I grab his throat, ready to strangle him, “I don’t fuck stupid little boys, Juan.” I let go and he gasps for air. “I am going to offer you a lot of money for something only you can give me, and then you are going to leave Hunts Point. Go home, stupid boy. You don’t belong here.” He nods his head with tears in those brown eyes. “I want your kidney, you only need one so you will be just fine without it. You will get fifty-thousand dollars to shut up and go home?” I look at him now, “Or, I take your kidney and I kill you and no one even knows you are gone. Choose, and do it fast. I am a busy man.”
I turn away to light a smoke, while I let him think. I hate paying for parts, so if he doesn’t decide fast, I will decide for him.
“I will go home. You can have it and I will go. Please don’t kill me.” He sobs on the floor. I am not in the mood to keep him here now. I am angry and slightly inconvenienced, which is never a good combination. That, together with his crying, makes me cover my ears for a second to try make the noise inside my head stop. “Good. Come, let us go.” I pull him to his feet so we can leave. “When last did you eat, boy?” I ask him as we exit the building.
“I don’t know, two, maybe three days ago.” I decide to make a food stop on the way, the poor kid is skinny and his body will start to eat itself soon. Live donors need to be healthy enough to survive surgery and recovery. I lock the boy in the car while I go into the dive around the corner to get some food. The smell of old cooking oil and sweat is vile, it overrides the appetite I had earlier. I order the boy a burger and some fries and the same for myself, even though I am no longer hungry. The small Greek man behind the counter takes my money, wiping his nose with his sleeve before he puts it in the register. My mind is already wandering back to her, I have looked into those eyes before. I know who she is, I have seen them before and I see them often when I close my eyes to sleep. Fuck that Russian! I made the wrong deal a long time ago; I was too selfish to fix it then, but now I have no choice and my business arrangement with him has come to an end.
The man hands me a paper bag with the food in it and a handful of paper serviettes. I shudder, thinking his snotty hand just touched them and leave them on the counter before I return to the boy and my car.
I hand him the paper bag so I can start the car. “Eat. You look sick, as if you should be on some National Geographic documentary.” He dives into the bag of food like he has never eaten before at all. I am not sure why Pavel doesn’t feed them. I understand not letting them have drugs because it’s expensive, but starving them seems bad for business.
Upstairs from the working floor of my operation is the small apartment where Mateo lives. An industrial kitchen - I think this was a meth lab at one point because there is fire damage in the one corner of the kitchen. Next to the kitchen are eleven bunk rooms, each having a sink, a toilet and a bunk-bed. They look like a prison cell inside. We had them cleaned and made livable when I leased the space, but we rarely use them unless we have a donor like Juan that needs a place to recover. Sometimes the medical staff crashes in them when they have back to back work days; I don’t venture upstairs often enough to care that much. I need one of them now, well two, but just one for Juan at the moment.
When we arrive, I take him inside and buzz Mateo from my phone. It rings off and I dial again; this time he answers me. “Stop fucking around and get down here, our kidney just walked in.” He starts to answer but I am already hanging up. Little shit, he is always fucking around when I need him.
“Mateo will take care of you here until next Thursday. You may not leave this building, are we clear? You go nowhere and you do whatever he says.” The boy nods but his slutty little eyes are all over Mateo. I shake my head, you are entirely too alive for his tastes right now. Maybe later, boy. “Mateo, get him processed for a live donation and put him in a cell upstairs. Then come see me. The Russian is going out of business today.”
The frown on his face says it all. Pavel supplies us with free bodies and this isn’t good for our business. The thing is, I paid him for those free bodies years ago, and I have just seen for myself what the price was. I want a fucking refund. I am angry, I hate being angry - I hate feeling at all, it is an inconvenience. I go to my office and breathe in my stale, smoky air while I try to turn off the rage. I wonder if his watch dog is dead. I fucking hope he is, the smug shit.
I have burned my way through half the packet of smokes I just bought by the time Mateo comes down. He has that shit eating grin on his face that makes me want to slap him.
