"I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."
- George R.r. Martin
As I made my way to Goat's, my thoughts were whirling in my head, each contemplating whether I should take the next step or turn away. I found the door was carelessly ajar, filling me with a nagging sense of unease that clung to the air. The flicker of hesitation lit up in me but was soon quenched by my curiosity.
Slowly, my legs led me across the threshold. As I ambled further into the house, strange noises were seeping out from the basement. Unable to rein in my growing curiosity, I made the choice to make my way down to the source of the noise. Each step that I took on the stairs leading down seemed to amplify the unsettling sounds, vibrating under my shoes with an unsettling resonance.
The heavy door was propped slightly open, through which faint yet chaotic sounds escaped. Gathering my courage, I drew closer, straining my eyes to discern the scene unfolding inside.
And then, I saw it.
Standing at the center of the poorly lit room, Hector was hunched over a visibly battered man lying helplessly on the floor. There was something unusually sinister about the situation. A twisted grin curled up the edges of Hector's mouth, accentuating his bone-chilling calmness.
He broke the unbearable silence with words that fell like ice, "You see, David, the human body is an incredibly fascinating structure. It virtually hands you the manual for causing the worst possible damage."
I watched as Hector's knife gleamed under the weak light. Each precise twist and thrust was delivered with such impressive precision it awed me. The man writhed in agony beneath Hector's onslaught, every trickle of blood clearly eliciting a great sense of satisfaction from Hector.
Even when the tortured screams from the man's lips rang through the hollow space, Hector continued unfazed. With an uncanny precision, he hit the man's kidneys, bringing forth a surge of blood and a muffled whimper as he simultaneously smothered the man's scream with his free hand.
After what felt like hours, Hector finally receded. A satisfied grin still stretched across his face. He seemed to revel in the sight of his victim left writhing in the pool of his own lifeblood. Much like myself. One more thing we had in common.
A chill slithered down my spine for some unfathomable reason. I was no stranger to this world of violence, but seeing the usually composed and well-mannered Hector unleash his wrath sent a jolt through my senses. It wasn't as if I was innocent of such atrocities myself. God knows I'd done far worse I had to be pulled away from the remains of my enemy once. But each act had left its mark, resulting in the familiar stab of self-doubt—questioning who I was, and what I was. But Hector's indifferent cruelty...it triggered something in me, something I didn't want to recall.
"Frank?" The call from Zane cut through my thoughts like a hot knife.
My reverie broken, I glanced up to see Hector, his hard, steely gaze fixed upon me. "Frankie?"
The towering man moved quickly towards me. As he reached me, he firmly but carefully took my arm, guiding me towards the staircase and leaving the cleanup duty to Goat and the other men.
Hector and I ascended to the upper floor. Once the door to the basement downstairs closed, a different type of silence washed over us. His deep, rich voice then broke it. "What are you doing here, Frankie?" he asked, genuine curiosity marking his features.
"I was looking for you," I replied honestly, despite the twisted knot of unease resting in my gut. What was wrong with me? "I knew I'd find you here."
The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he reached out to brush some of my unruly hair from my face. Yet the coppery stickiness smeared across his hands caught both of us by surprise, making me instinctively recoil. What the hell was wrong with me?
His warm expression dissolved, replaced with remorse. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice," he murmured in guilt, and he hastened towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway.
Minutes later, he reemerged, vigorously toweling his now clean hands as he approached me again.
"Why don't we sit down?" he suggested gently, motioning me towards the comfort of the frunchroom.
I gave a silent nod.
Upon taking our places on the plush couch, I became aware of Hector's gaze. His stare was intense, making me all too aware of our closeness.
"I wanted to thank you," I began tentatively, unwilling to meet his probing gaze.
"For what?" He seemed genuinely baffled by my gratitude.
"For sacrificing your Christmas Eve to be there for Noah and me, when you could have been spending it happily with your own family." I managed to stammer out.
With surprising tenderness, he held my chin in his hand, nudging me to make eye contact. His pupils bored into mine, stark with intensity.
"Are you scared of me?" he scrutinized my face, his piercing gaze causing an irrational pounding in my chest.
I wasn't scared of him or his bloody hands—blood had always been my sick, twisted pleasure. I reveled in it, soaked in it. So why the hell was I suddenly acting like I was Beauty and he was the Beast?
I couldn't understand why my heart reacted so strongly, so out of place it felt, and it confused me.
I just shook my head, unable to find any words.
Hector closed the distance between us until our bodies were only a breath apart. "I apologize for exposing you to such a gruesome sight. Next time, I'll make sure to be more careful," he whispered softly.
A sweet, almost naive smile brightened my face as I thought of his oddly tender nature. It struck me how bizarrely heartwarming this ruthless murderer could be.
