To Watch You Bleed

by Jordon Greene

  Bullet’s gaze had remained steady on Dalton, unmoving. Only his grin had changed, vanishing into a nearly flat line. “You already are.”

  “No,” Dalton cried. “We’ve got money, valuables. You can take any of it. All of it! Take the cars, anything. Just get the hell out of my house.”

  The blade at Mara’s neck drifted away and out of sight as Bullet rose from his crouch. He raised the knife over Mara and extended the handle toward Freddie. Freddie’s hand reappeared and took the knife. He let the sharp end touch Mara’s thigh, letting it lie there precariously.

  Bullet reached behind his back and pulled out a compact pistol. Its black frame was menacing and the unguarded trigger sent a new chill down Dalton’s spine.

  “No, no, no,” Lenore begged as her eyes locked on the weapon.

  He waved the firearm around carelessly, his finger fidgeting on the trigger like it was a toy. He aimed the gun at Lenore, “Yes, yes, yes.”

  Lenore kept repeating the same word, over and over again. “No, no, no, no.” Dalton looked at her for a brief second before returning his eyes to Bullet. She was breaking, or broken.

  “No, let's talk about this,” Dalton begged. The radiance of her sea green eyes was muddled by tears and the hundreds of thin red veins that haphazardly streaked across the whites of her eyes. Her lips frowned, streaks of water-torn makeup lined her cheeks. The weapon came to a stop directly behind Mara.

  "Ah. No. The last thing I want to do right now is talk about it, Dalton." Bullet dug the tip of the barrel into the back of Mara's head, pushing her forward. Mara jumped involuntarily at the realization of what was against her skull. The cold singe of the blade at her thigh became only a minor nuisance in light of the horrid device now fixed in place behind her. Freddie pushed the blade down just enough to remind her of its presence but without drawing blood. She tensed, stuck between two uneasy endings, and froze.

  Dalton began to rise, but before his body could break contact with the recliner, Freddie yanked the knife back. Mara yelped in pain as sanguine lines formed hastily across her thigh. Crimson ribbons streaked in indiscriminate patterns along her tan skin and onto the couch.

  “Sit!” Bullet bellowed, his raspy voice thundering in an authority he had yet to present. “I told you not to move, Dalton.”

  “Why?” Dalton begged. Lenore sobbed uncontrollably.

  “Just sit still and keep your mouth shut,” Bullet ordered. He signed and looked to Skull-face, “Get the first aid kit and patch her up.”

  The boy nodded and stepped away from Dalton after he placed his blade far out of reach. He then extracted a white box from one of the “candy” bags they had brought with them and placed it on the edge of the couch.

  Dalton looked on in bewilderment as the thin boy opened the box and removed a series of bandages and swabs and began to bandage his daughter.

  What the hell are we dealing with?

  CHAPTER 10

  It had been over three years since Aiden remembered talking to the angel in front of him in more than a quick passing “Hey” or “Bye” in the school hallway. The small talk, catching up, had been easier than expected. The stuttering and blanks that typically overcame him in her presence had vanished after the first few awkward seconds.

  “So I hear you have a little sister now,” Aiden half-asked, half-stated. He hated feeling this detached from her.

  “Uh huh, Gloria,” Faith said. “She’ll be two in December. She’s super cute, a little testy though.”

  Aiden giggled in the deepest tone he could muster. Orange and white light flashed brilliantly around Faith. It highlighted the curves of her waist under the red and blue costume and glinted off the plastic golden tiara. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the light, like some mesmerizing hypnosis. Aiden wished he would never have to look away.

  “I don’t have any younger siblings, so I wouldn’t know,” Aiden continued. “But I do still have Mara and that’s a trip sometimes.”

  Laughing, Faith grinned, looking down for a brief moment. Aiden kept smiling. About ten yards on the opposite side of a group of teens to his right, Aiden caught sight of Mason. He had a crooked grin plastered on his face and quickly raised his fist with his thumb erect. The boy was proud of himself, and presumably of Aiden. Aiden shook his head but could not wipe the grin from his own lips. He returned the thumbs up sign just as Faith looked back up.

  “What’s that about?” Faith asked, her left brow raised but still smiling.

