His brows shoot up. “You fucking punk.”
He takes a step toward me, and tall man lifts a hand, stopping him. His eyes, now a darker shade of gray below slanted eyebrows, making him look scary and nothing like the friendly man from a moment ago, sweeps over my face and body as though contemplating whether I’m lying or not. “Do you want me to kill him?” he asks me. Slowly, I shake my head and he frowns. “Then?”
“I want to kill him,” I growl, baring my teeth like a rabid dog.
Three different sounds follow my words. A snort from the short man. A soft laugh from the tall man and an incredulous, “what the fuck,” from Monster.
Still, I keep my hard glare on my stepfather, hoping he takes my threat seriously but he merely smirks, shaking his head like he can’t believe what I’d just said.
“Here you go.” I flick my gaze from Monster to the tall man. He’s holding out a gun to me. “Go on then, let me see if you have the balls to kill him.”
“Are you fucking—”
Monster’s words slam to a stop before his shocked gaze registers the smoking gun in my hand and the bullet to his neck. His chest heaving, his hand wavers trying to cover the spurting blood. Quickly, it spread, soaking his white t-shirt and turning it pink. He opens his mouth to say something, but thick black blood oozes out his lips and dribbles down the sides, his words garbled as he struggles to breathe. Standing for just a second longer, his other hand reaches out, his beady eyes pleading for help before he falls, face forward, hitting the ground hard.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tall man grins, his gaze shifting from Monster’s writhing body to mine. “Looks like you’ve got bigger balls than I thought.”
He winks at me, but I just stare. That doesn’t mean I got rid of one fucker, I can’t do the same to anyone else. The difference is, tall man looks like someone who can teach me a thing or two. And now I’m itching to learn. Behind me, my brother’s grip tightens on my t-shirt. He hasn’t made a sound yet, not even when I shot Monster or when the fucker fell, bleeding out. I look back at my dead stepfather. Strangely, I feel nothing. No relief, no joy, and no peace. The sight of his blood pooling around him like a dark shadow tickles something in me. Something I can’t clearly describe, yet it calls to me, in music so seductive, I can tell it’s going to consume my soul.
Short man steps forward, distracting me. “You just saved us twenty grand.” Then he smirks, black eyes filling with an evil I hadn’t seen before, not even in Monster’s eyes. “Not like we intended paying the fucker.”
I don’t get a chance to question him because tall man takes the gun from my hand and points to the door. “Let’s go,” he says. “Do you want to take anything with you?” he asks as an afterthought and when he does, I know our lives might get better. I nod and he checks his watch, yet his expression remains friendly. “You’ve got a minute. Leave your clothes, you’ll get new ones.”
Taking my brother’s hand, I walk him upstairs. It doesn’t take us long. A minute later, we join the two in the foyer. Tall man glances at my brother’s backpack strapped to his shoulders that he’d filled with his favorite puzzles and one or two other things he wanted.
Then his gaze shifts to the single item in my hand. “Just that?” he asks.
I look down at the only important thing to me, there’s nothing else I want to remind me of our former life. We follow them outside to three shiny black Mercedes and tall man slides in with us into the middle one while short man climbs into the one behind us. Again, I wonder who they are, but I don’t ask. If they wanted to tell us, they would.
As the car pulls away from the curb, I don’t bother glancing back at the house, don’t care that orange flames are now licking at the dry wood and green paint. Don’t feel anything for the roasting bodies of Monster or my mother.
Instead, I look at my brother. He’s smiling. My heart clenches at the happiness on his face, the twinkle reflected in his eyes every time we pass a streetlight yet his tight grip on my thigh never eases up. Like he’s scared I will leave him. Reaching out, I move a lock of hair curled over his brow. My mother never bothered with our hygiene or looks which fell to my shoulders. Even though I had no idea what I was doing, I’d cut our hair, which meant sometimes we got weird looks because it wasn’t straight or neat.
We continue staring at each other, for how long, I don’t care. All I know is that we’re safe. Everything is going to be all right. Hopefully.
A sudden blare of a horn drags my gaze up and out the window. Bright lights, white and glaring, blind me for just a moment. My hand shoots up to shield my eyes and the next few minutes happen so fast, I can’t grasp it. One moment I’m upright, the next, my world turns upside down. I’m floating. Deep, black space surrounds me. Am I back in the spaceship? Only this time, no tiny planets are dotting the blackness. Worse, Obi-Wan isn’t in the pilot seat next to me.