"I should be going now," I finally found the courage to say, preparing to leave.
"Where to? It's Christmas day, I don't suppose you have work today, do you?" His questioning caught me off guard.
"No work," I responded, "but I have somewhere I need to be."
He offered an unexpected question. "Can I come?" His dark enticing gaze made it virtually impossible to decline his request.
I found myself agreeing, figuring his assistance might prove beneficial after all.
As Frankie drove us through the dilapidated neighborhood of East Garfield park, a familiar sadness gripped my heart. I was a privileged soul, born into the comforts of opulence, yet I had never shied away from sympathizing with the less fortunate. While charity was not unfamiliar to me, observing the stark realities of deprivation and poverty always made me feel a raw sort of pain. I could never fully wrap my head around the enduring struggles of their day-to-day life.
I broke the engulfing silence, "What are we doing here?"
"Wait and see," she murmured, offering me a placid smile.
Before I could probe further, Frankie brought the car to a halt outside a house. Among the neighboring run down houses, this particular one stood as an exception - clean, modest, and reasonably maintained.
Frankie got out, making her way up the path, and knocked gently on the front door.
Before I could understand what was happening, the door flew open and a tiny boy emerged, beaming broadly. He hollered joyously, "Frankie!" and then flung himself at her, almost knocking her down. "I missed you!"
Returning his greeting with equal warmth, Frankie scooped him up. "Hi, Tommy, I missed you too!" she said, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. "Where's Sheila?"
Without missing a beat, Tommy turned and hollered, "Mom! Frankie's here!"
A middle-aged woman with an honest, warm face came rushing out. She exchanged embraces with Frankie, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and relief. "You came, Frankie. How have you been?"
"Just as always. Busy and well." Frankie beamed at her. She then introduced me. "This is my friend, Hector."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," I greeted, my tone laced with respect.
"Oh, you're such a gentleman! It's not every day I get called 'ma'am', but it certainly has a nice ring to it!" Sheila exclaimed, followed by a chuckle that somehow infused a cheer into the environment.
Watching Frankie's raw joy was refreshing. Her affection towards this small family, their reciprocal affection towards her; it was beautiful to see this human connection, real and untamed.
"Could you give me a hand, Hector?" Frankie's voice broke through my thoughts.
We strolled over to her Mercedes G-Class that looked oddly out of place in this impoverished landscape. Popping open the trunk, Frankie revealed a trove of gifts wrapped in multiple bags.
"Just pick the ones in red," she instructed, scooping a couple herself.
I nodded and followed her lead.
We returned to the doorstep, balancing roughly a dozen red bags between us. Tommy was already waiting for us at the doorstep, bouncing on his toes in impatient anticipation.
"Oh, Frankie, really, you don't have to go this far for us!" Sheila exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to overflow.
A faint smirk grazed Frankie's lips as she responded. "Aren't we family?"
Shiela nodded fervently, struggling to keep her tears at bay. "Of course, we are."
"So, this," Frankie simply motioned to the armfuls of bags we carried, "is what family does."
Seizing his moment, Little Tommy blurted out his question in excitement, "Did you remember to get the firetruck, Frankie?" His face was shining with eagerness.
Laughing in response, Frankie said, "Not just one firetruck, Tommy, the whole set!"
With an ecstatic squeal, he barrelled into Frankie for a brief hug before shooting off to open his bag of gifts. "When I grow up, I'm gonna be a firefighter!"
Watching him unwrap his firetruck set with pure joy warmed me to my core. It was clear as day: Frankie's selflessness had lit up this family's life, and it filled me with immense pride to be a part of it.
Sheila dabbed at the single tear slipping down her cheek, "Ever since our house burned down, Tommy has been so determined to become a firefighter. He wants to be prepared if it ever happens again," Sheila whispered through her sobs. "Without your help, Frankie, we could have ended up on the streets."
Softly shaking her head, Frankie patted Sheila on the shoulder. "You guys are safe now, and that's what counts," she said. Rummaging through her purse, she fished out a thick envelope of bright white and passed it over to Sheila. "Just give me a call if you need anything. And I mean anything."
Sheila's eyes brimmed with tears again as she pulled Frankie into a warm, grateful hug.
"You truly are our guardian angel, Frankie." Sheila confessed, clasping her hand. "Thank you for everything."
Watching this interaction, I found myself taken aback by Frankie's pure spirit and her boundless generosity and compassion. It wasn't just a notion; she truly was a guardian angel for them, one I had the privilege of knowing.
After leaving Sheila's home, we made two more stops, gracing each home with more of Frankie's gifts. Seeing how much Frankie cared for these people filled me with pride. She had truly brought joy to them and their gratefulness made our visits so much more meaningful.
"You know, I really appreciate you coming along," she said as we buckled ourselves into the car.
