When my head stopped pulsating, I used the wall for support to lift myself off the floor. Melody finally tore her eyes from the corner and followed me to the closet. I removed the unlocked padlock from its hinge and twisted the doorknob. Another one of my renovations.
I pulled one of the cheap plastic drawers towards me that was resting on top of a storage locker and reached in for a roll of duct tape. After ripping a good length, I tossed the roll back inside and slid the drawer closed. Melody started to writhe in the chair again as the tape closed in on her mouth. She shook her head back and forth in an attempt to delay the inevitable. Holding her face still with one hand, and some struggle, I managed to get it on.
I wandered back into the hall, closing the door behind me. I knew if she screamed loud enough without a hindrance, Ben would faintly hear her from the living room and I wasn't in a hurry to prove him right.
Yes, keeping Daniel's daughter as a hostage in my house endangered me, but he was in no way worthy of judging me. His hypocrisy would induce an even greater temper and I didn't have time to deal with my emotions.
Once I entered the living room, I didn't look at Ben until I was swallowed by the loveseat across from him. He stared down at his hands with a glum expression. "Al, my cousin called me. She's really freaked out."
Oh, so that's why you're really here.
I clenched my teeth with frustration then gave him a sarcastic remark, "Your cousin must have missed the definition of confidentiality in her studies."
Honestly, I didn't think my breakdown warranted that breach of confidentiality. She didn't know I was a danger to the Roberts'; all she knew was that I was having a hard time adjusting. Even then, if she was going to tell someone, it shouldn't have been a person of the fucking public.
Ben gave a deep sigh while he raised his left hand to his face. "Dude, I'm sorry, but she has been up my ass about you for a couple of days now, threatening to report you if I didn't come talk to you. What was I supposed to do?" He threw his hand down, exasperated.
Fucking bitch. Rachel must have informed him right after it happened. However, if she would have reported me, chances are that I would have been locked up in the looney bin until my episodes stopped. Perhaps in her eyes—and definitely in mine—that decision would have ruined my friendship with Ben and even though it was a rational fear of hers, I would have been more concerned about it fucking up my revenge on the Roberts. I guess all in all, I should have been thankful for her wanting to help me in an unorthodox way.
"I think maybe I should get a new therapist. How am I supposed to be honest with her when I'm paranoid she could be telling anyone about my problems?" I was monotone, showing no emotion.
"That's the whole reason this got out of control in the first place! You aren't effectively communicating your feelings and it's making it more difficult for her to help you. The only reason she had to tell me was because you wouldn't let her help you and now she's scared you're becoming a danger to yourself. I don't even know why you've been ignoring me because"—he gave a brief pause—"you know you can trust me, right?"
His eyes desperately searched for confirmation, but why should I have deceived him or at least completely? If there was one good thing my father taught me, it was not to trust corrupt people. Although, I wish I learned not to trust all types of people. Maybe if he brought around more decent individuals, I would have realized that everyone was capable of breaking my trust.
I eventually learned, even if it had to be the hard way, when Alice took a liking to Javier. I realized everyone had obscured motives and all she desired was excitement, but then she grew bored of me.
You could give your all to the ones you love and it should always be enough, but they'd brush it off as if it wasn't adequate—as if you weren't adequate. Sure, you could try to enhance your efforts, but even if you achieved some encouragement, nothing you'd do would matter because they already made up their mind.
I felt as though she was laughing at my ignorance. I was destroyed. That was why I decided I couldn't live for anyone but myself. Nothing would change that truth.
"No, I don't trust you," I said, watching his face fall, "with this, okay? In other areas, I know you have my back, but when it comes to the Roberts' and with what's going on with me mentally, I-I just can't." I shook my head.
His expression lightened and he tried to give me uplifting words, but I wouldn't buy into it. Instead I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to discuss.
"Yes, there actually is. To add to all the BS you've been facing, everyone is spreading a rumor that you're more of a threat than an asset. They say I let you do whatever you want and do it free of consequence."
"You think I give a shit what your friends have to say about me or our relationship?" My voice was stern and more harsh than I intended.
He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "N-no, but you're going to have to contribute a bit more since you left that kid in the alley. It'll put people at ease and hopefully that'd be enough to make them feel like you deserve everything you've been given."
I gripped the arm of the couch, causing the leather to squeak. A dozen moments of silence thickened the tension as I pondered a response. It was quite insulting that people thought I didn't earn what I had. It didn't matter though and I didn't care if people saw me as a threat. Even if I found their trivial opinions to be of value, there was no need to start an argument over it; I couldn't afford it.
I was staring at the unlit, dusty fireplace when I started thinking aloud, "I'll visit Hernandez when I have a chance and clear some things up. I'll do more if that makes you happy, but—"
"Dude, thank you," he interrupted with a toothy smile on his face.
I glared at him. "But I'm going to need you to let me finish this feud I have."
The corners of his mouth pulled down at the thought, but he agreed anyway. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do if something comes up and I mean anything, okay?"
Afterwards, Ben got up without saying much else and quietly showed himself out. I reached for the release on the side of the couch to recline backwards and shut my eyes with a sigh.
Ben had many layers to his personality and I believed our discussion exhibited how indulgent he could be for a criminal. I knew if it was any other person in my shoes, they would have already been shot and buried in the Boneyard.
I couldn't help but notice that he was acting differently. Any one of his circumstances could have changed since I last saw him, clarifying the inconsistency. However, it still wouldn't explain why he felt so uneasy. He had never been one to feel that way about anything, not even killing people.
~~ 3 years ago ~~
"Oh wow! It's nice to see you. I didn't think you would come around!" the blond kid's voice shrieked in my direction. He sounded a little surprised, but I knew he wasn't because I didn't really have any other choice.