Then I blink. No. I’m the one out of my seat. I try to focus but bone-jarring pain smacks my body. All I hear is chaos between groans. Gunfire. Yes. No. I’m not sure. Then the sound of glass shattering and metal clanking. My body lurches and my brother’s leg slams into my face as we’re tossed around. We roll, we jerk, we flip. Then nothing. Stillness, cluttered by the odd burst of creaking metal, the hiss of air. My chest hurts as I inhale. My head pounds.
Adrenaline runs through my veins, forcing me to move. My head jerks around, searching for my brother. He’s hanging upside down while I lay on the roof of the car, my legs twisted at an angle. I open my mouth to call him. Only a wheeze rasps out. Blood drips from a wound to his temple and his mouth. I reach out, screaming but can’t move, the sound of my voice still unheard. My gaze jerks to tall man. He’s also hanging suspended by his seatbelt, his eyes closed, blood flows from his nose. My blood heats, my heart rate spinning out of control. Then I see it. A face, an ogre, an animal? I can’t tell. My vision blinded. I put a hand to my forehead, and it comes away wet. Gooey with something thick. Blood.
Still, the creature moves closer. I shift my gaze to my brother and blink. Is the ogre taking my brother—my brother’s face is disappearing, being pulled away into the blackhole. I reach out a hand. I feel nothing. I open my mouth to scream. Nothing. The ache in my head becomes a thundering drum. I can’t focus. My eyes bulge. Still, I try to grab him, my fingers grasping empty air.
“Sleep, pequeño.” A hand on my throat coaxes, pressing tighter.
My stomach lurches. My heart clenches. My breathing bellows around me. No! I try to move. To go to my brother. My hands flail. Clawing. Grabbing. Sinking into thick flesh. Until I can’t anymore, my body growing weightless. I feel light. Dreamy. My heartbeat sounds distant as though it’s fading, slowing by the second. Dying. Then nothing. Just plain darkness once more as space calls to me and I go until everything grows silent, even my heartbeat.
Metal clanks somewhere in my head, tiny little noises that sound like me and my brother’s sword fight with pieces of steel rods we’d found in the woodlands. Am I dreaming because I can’t see him? Everything is still dark. Then something cold touches the back of my shoulder and I jerk awake. I struggle to open my eyes. They feel heavy and sore like I’ve been sleeping too long. When the coldness slaps my skin once more, I glance over my shoulder. My vision is blurred and I blink to focus. I try to move my hands, but they hurt. Jerking, I pull. Nothing.
My brow drops and the feel of soft leather has me lifting my head. I’m lying face down on a leather chair that looks like the ones in a dentist’s office. I saw it in a horror movie once and it scared me then. Just the memory has me yanking harder at my hands. My skin sticks to the leather making sucking sounds as I move. The sudden bite of metal into my wrists, stop my movements. I’m handcuffed to something under the chair.
“Let me go!” I yell, finding my voice but it’s a feeble squeak, the inside of my mouth dry and fury. Movement behind me shifts my gaze and I look over my shoulder. I can’t see anyone.
“Relax, pequeño,” that voice again.
I strain my neck, twisting as far back as the restraints will allow. A partial view of a man’s face meets my eyes—a large man with thick greasy hair. His thin lips curve in a sinister smile, vacant black eyes framed by bushy eyebrows stare back at me. A yellow bandana tied around his neck covers his chin, probably used as a mask. For what? My gaze lowers as he pulls on black rubber gloves. My heart squeezes with something I don’t immediately recognize.
Then like Monster, the man touches me where a man shouldn’t touch a child. But his touch is different, almost like that of a doctor’s examination. I drop my head, hiding my humiliation. The snap of his rubber gloves has me looking over my shoulder again. He changes his gloves before his hand moves over my ass cheeks then lower, running over my legs, my calves. Somewhere my brain urges me to ask him what he plans on doing, but nothing comes out of my open mouth. Still, I watch him. His hands move up. My lower back then to my shoulders. He moves out of focus and my eyes fall to a steel table near the chair. It’s full of silver instruments I’ve seen in horror movies, all sharp and weirdly shaped, glinting now and then from the light of a burning fire in one corner of the room.