“He is nicer than Pavel’s usual shit,” he says as he collapses into the chair in front of me. “But fucking hell, have you lost your mind paying a whore fifty-k for a kidney?” I click my neck as I flex it to the side so he can tell I’m already on the edge and he should shut the fuck up now.
“Shut the fuck up, Mateo. I want you to have the cell closest to your rooms cleaned, and I mean fucking properly. You go buy some shit to make it a room, bedding and toiletries and stuff.”
“For the boy?” he furrows his brows. His confused gaze is only adding to my impending explosion. “Are we keeping him?”
“No, you dumb fuck. We are not keeping him, but someone will be staying here with you. I also need a doctor waiting here for me, not the slimy creepy fucks. Get the Polish lady.”
“She’s at the clinic today, boss,” he answers back.
“Did I ask where she was or did I say get her? Why is everything so hard for you, Mateo?” I try not smash his face in like I want to. Talking, talking, I hate it; just fucking stop and listen to me!
“I am shutting the Russian down. Go get what I asked you to and call that slimy little lady pimp you deal with, Madame what’s her face, and tell her to come collect Pavel’s shit. She can have them - a gift. At least she fucking feeds her whores.” I open my desk drawer and take out the two guns I keep for days like this. “Get them to light the incinerators for me, and make them like the fires of hell. I want two of the doormen out front too. Hugo will come with me for this.”
So with a gun and a rage that I cannot explain, nor do I understand, I leave the safety of my world and I am going to go and get some goodbyes. Not the free or willing ones, the ones I take with force and flames. The men that Mateo called wait for me outside. They are muscle - no brains are required for their jobs, they are simply there to hurt anyone who tries to get close. The burly black man whose name I never cared to learn nods and greets me, “Boss.” He and Hugo follow me in another unmarked, beat up black van.
Svetlana
Cut my flesh, make me bleed. Give me the man that makes me burn with need.
“Who did this to your cunt?”
I don’t know, sir, but you can do it again if you’d like.
“Who did this to you here?”
Hmm, touch me again. Make it go away. His rough finger tips felt perfect on my fucked up skin, and his face is scorched into my mind; ruggedly handsome, tall, brooding, and bad, so bad. Burning, searing, delightful throbs tickle between my thighs.
I blink my eyes open to the dimly lit room, still settled on top of the roach infested comforter. I feel my hand between my legs with Mr. Dark and Dangerous on my mind. I hear people in the room next door, but I don’t care. My body is slowly giving way to the abuse its sustained and lack of food; the least I can do is provide myself with the one thing I never had before.
Pleasure.
I bite my bottom lip painfully as I rub my sensitive flesh. It hurts so much, but something is tightening in my belly and I am willing to do anything to make it explode. I picture the unknown man in my thoughts again, how he stood in the doorway with his cigarette between his lips. Oh, his lips, so full and kissable. I haven’t really kissed a man before and I imagine he would be quite good at it. Something about his persona whisks the wind from my lungs as I teeter on the edge of getting off. I try to cling onto every part I remember, but I am dazed between my realities. His black hair with speckles of grey was mussed to perfection and his stance was something n
ot to fuck with. He hard jawline was dusted with stubble and I find myself dreaming of licking it, wondering what it would feel like as it scraped my hungry tongue. His black eyes hold fear, but that is all that people know around here. I want to know what it means. Who is this man and why do I want him to save me?
The loud, familiar Russian voice is getting closer and closer with each passing second. I squeeze my still swollen lids together and see him, tall, dark, and bad, so bad. My voice betrays me as I scream out as I hear him speak the word c-un-t, emphasizing the ‘t’ in a deep, silky Spanish accent. Confusion swirls deep within my core as I hear a man enter the room. Fuck it. I let myself explode as I cry out with visions of the man that I am dying to meet. Yes, dying. I am dying in this piece of shit apartment and the only friends that I have are the birds that tap on the window and the roaches that sleep beneath me for comfort and safety.
Kick.
Comfort and safety do not exist for long, lost gypsy princesses like me.
