I barely register Bianca’s words. Everything slows and rushes at once. My jaw locks. My throat burns. I’m cold. I’m hot. I’m shaking. I’m stone.
Because that nature preserve where Alissa and Maddox apparently found some poor girl’s severed head?
Not only is it close to the Caterpillar Hotel.
But it’s the same place where Ray Sinclair and his buddies initiated me into The Club.
And from there it was a slippery slope to the darkest moment of my life…
The Dimpsey house is on a hill, so their basement opens to their backyard. Ray showed me a trick using a fire extinguisher to freeze the lock on the door so we can kick it down pretty easily.
Before we went inside, he gave me a cigarette to calm my nerves. I’d never smoked before, but I didn’t say so. Of course, my constant coughing revealed my amateur status pretty quickly. Ray was rolling his eyes the whole time.
Damn it. Did I already screw this up?
Max and Corey are keeping watch at the front and back door of the house, respectively. They don’t have any score to settle with Hector, so they’re our lookouts.
From there, we walked up the stairs to the master bedroom. We secured duct tape around Hector’s dad’s mouth and managed to get his hands tied to the headboard of his bed without waking him up. He must have taken a sleeping pill or something, because that was a hell of lot easier than either of us imagined.
Now we’re in Hector’s room. He, however, did not take a sleeping pill, and his eyes shoot open as soon as we start tying his hands together. He grunts and squirms, and when he sees that it’s me who’s helping, he really starts thrashing. But Ray is bigger than he is, and our combined strength is enough to get him into a rolling office chair and bring him over to his father’s bedroom.
“Here’s where the fun begins,” Ray says with a grin. He slaps Dimpsey’s cheeks. “Wake up, Daddy. Come on!”
Dimpsey’s eyes open, and within a few seconds he’s pulling against the restraints, but we’ve got them tied tight. He’s not going anywhere.
Ray walks around Hector’s chair and massages his shoulders. “Now it’s time for you to feel what you’ve made my buddy Harry feel every day for the last year, fuckhead.”
Hector struggles against the ropes around his arms, his face turning beet red.
I can’t lie. I don’t hate seeing him in this vulnerable position.
I have mixed feelings about the dad, though.
Ray crosses to Dimpsey’s bed and unbuttons his pajama shirt, letting his gut spill out over his pants. Dimpsey continues to resist, but he’s tied down tight. Ray grabs a black duffel bag he brought with him and pulls out a candle—the same one from my initiation—and a chef’s torch. He ignites the torch and holds it under the candle, letting the hot wax drip onto Dimpsey’s bare chest. With each drip, Dimpsey squirms.
“Calm down, Dimpsey. This is just a warm-up for the real thing.”
Ray pulls out a fireplace poker and holds it under the torch until it’s red. He then jams it against Dimpsey’s belly, leaving scorch marks in his wake. Dimpsey lets out a muffled shriek and flails on the bed like he’s fucking possessed. I look over at Hector. He’s trying to cry out as well, and he’s shaking like a damned washing machine.
Something catches in my throat.
I’m… I’m not feeling sorry for this guy, am I?
The wax didn’t bother me too much. Hell, some people enjoy getting hot wax dripped over their bodies. I read about it in a dirty magazine I found under my dad’s pillow.
But this… I don’t like this.
Dimpsey is going to be covered in burn marks.
Hector’s eyes are filled with tears, and he’s no longer straining against the ropes. In fact, his eyes are squeezed shut.
“Make him open his eyes, Harry,” Ray says. “He needs to see what it’s like to have someone you love get hurt.”
I try my best, but every time I get a grip on Hector’s face, he worms out of my hands. They’re wet with his tears, so I can’t get a solid hold on him.
“I… I can’t get him to do it,” I say.
“For fuck’s sake.” Ray rolls his eyes and then walks over to me, handing me the fireplace poker. “I’ll hold his eyes open, and you take the next round.”
