So I opt for the most important words of all. “I’m sorry.”
I can’t say it enough. No number of apologies will ever bring any of her family members back, but it’s a start.
Her chest rises and her nostrils flare as she takes in a breath as if she’s inhaling my words to the fullest. Then she nods a few times, licking her lips.
She doesn’t have to say anything. I should be the one to say all the words, but there aren’t enough in the dictionary to describe how sorry I am for putting her through all that anguish.
“I should’ve known my uncle was the culprit. I should’ve known you were speaking the truth. I should’ve—”
She puts a finger on my lips, and says, “Don’t. Just … don’t say anything please.”
I nod. Every word I utter fails to give her peace.
She has every right to be angry, and I won’t even attempt to take that emotion away from her. Nothing I do or say will erase what I’ve done.
So I grab her hand and press a soft kiss to the top before turning around and walking off with my umbrella held high while my head slumps. Not because of sadness or despair. It’s the guilt that weighs me down. The shame that drags me away from her.
If I cannot provide her comfort, I will give her someone to blame.
An enemy she can hate for the rest of her life.
At least then I may be of some use to her after all.
“Wait!” she suddenly yells. “When will I see you again?”
I don’t know the answer to that question.
The only thing I know is that I still have some things to take care of. Some people to punish for ruining both my family and hers. People my uncle associated himself with.
People whose names I have tattooed on my skin.
Still, I can’t help but smile at the sound of her voice ringing in my ears.
I will keep it in my heart as I walk off, knowing she’ll be all right.
Even if we never meet again.
*
A few days later
I open the back of my truck, which I finally got back, and show Chase my shiny new prize that I found. A muzzled, tied up screaming man. Or more specifically … one of the men my uncle called to kill Dixie’s brothers. With my uncle’s phone in my pocket, he wasn’t hard to track down. All it took was a few calls, pretending to be another client, and then surprising him somewhere off the road. And here we are.
“I’m so fucking glad you called me up for some fun,” Chase says with a big smile on his face as he grabs the huge black bag lying next to the man. “Now this I can help with.”
“You sure are excited,” I say as I check the surroundings to make sure we’re alone.
“It’s been too long,” Chase says.
“All clear,” I say, and we hoist the man out of the truck.
He squirms and screams for help, but no one will come for him here. We’re at a remote warehouse, one of my favorite locations to take care of … people like him. I don’t want to call him human because he’s far from being one. All this man does is take the worst of the worst jobs. Instead of killing people who actually deserve it, he just takes the ones that pay out the best.
He’s one half of the two responsible for murdering Dixie’s brothers, and I’m about to hold him accountable for this sin.
As we drag him inside and strap him to a chair in the middle, his gag somehow gets loose.
“Don’t fucking do this! Please!”
I smack him in the face, and yell back, “Don’t you fucking talk to me.”
He spits out blood in my face. “Like you’re so innocent …”
I punch him again for good measure. But damn, does it hurt my knuckles, so I better not do that again.
“Don’t rough him up too much,” Chase says, throwing the black bag on the floor. The cling-clang sound it makes has the man’s attention. “Otherwise, there’s nothing left to have fun with.”
When Chase pulls out a pair of bolt cutters, the man’s eyes widen, and he begins to screech.
“Please, no! Fuck, no! I’ll do anything. Just tell me what to do.”
I bend over and grab his chin. “Nothing. You’ve already done too much.” My smile makes him cower in fear.
Chase approaches him with the bolt cutters and a vicious grin on his face. “Who’ll do the honors?”
“You do it. I don’t think I have the patience to wait this one out,” I say, and I step away. “I just wanna murder him.”
“Aww, but we gotta have some fun first,” he says as he grabs the man’s feet and pulls off his shoes and socks. “Which toe shall we take first?”
“Please! Don’t!” the man begs, and I turn around to face the wall. I can’t look at this piece of garbage without wanting to rip his eyes out for what he did to Dixie. “I’ll give you anything. Money. Cars. Women. My fucking house. Anything, you can have it.”
I don’t want anything he’s got to offer … except his blood.
Chase doesn’t say a word and neither do I. Instead, all I hear is the man’s scream.
And fuck me, does it feel good.
“Why? Why?” the man asks, his voice shaky as his blood spills on the floor.
“Why?” I repeat, marching toward him and grabbing him by the throat. “Remember those two boys at that farm in Springhaven?” I ask.
He shakes his head, snot dripping down his lips.
Of course, he doesn’t. He’s probably killed dozens more like them. As if they were meaningless lives. Today, he’ll learn his lesson.
Chase cuts off another toe, and I watch his eyes as they roll into the back of his head from the pain. The yowl that escapes his mouth is as delicious as I imagined it to be.
“The one you stabbed to death? Sliced the other’s throat? They were innocent … and they were young. Too young to die.”
“No, I don’t know. I’m sorry, please. Whatever I did.”
Chase cuts off another one, and the cries that come from his throat are like a song to me. I can’t stop watching the way his lip curls up and his fingernails dig into the chair he’s strapped to.
“Remember me? I’m the boy you forced to help kill those twins that night.” I push my index finger against his chest. “Because of you, my life was destroyed.”