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“You’re such a twat. Stop being weird.” but I have the world’s most awkward smile, too. Not because of the situation, no that’s fucked. Like 10-10 fucked. I’d rather sit on a sledge hammer and put my tits in bear traps than deal with this shit. But I’d rather have to get through it with him than anyone else, so that’s a positive. Yay! Casual first-degree murders, plural!

“Okay so, pick a hand… one for pressing conversation, the other for the favour” and he puts his hands behind his back. Fucking, really, Nik? But I nod to the right hand, I may as well play along. He’s trying very hard to Sawyer-ify this particular flaming shit-meets-fan extravaganza.

“And we have…” bringing his hand round to the front and opening it to reveal, fuck all “…yeah I didn’t prepare. Anyway, the conversation… I need to know the leverage”

I just stare at him blank faced. I haven’t got a fucking clue. I tell him so. He starts grilling me through all these questions. Obviously I’ve stashed drugs and packages, had the lads round after a scrap, all the usual shit but the more I talk the more he shakes his head. Then he starts grilling my family tree, apparently nobody compromised or close enough to be leverage-able. He questions Dan’s activities, he questions everything. Dan doesn’t kill people, he doesn’t smuggle people, he sells kilos of whatever to whoever will buy them. And a bit of dodgy other shit, he’s like a fence-middleman. He keeps interrogating, running through an endless list of possibilities and it starts pissing me off.

“No, I’ve never murdered anybody, Nik!” I tell him, exasperated and getting very pissed off, I keep answering “I’m telling you no, I’ve never even touched a… oh shit”

The fucking gun, Sawyer. They were never going to give you the gun to handle Nik. But they did get you to touch it.

“Nik, what do you fucking mean? Why the fuck? So now I’m on the hook for a double… ah shit, that’s… that’s fucking funny” and I burst out laughing. Not a little bit. My whole face loses any control I ever had over it, I laugh until I pee a little. My stomach hurts, like so bad. This is not funny. Why am I laughing uncontrollably? It’s not funny, Sawyer. Not. Funny.

Girl, what the fuck are you doing? Oh god, double murder. My fingerprints on the gun. Oh… shit. The laughing subsides, the “oh shits” change in tone until I dry heave again, the heave turns to a cry, a shaking ugly cry.

Nik holds me like a cage against an evil, conspiring world determined to destroy me. I can feel the flames fanning his back. He begins to vibrate in a way I’ve not seen before. It’s unsettling, but I can’t put my finger on it. He cups my face, apologises. Kisses my forehead in that familiar, reassuring way and then turns his back to me; facing the bathroom door.

Twenty Two

Nik

A message must be sent. She is off limits. I close my eyes for a second, take a deep breath. And boot the door off of its fucking hinges.

I pounce into the bath, knife in hand, and cut the pillowcase from his head and remove his gag. This piss stained agent of Satan is about to learn a dire lesson on behalf of his employer. I don’t care that he’s shaking, and his muffled screams add to my thrill.

I grab him by his ears and pull him to standing before tossing him from the bathtub onto the floor, jumping out after him I grab him by the collar and drag him to the toilet, which I introduce to his face with extreme enthusiasm, cracking the basin. The noise and his groans inspire me further.

“That’s where you belong, you piece of shit… I bet I can make you fucking fit…”

I don’t care what he’s trying to cry at me when I kick him hard enough in the ribs for him to understand I expect him to “roll fucking over!”

My hands close around his throat with a satisfying choke as he tries with desperate futility to gain oxygen. I watch his eyes bulge.

“Remember this fucking face if you have any doubts about what I will do to you.”

I release and let him cough himself back into consciousness, before grabbing again sending secondary panic into him. Letting him ride the edge between life and death.

“If anything, and I mean anything, happens to her, if she stubs her fucking toe I’m coming for everyone you’ve ever met”

He nearly passes out so I release my grip and just punch the sense out of him. It’s cathartic. It’s fun. I’m enjoying myself.

“Up up up, come on, cunt, time to play”

I drag him by his arm, his wrists still bound behind his back, all the way to Sawyer.

“Apologise! And beg!” and I start wrenching his bound wrists towards his head

He does as he’s told, but I’m enjoying myself, so I keep ripping at his shoulders until the change in scream-pitch and resistance tell me I’m about to break something. I desperately want to break it, but then he has no value alive.

Sawyer looks, unreadable. I’m not good at facial expressions. Fuck knows.

Craig looks terrified and in excruciating pain, which is good. It makes me smile looking down at him, begging.

“One more job” and he squeals. A high pitch absolute bitch of a squeal, looking directly at my crotch.

“That’s not for you, you don’t deserve it. You’ve been a very fucking naughty boy. You will find out where Harry has got that gun, and you will fucking retrieve it… anyway let’s go see Key, shall we?”

I drag him to the top of the stairs, and very strongly contemplate throwing him down them to see how much he bounces. Instead I put him in a chokehold and walk down holding him a couple of steps above me, like he’s a useless wardrobe.