I let out a mocking laugh, grabbed Mark Anderson's head, and smashed it heavily onto the floor.
Mark Anderson screamed miserably; his nose was smashed crooked, his face bruised and battered, looking utterly pitiful.
Rachel Martinez, shrank in the corner of the wall, her face growing increasingly pale.
I yanked Mark's hair, lifted his head, about to smash it again when suddenly hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. Then, the receptionist from before burst in with a few others.
One seemed to be a manager, while the other two were security guards.
Upon seeing the situation in the room, they were momentarily stunned.
The man who looked like the manager hastily shouted to me, "Stop! What are you doing?"
Mark Anderson suddenly got excited, shouting, "Quickly! Arrest him! He... he wants to kill me!"