  “Just Mason,” Aiden half-laughed. “If he hadn't pushed me, I likely would never have come over here.”

  He paused for a second. He grimaced a bit and then continued, “I wanted to talk to you. I really did. I’ve wanted to talk to you for the past two years, but I couldn't ever get up the courage to approach you again. Mason’s been trying to get me to talk to you for a while.”

  Faith stole a look over her shoulder and found Mason. She grinned and gave him another thumbs up. Mason’s grin intensified. Yeah, he's never going to let me live that down. Ever.

  “Well, maybe I’ll have to thank him one day,” she said.

  His grin grew larger than he thought possible. Aiden was overwhelmed with excitement. He had always thought she wouldn’t want to talk to him, that she would eventually walk off in disinterest. Instead, here she was, still talking, laughing, reminiscing.

  “You want anything to drink before they run out?” he asked. It was getting late. The crowd had already thinned significantly despite the constant throb of the bass thumping through the house. Warm bodies, enveloped in all manners of costumes, still roamed the living area, kitchen, dining room, hallways and Aiden was sure the bedrooms, though fewer costumes remained secured there.

  “Sure,” Faith said.

  “What do want?” Aiden asked.

  “Surprise me,” Faith responded with grin.

  “Dr. Pepper then,” Aiden shrugged. “Yep. It’s Dr. Pepper then.”

  She giggled and shook her head. “I said surprise me, not bring me exactly what I expect you would drink.”

  Aiden grinned. She remembered such a small detail about him. Something about that thrilled him.

  “So no Dr. Pepper then?” he asked. “Surely you’re not going to say no to Dr. Pepper.”

  “Bring me a Dr. Pepper,” Faith replied in fake defeat. Her grin was magnificent as she gave in.

  Giving her one last grin, Aiden took her cup and made his way through the dwindling crowd to the drink bar. He picked up the proper two liter and poured his own cup first. As he began to fill Faith’s plastic red cup, he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder. Mason.

  “It seems to be going good over there,” Mason’s voice barely made it over the music in obvious approval.

  “It’s going well,” Aiden agreed, grinning at his friend.

  “So now. When are you going to admit I was right?” Mason jeered, shaking Aiden jokingly.

  He nearly missed the cup a few times until Mason let him loose. Aiden capped the bottle and placed it back in its spot on the table and picked up the cups.

  “Never, Mason,” he rebelled. “Isn’t going to happen.”

  Mason laughed, “Sure. Well, I’ll let you get back to your girl then I guess.”

  Aiden gave him a simple nod and grin and the two parted ways. Ahead a small group of girls had formed around Faith. He recognized a few, her usual group, but he didn't really know any of them, except for Erica. She had went to the same middle school while Aiden and Faith had been friends, and had always been one of Faith’s closest confidants.

  Dressed in a form-fitting black suit that reminded Aiden of the Black Widow, Erica was the first to see him coming. She was a pretty black girl, almost one with the suit she wore, with long black braids running down well below her back.

  “Here he comes,” Erica grinned at him. Faith turned to see him, smiling still. “We’ll see you later tonight, Faith.”

  The group began to disperse as Aiden approached. He returned a nod from Erica as she turn
ed and left. He was surprised to receive another soft slap on the butt by one of the other girls. He jumped forward slightly and turned the other cheek.

  “Nice ass, Spidey,” a short blue-eyed girl said with a crooked grin.

  “Never mind her,” Faith apologized. “She’s harmless.”

  Aiden raised an eyebrow and sighed with a gentle smile. He passed Faith her cup, “Maybe I should have worn something else.”

  Faith simply giggled and grinned at him. He was not sure how exactly to take that but chose not to dwell on it long. Twenty minutes later, the crowd had withered to only a handful of costumed guests.

  Mason walked up as Faith was talking about one of their blanket forts. The elaborate creations of their childhood in her family’s basement that had doubled as a toy-filled playroom.

  “We were pretty creative,” Faith reminded him. “Remember all the tunnels and rooms we’d build with nothing more than blankets, comforters, chairs, tables and whatever else we could get our hands on?”