“Fucking whore! Just like ya Mat’!” Pavel screams, echoes of madness bouncing around the room.
I keep my eyes closed, promising myself that I will hold onto the dream of Mr. Dark and Dangerous. If I die tonight, at least it will be with something decent. Yes, he showed me seconds of decency asking who had hurt me. But why did he care? Fuck trying to figure that out.
Kick. Kick. Kick.
Crack. Another broken rib.
My eyes are forced open to see the monster above me; the very one who has raised me all on his own since I was four-years-old. But I was never wanted or loved. I was nothing more than an issue that he had to often deal with. His blue eyes sparkle with hatred as his blonde hair hangs over his forehead. Still, part of me wishes he would love me. Why? Why must I feel this way when I know it will never be reached?
“You take what is mine, kisa. You should die.”
I surprise myself as my belly erupts into a fit of laughter, sending jolts of unease and discomfort through every pore of my body. This is what rotting alive feels like; being beaten alive, tortured, raped, and starved for days, yet still I cling onto life like a pesky little fucking rat.
“Kill me, Otet. Kill me!” I yell, laughing hysterically.
I think I’m going mad.
Pavel bends down to me and grabs my damaged pussy. I yelp out as agony sears through every part of me, “This isn’t yours, whore. This belongs to me.”
Pavel clamps down harder than before until I feel his pointy fingers prodding into my pubic bone. The aching becomes too much and I try to vomit, but there is nothing in my stomach. As my belly continues to contract to rid its non-existent contents, Pavel releases his grasp. But something in my gut tells me this is just the beginning of my punishment for playing with what isn’t mine.
I look up at him through heavy lids as he undoes his belt, yanking it free violently. His chest is heaving up and down and I swear it seems like he is foaming at the mouth like some diseased dog. Maybe that is just the hallucinations setting in, but the more I am fixated on him, the more terror that fills me.
Whip.
Whip.
Whip.
“Kisa, what happens to bad girls who take what isn’t theirs?”
He retrieves a lighter from his pocket, flicking it until a small flame appears at the end of the metal. I look, inspecting the beautiful orange light, wondering how badly it will hurt me, hoping that whatever he does will make me pass out, never to wake back up again. This terrible life delivered to me, and so many others for that matter, is too much. Being a fighter isn’t always a good thing. Right now, I pray to be weak enough to let go, but still my body remains hanging by a thread.
“Cat got your tongue, whore?” he whispers, licking his lips, then settling his chapped lip between his teeth.
Thrash, whip.
I’m unaffected by the brutal slaps of the leather on my skin. Multiple gashes mark my belly and chest, weeping crimson liquid.
“They die.”
This is a game. One I hope to win. Piss him off enough to kill me. Ha, if only it were that easy.
“Ahhhh, kisa… in your dreams.” he murmurs.
He steps on my right knee, forcing my legs to stay open. Silly Pavel. If he only realized how weak I truly am, I have no choice but to endure what he gives me. He takes his leather belt above his head with a grin full of malice and strikes it on my already damaged pussy. I try to scream, but my voice is mute. I open my mouth, but the overwhelming pain that I feel is wrapping me up, suffocating me and making me understand that I am still among the living at the hands of a madman.
Strike.
“Bad pussy. Bad whore.”
He says it so frankly, like he has done this dozens of times before. Who am I kidding, he has raped and murdered before. I watched him kill my mother at four years old before throwing her body in a dumpster off Hunts Point Boulevard. First memories always hold great meaning to people; unfortunately for me, mine meant that the only love I had ever felt was siphoned and stolen away from me unjustly.
Silent tears stream down my bruised and cut up face, stinging it with its meaninglessness.
Strike. Tear.
I feel blood seeping out of me again and all I can hope for is for this to be the last time. The last time to feel something so horrible. I count the seconds and pray for blackness. Heaven, hell, or even nothingness would suffice, yet I am still breathing in this dilapidated apartment room.
“Where’s Big Daddy when ya need him, kisa? Blood and gore he like with his whore,” Pavel bites, then barks in laughter.