When he had first asked me to come visit him at work, it wasn't just a selfish request to gloat about his expertise, but to also offer me a job. I was sure his kindness was the result of finding me in an embarrassing, life-altering predicament. Perhaps he thought whatever he did for work would help make me feel better or at the very least make good money.
"Yeah, I figured I'd entertain whatever you're offering," I replied with a half-assed smile.
Garrison slowly approached me with a bit of pep in his step, walking as though he was about to break into song. I slightly chuckled to myself at his excess of confidence until he was standing in front of me. He playfully waggled his eyebrows while lifting his hand to reveal a small key. It looks like it goes to a padlock?
I wondered what it was for, but before I could ask, he cocked his head in the direction of the warehouse behind him. "We've been finalizing a project in there, but there's a small building behind it. I'd like you to come with me and see what exactly we'd have to offer."
Even prior to me coming out here, when Ben was describing his work, he gave no hint to what it entailed. It was a bit abnormal, but he never said anything that raised any red flags.
"Yeah, sure. Let's go," I muttered as I took the key from his hand.
We started trudging through the tall, uncut fescue grass and despite Garrison being an animated guy, he sure liked taking his time escorting me to the shack. I didn't mind the inconvenience as it gave me a moment to take in the grassy field surrounding a lot of ponderosa pine trees.
I inhaled deeply, getting a whiff of the vanilla scented bark. It reminded me of my mother's perfume and a time when things weren't too complicated at home. Before I left, the only scent that enveloped the house was the smell of Jack and Pall Mall cigarettes.
At the time, I thought it was good to get away, but I feel my life could have been better had I stayed. Sure, I would have continued working at that shitty job in that shit town to make a shitty sum, but at least I'd still have a sense of gravity. I wouldn't be lost right now, searching to regain my footing.
"Once we get inside you can't leave until you completely understand what an opportunity this is for you. Is that okay?" Ben was asking to be polite. Nevertheless, I concurred.
When we entered the old shack, it was like stepping inside an oven, causing blood to rush to the surface of my skin. The sunlight lit the room from outside the door, casting two shadows against the floor. Spider webs glimmered across the ceiling joists, swaying as the hot air escaped.
Ben flicked an exposed light switch and a few work lights turned on. A bench with various tools spread across the top caught my attention, causing bewilderment at first, but then my gaze shifted to a young man sitting in the middle of the room. He was strapped to a steel chair with brown leather straps.
"What the hell is this?" I quickly inquired, my voice cracking.
The oven door scraped across the rotting wood from behind, making me pivot towards Ben.
He chuckled. "I told my boss about Javi; he was impressed."
I looked back to the kid and was captivated by his fearful eyes. It was a fear I recognized and something I understood too well. I suspected that whatever he had done, there was no bargaining his way out.
Ben pushed past me to get to the bench and picked up a pair of expensive cigar scissors. I pulled back as he walked over to me, holding them out for me to take. My trembling hands subconsciously reached for the scissors. The sweat from my fingers smudged the stainless steel as I closely inspected them.
"You shouldn't be afraid. This is an opportunity," Ben reassured.
I held the scissors back out to him. "I don't want to kill anyone."
"Tck. This is different. This kid"—Ben pointed back at him—"isn't innocent, but Javi was and you had no problem cutting off his hands and both of his heads."
"What did he do?" I asked, looking at the kid. I finally saw the white handkerchief gag in his mouth.
"He raped one of my supervisors' nieces. Got away with it too."
I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I still can't do this."
"Just... torture him a bit and I'll take care of the rest. How's that?" Ben was desperate, trying to persuade me. It made me wonder what would happen if I refused.
I looked down at the tool in my hand as sweat dripped down my temple and into my eye. I wiped it with the back of my clammy hand and gave Ben a nod.
The kid's eyes were wide as I hesitantly walked over to him. His teeth were exposed since his cheeks were pulled back by the handkerchief. The closer I got, I realized the material wasn't white, but a dusty tan from the particles catching on his saliva.
His muffled voice tried to reach me, but I tuned him out, reaching for his fingers. The edge of the sharp cigar scissors wrapped around the first joint. I applied pressure, stilling his trembling index finger. I squeezed the handle as hard as I could, slicing through the skin and until I heard the joint snap.
The tip of his finger fell off with blood pooling down the arm of the chair. His body convulsed as he tried kicking the chair backwards with his feet; it wouldn't move, even with the loose bolts hanging onto withered wood.
Everything felt slow as I moved down to the next joint and then the knuckle. My bloodied hands were shaking as I moved to the middle finger. Before I cut all the way through, I looked down at the fleshy bits sprawled out on the floor. I became dizzy and my stomach churned. The soaked scissors fell out of my hand and I doubled over next to the chair. I gagged a couple times and a mixture of saliva, stomach acid and this morning's breakfast splattered on the floor.
"Okay. That's enough," Ben said behind me. I wiped my mouth and looked back to see he had a sharp bowie knife in his hand. He slid the blade into his gut and the hostage shrieked for a moment, but his face froze as if his mind was paralyzed. I couldn't look away while Ben pulled the blade across his gut; it split the kid's skin open wide, revealing his intestines. They slithered onto his jeans like hot spaghetti on a glass plate.
"It's jobs like these that you have to appreciate, Alistair. It's an outlet." Ben tilted the kid's head back and rammed the knife through his eye socket. I quickly looked away, but his skull crunched as he twisted the knife and yanked it out. I involuntarily vomited again with no end in sight. "Otherwise, you might lose your mind."