adjusting one leg of his pressed pants. “ But see … what we hear is that you said … *you* said, specifically, she stole your money, and why- 
 
 
 “ I never *said* she stole my money! I never *said* that! Alex is a fucking s- ” 
 
 
 The smack rocks my head to the side, and I can feel a burst of warm blood from my tongue where my teeth had bitten into it. 
 
 
 “ Don ’ t interrupt, ” Porter growls. “ Evander was trying to talk. That ’ s rude. ” 
 
 
 I see Evander smile up at Porter indulgently before turning his attention back to me. 
 
 
 “ As I was saying, ” he continues, leaning forward, until his face is just a foot or so from mine. “ Why would you tell Alex, or anyone else, that Deb stole from you? You two were partners … right? ” His small smile never wavers, and I can ’ t see his eyes behind the dark glasses. “ Why wouldn ’ t you just handle it yourself? You ’ re a *man*, after all … are you not? ” The smile disappears. “ Unless you were panicking … scared shitless. ” The straight razor seems to appear magically, from nowhere, in his hand, already flicked open, the blade looking evilly sharp. “ And *why* would you be scared shitless, Don wonders? ” The blade approaches, gently rasps down my cheek … freezing me in place, sweat trickling into my eyes, more terrified than I ’ ve ever been. “ Maybe because … it wasn ’ t so much the stash or the phone, or whatever other cheap shit of yours she cleaned out. Right? ” Evander whispers, scraping the other cheek, harder, the sweat running down my face now mixed with blood. I can see it landing on my jeans. “ She stole the tapes. And … what else, Peter? What was in those two suitcases under the bed? ” 
 
 
 “ I never … never said she stole *my* money, ” I whisper back, shaking, my words barely audible. 
 
 
 “ Right, ” Evander breathes, smiling again. The blade moves down to my throat. “ The question is … how did a numbnuts like you ever think you were gon na get away with stealing $ 2.6 million of Don Trujillo ’ s money? ” The question is lost in the roaring I seem to hear as the blade, ice cold, traces a fiery line across my throat…