“Kill me. Please. Please,” I whimper, breathless and out of energy.
“You only wish, kisa. Where is my boy, Juan?”
Mr. Dark and Dangerous, who are you and why haven’t you come to save me?
I don’t provide him with an answer. He doesn’t deserve it.
“Kisa, you get hurt much worse if you don’t speak.”
I stare up at the ceiling, counting the watermarks that are beginning to melt into one another. There is a large crack in the corner and I’m surprised that it isn’t gaping open from the water dripping inside slowly.
“Burn, you will burn, kisa.”
Deliver me to hell. Even that is better than this place.
I hear the click of his lighter again as I continue to stare at the ceiling. Something hot gets nearer to my skin, to the place that belongs to Pavel, not me. I used it without permission and now he is going to make me pay. Today, I will be thrown into the fire alive as I beg for death.
The scorching hot flame makes its way to my pussy lips, burning the sparse hair I have down there away, since I am marked with scares from the constant abuse I have endured over the years. The stench is too much. My eyes burn and water and my belly is turning in an agonizing way. I grasp onto the moist, molded carpet so hard, I feel my nail crack.
“Dirty, dirty cunt. You smell like shit. No one would want you anymore anyway, whore. You be branded for life. Trash.”
The fire melds itself with my pussy lip, searing through my skin. The boiling sensation is too much. I am praying, begging, and pleading to both God and Lucifer for death, yet they don’t give it to me. Instead, I am surrounded by the echoing of Pavel’s demonic cackles. I clutch onto the dirty carpet harder, breaking another nail, feeling the blood rush through my fingertips.
I feel the fire cease from my skin only for an instant. I lazily lift my chin up to see Pavel between my legs, wiping his forehead free from sweat. He flicks the lighter on again until the orange flame is brought to life. He smiles at his act. My head falls back as he grabs the other side of my pussy lip, bringing the fire-hot flame onto my skin. My chest gurgles and pain starts to leave me. My eyes are becoming harder and harder to move and I allow my fingers to relax and settle on top of the wet carpet.
I still feel the little movements underneath me that I hated so much before, but now they are becoming less and less prevalent, which makes me smile. Smile, yes. I am smiling. I feel the end is near a
s the sensation of the roaches under me dissipates with each fleeting moment. Seconds later, Pavel’s touch is undetected. I am nothing more than a science experiment, a frog being dissected alive while the scientist admires body parts being taken away in pieces.
I feel like my soul is being sucked away from me, drifting off to a Neverland of void. This is the breakdown and who I was meant to be. The goodbye I have yearned for has finally come, though no words were spoken for me to say goodbye to. The only thing I have on my mind is the man who stole my heart for seconds. But he is gone just like everything else in my life. Nothing lasts. Nothing is good or true. And it doesn’t matter because my time is over.
Then, the faint cackles from Pavel’s lungs stop. Commotion is all that I hear as a set of familiar hands touch my body.
Blackness wraps me in a tight hug, telling me to let go. But the hands that I wanted so much before are pleading with me to stay. Is the world worth one more chance?
Caesar
When the price you paid is too high, you should take your money back.
We park both vans illegally in front of the building where I live and where Pavel runs his business, the same place where all the sinister filth of the area hides from the world.
If I come with muscle, then it’s generally not a social call and I see the street rats scurry away to warn those inside of my arrival. It won’t matter, I am here to collect and I won’t be leaving without him - and her. I can feel the tightening of every muscle in my body, the burning that every pulse of my heart pushes through my veins, setting my anger on fire. That trigger that sets my insanity free has been pulled. I had this same feeling when I saw Marta in a dumpster from my bedroom window above. It was the first and last message from the Russian, and now I am going to reply. I can see the lady I told Mateo to call, hovering on the pavement like the black plague that infests these streets hanging in the air we breathe. Her Cheshire grin and pink talons are the image you would see in nightmares. Only here nightmares walk the streets and snatch up dreamers to eat alive every day. Don’t close your eyes to dream here, because it isn’t always me that will come to get you.
The Goodbye Man (Red Market #1) Page 6
