“Venga,” Uncle ordered, “Come.”
My eyes widened as I came face-to-face with something straight out of a horror film. My blank stare went to the man. A man I’d never seen before. His head was draped over, his arms tied behind his back, and his legs strapped to the steel chair he was sitting on. A plastic visqueen-lined area beneath him. Silver duct tape sealed his mouth and eyes. Blood dripped down his bruised and bloody face. I looked around at my uncle’s men. They wore their sadistic expressions and bloody knuckles proudly, no hint of remorse, no sign of guilt. They were showcasing their handy work.
The man was beaten within an inch of his life.
I looked from the man who was alive but appeared dead to Esteban who was standing at the far corner of the basement. Once again the man I knew. Except this time, he looked as broken as I felt.
The shame and remorse eating him alive.
Me.
“I bring you a gift, and this is how you react?” Uncle voiced, bringing my gaze back to him.
He was leaned up against the wall behind the man in the chair. His arms folded over his chest, one leg draped over the other. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled but there wasn’t a hair out of place.
“A gift?” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.
“Briggs, I won’t tell you again. Come here.”
I stepped off the elevator and the doors closed behind me.
I shuddered, suddenly cold.
My uncle smiled. “Are you scared?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. I had to dig my nails into the palms of my hands to keep from passing out.
“You’re my niece, the daughter of my only sister, who I loved very fucking much. I would never physically hurt you. Don’t you ever fucking offend me again by letting that thought cross your mind.”
I blinked, taking in his words. The concrete floors were callous beneath my bare feet, the sounds of a furnace echoed through the huge, damp, concrete basement.
“Do you understand me?” he added.
I peered down at the man in the chair, ignoring his question. My uncle followed the direction of my stare.
“It was a hit and run.”
Our eyes locked.
“And this,” he nodded at the man in the chair, “is the man who ran,” he stated, answering the question in my mind.
My eyes scanned his body, confused and overwhelmed by the turn of events. I couldn't look away from the man's gruesome appearance. His chest was in worse shape than his face. Blood was covering his whole torso. I looked closer and sucked in a breath.
Amari.
My mom's name was carved on his skin, peeking out through his ripped, button down shirt on his chest.
My uncle jerked his neck toward Esteban, who understood his silent command. He made his way to the man in the chair. For a second, Esteban’s eyes pleaded with me to forgive him for what was about to happen. He roughly ripped off the tape from his eyes and then his mouth. Throwing a bucket of water on his face and the man stirred into consciousness. Gasping for air that wasn’t available for the taking.
Esteban quickly retreated back to the corner of the basement. I could have sworn I saw him make the sign of the cross before the sounds of the man waking up brought my attention back to the situation.
He immediately started screaming and thrashing around. My uncle didn’t pay him any mind. For the first time in my life, I fought an internal struggle between right and wrong.
“You didn’t kill your parents, Briggs. He did,” Uncle reminded, fueling my battle of good versus evil.
My heart.
My mind.
My soul.
“LIAR!” the man yelled out.
I jumped, craving to place my hands over my ears, my eyes.
To hide.
To crawl into that empty space I’d been living in for years. To seek refuge within myself was the only way I knew how to survive.
“YOU’RE A FUCKING LIAR!” he screamed bloody murder, whipping around even harder, faster, almost making the chair fall over.
No one paid him any mind as I visibly struggled with my conflicting emotions.
Unforgiving.
Merciless.
Remorseless.
Please, God…
One right after the other.
“It’s midnight,” my uncle said, settling his stare on the man.
The rest played out in slow motion.
My uncle raised his gun, pointing it directly to the back of the man’s head. The man stopped moving as if he knew. All of the fight in him was gone.
Locking eyes with me instead.
I screamed, shaking. “No! No! No! You don’t have to do this!”
“Happy fifteenth birthday, Daisy.”
And with that…
He blew his fucking head off.
Chapter 8
<>Austin<>
“Hey,” I greeted, walking up to Alex from behind.
She turned to face me and smiled shyly. “Hey.”
I hadn’t seen her much since that day on the dock. There was no point to it. I fucked up and she knew that.