Frankie shushed everyone into silence and started his procedure. Andrew spluttered and coughed as the pliers entered his mouth. They scratched against his tongue and clinked against his teeth, sending aching shudders down to the roots. Suddenly, the steel tongs clamped down on either side of a molar and Andrew felt the tooth crack beneath the sudden pressure. Agony exploded thorough his lower jaw and travelled upwards to consume his entire face. His vision blurred as the pliers twisted side to side, yanking and wrenching the tooth away from the gum, millimetre by excruciating millimetre. Despite coming extremely near, Andrew didn’t lose consciousness. He was still awake to see Frankie to make a successful extraction and hold it in front of his mesmerised audience like a grizzly trophy.
Andrew’s mouth filled with hot, salty blood; so much that he thought he might drown in it. He spat endlessly to keep his mouth clear and the sight of all the gore seemed to cause a massive grin to stretch wide across Frankie’s twitching face.
“That shit is gross,” said Dom from a couple of meters away. “I could puke!”
“Pull another one,” Michelle screeched. “Do another before he passes out.”
Frankie took the pointed piece of enamel from the pliers and examined it between his fingers. He showed it to Andrew, waving it a couple of inches in front of his nose. “Mind if I keep this?”
The question disturbed Andrew. It was the type of thing a serial killer would do; keep a memento of his victim’s bodies. The notion of dying tonight was becoming more and more a reality to Andrew, but so was something else: If Frankie was going to kill him, he wouldn’t just stop there – couldn’t stop there. Pen and Bex were witnesses that this thug could not afford to keep around. If Andrew didn’t get free, Frankie was going to kill his family.
“Time for the next tooth,” said Frankie clicking the pliers open and shut. Blood still dripped from the implement.
“STOP IT!”
Andrew leant sideways to see around Frankie. What he saw was Davie, stood up beside the sofa and facing down his brother.
Frankie spun around. “What the fuck, Davie?”
Davie’s eyes narrowed beneath the bandage around his forehead; his slim shoulders were rigid, tense. “I’m done with this, Frankie! You’ve hurt these people enough and I can’t take any more of this sick shit.”
Andrew couldn’t see Frankie’s face now, his back was turned, but he could tell by the unmoving body language that the thug was dumbfounded by his little brother’s sudden outburst.
“What’s your problem? This goddamn pedo ran you the-fuck-over.”
“It was an accident,” said Davie, a single decibel below a shout, “and it happened because I was running away after what you did to that girl at the chip shop. If you hadn’t taken me along I wouldn’t have got hit by any car.”
“You keep your mouth shut about that. You want me to get pinched?”
Davie shook his head, exasperated. “You’re already going to get pinched. You’re planning on killing people tonight.”
So I was right, Andrew thought grimly. The psychopath really does have it in him to commit murder.
“So what?” said Frankie. “Shit happens. Long as we’re smart, no one will pin a thing on us.”
Davie huffed and seemed incredulous. “Us? Us? I want nothing to do with this whole mess. This is all down to you and your shit-faced mates.”
“Hey, man, that’s not cool,” said Jordan from the floor.
“No,” Frankie agreed. “Not cool at all.” He marched forward and prodded a finger into Davie’s chest. “Now you chill the fuck out, little bro, or things are going to end bad for you.”
Davie didn’t move an inch. “I love you, Frankie, but if you carry on hurting these people then I ain’t your bro no more.”
Frankie was silent for a while as he seemed to consider his next words. “You sure you want things to go down like that?”
Davie nodded and stood firm, not breaking eye-contact for a second.
Andrew sat and watched from the armchair, hardly able to breathe as he waited for an outcome to this familial confrontation – it seemed his life might very well hang in the balance. At least, if anything, he’d judged Davie correctly – the boy was nothing like his older brother.
“I let them go: I go down,” said Frankie. “You want that?”
Davie sighed. “Course not. You’re my blood.”
“So, what then? What would you have me do, Davie? You seem to be the one with all of the goddamn answers, so please enlighten me.”
Davie shrugged. “Just leave. They won’t say anything.”