"No," I retorted with a smile, pushing her hair away from her face, "Watching you put a smile on those faces was an absolute pleasure."
We locked eyes. Hers were the deepest shade of hazel that I'd ever seen. I could feel my self control slipping away whenever I looked into them.
Her beauty was captivating and unmatched. Her subtle smile reflected a sense of deep tranquility. It was almost hypnotic. I found myself drawn towards her and my defenses were slowly wearing off.
As I edged towards her, I could feel the gentle rhythm of her breath against my face. I raised my hand, grazing her soft lips with my thumb, before giving in and kissing her.
The moment our lips met, the world faded away, and all I was aware of was the feel of her lips, her warmth, her need. Our tongues met, passionately exploring each other's mouths, savouring every taste, every movement, our intensity deepening with every passing moment.
My hands had free reign over her body, acquainting themselves with her curves and relishing in the warmth radiating from her. She let out a sensual moan, further igniting my desire for her.
She gently pulled away from my embrace, panting slightly from the effort and trying to catch her breath, "Let's go to your place."
──●◎●──
Once the elevator doors closed, I pressed her firmly against the wall, kissing and eating the hell out of her lips. Her moans fanned the flame of my insatiable hunger for her. I couldn't let anyone else have her.
Turning her around, I brushed her hair aside, revealing her neck as I trailed kisses down her shoulder.
My hands eagerly caressed her breasts, applying just the right amount of pressure and making her throw her head back against my chest, her breaths hitching in anticipation.
Her hand skated to the back of my head, threading her fingers through my hair, her grip tensifying each time my kisses deepened.
"Hector.." her whisper came muffled against my lips.
As we tumbled into my apartment, she wasted no moments wrapping herself around me, plunging her mouth onto mine.
Without breaking the kiss, I hoisted her into my arms, bearing her to the bedroom.
As we entered the room, I laid her gently on the bed, and I couldn't take my eyes off her. The dim light illuminated her beauty, casting shadows over her curves and lines that only enhanced her allure.
I began to undress her slowly, taking in every inch of her skin with my lips, my hands, my every sense. I pushed my body on top of hers, her soft curves molding to my hard muscles, as I restrained her hands above her head, not letting her touch me.
I peeled off her shirt, revealing a lacy bra that barely contained her breasts. I lowered my mouth to her chest, kissing and biting her nipples until they hardened and begged for more.
Her body was slick with sweat and desire as she moaned and writhed beneath me. Without hesitation, I plunged my hand down the front of her jeans, my fingers immediately met with her wetness and the desperate need that radiated from her.
"Hector!" she gasped, panting heavily, "Stop!"
Instantly, I pulled away from her, worried that I may have hurt her in some way.
Her words hung in the air, her gasping breaths doing nothing to ease my concern. "What's wrong? Was I too rough?" I asked, genuinely confused by her reaction.
She remained silent, hastily snatching her shirt off the floor and pulling it back on. Her movements were quick and shaky, and I couldn't help but feel anxious.
Without wasting another moment, she made her way to the large window that overlooked the city's snow-covered buildings. Her arms were tightly crossed around her body as if she were trying to hold herself together.
"Frankie, please," I pleaded, sinking to my knees in front of her. "Talk to me. What did I do wrong?"
Finally, she turned to face me, tears glinting in her eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke. "You wanted me. That's what you did wrong," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
My heart sank at her words as I realized that she was not ready for any sort of physical intimacy.
"But I do want you. And that's the only right thing I've ever done," I replied, desperation creeping into my voice. "But you have to talk to me. "You have to let me in!"
"And tell you what? That I'm so fucked up that I can't even have sex with the only man I've ever wanted? You wouldn't understand!" she yelled, her voice breaking.
My heart nearly shattered at the sound of her words, and all I wanted to do was take away her pain. I insisted, my hands gently cupping her face. "Baby, please talk to me."
She shook her head, her voice growing more frantic with each passing second.
"You wouldn't understand. I'm too fucked up! I don't know why I'm like this or how to fix it. And it's just so exhausting," she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks and I doubted she was even aware of them.
Without hesitation, I reached up and brushed away her tears, softly holding her face in my hands. "What did they do to you?"
She leaned into my touch, her body shaking with sobs.
"They hurt me, Hector. They raped me. They beat me and my brother and starved us. They took everything from me, they took my innocence, and I'll never get it back!" she sobbed, letting go of the emotions she'd obviously been bottling up inside for far too long.
I instantly pulled her to my chest, holding her as tight as I could, feeling my heart ache for her and fury course through my veins.
I knew it was the man I watched her kill months ago, and I couldn't help but wish he were still alive. I had countless ways in mind to make him suffer for what he had done to her, enough to make even the devil turn away.
"I got you, we'll get through this, I promise."