  Aiden laughed. It seemed so childish now, but it had been so much fun. For a moment he wished he was back then, in the simplicity of it all, oblivious to the deeper feelings that would come in the years to follow. “Yeah, those were crazy.”

  “Crazy?” Mason asked. “What was crazy?”

  “Nothing, Mason,” Aiden shook his head. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Okay. Well, I hate to break this up but it’s time for us to be hitting the road. Parents expect us back by ten,” Mason explained. “Stupid curfew.”

  “Okay,” Aiden said, looking at Faith. Neither of them said a word. They just stood awkwardly, like simply stepping away from each other would be too odd to actually commence in the action.

  “Well then,” Mason said slowly, emphasizing how odd the situation was. “Why don’t you just kiss her and say goodbye.”

  Aiden glared at Mason. Yes, that’s exactly what he wanted to do, but his body didn't want to move and his mind was too horrified to override it. Suddenly he relaxed and shook his head.

  “Why don’t you go start the car, Mason?” he suggested.

  Mason grinned mischievously and left them alone with the other guests. At least they were not standing inches from them, expecting a scene. Aiden looked down and then back up at her with a grin.

  “Do you have a ride?” Aiden asked. “I’m sure Mason wouldn’t mind dropping you off.”

  “No, I’m good,” she replied. “I’m riding with Erica.”

  Carefully, Aiden took a step closer to Faith. He stood a mere half foot from her body. He smiled, unsure how to proceed though he knew exactly what he wanted. Faith smiled back and crinkled her brow, her emerald eyes expectant. Aiden shook his head and laughed quietly at himself before taking a deep breath.

  The awkwardness in his bones finally banished, he leaned forward and kissed her gently. His body chilled at the feeling of her lips against his own. Strawberry, simple and delicious. Then he stepped back, such sweet parting, and looked her in the eyes. They gleamed intensely and her smile looked as though it could never be erased. He was sure it matched his own expression.

  “Goodnight,” he said.

  “Night,” she replied happily.

  “Stop, please stop,” Dalton begged pathetically.

  Bullet’s knife slid gently in wide slaloms across Lenore’s bare leg where the raspy voiced-boy had ripped her right pant leg open with the same blade. A thin line of red left a trail along her leg. Lenore held her lips tight, refusing to give him the pleasure of a scream. Instead she whimpered as the sharp edge etched a tiny line through her skin. Her whole body shook in shock.

  “I’m begging you, please stop,” Dalton continued, quieter and with less force. “Take anything you want, anything! What do you want from us?”

  Those black holes, excuses for eyes, behind the plain white mask dug into Dalton. The boy didn’t even watch were the knife went as he traced aimlessly along Lenore’s thigh, then knee. He kept angling his head as if in contemplation of Dalton, taking in every emotion and torment from the father’s eyes, every tear and sob, every last drop of pain and grief.

  “Stop!” Dalton yelled this time. His entire body shook with the words, his voice booming in the large living space. Bullet sank back an inch, his blade stopping halfway down Lenore’s calf. Freddie and Skull-face were jarred to attention, heads tilted. It was a more menacing scene than Dalton could have expected. Three foreign figures, all cowering behind eerie masks, staring at him, wondering at him almost. He suddenly felt more uncomfortable than he had a moment ago, but he refused to let it show. He had to do something. But what?

  Signaling for Skull-face to watch Lenore, Bullet rose from his crouch. His eyes never left Dalton as he stood to his full height. At first he simply stood there, looking at Dalton with a masked expression that Dalton could only imagine. A senile freak. A raving lunatic.

  “What do you want?” Dalton yelled furiously.

  The masked boy stepped forward quicker than expected and perched himself directly in front of Dalton. He looked down at Dalton, the hard plastic of his mask almost making contact with Dalton's nose. The knife jutted out precariously only inches from Dalton’s neck. Those dark eyes bored into him. Then he yelled, the raspy quality of his voice giving way to something more childish, almost a squeal. “Shut up!”

  “What do you want? You can have any…”

  A fist hammered into his nose. His head reeled back, his vision blurred, and pain seared up his nostrils, eyes sockets and forehead. Dalton jerked back. He tried to shake the pain out of his head, tried to restore the clarity to his vision. His vision clarified. He raised his hand to his nose where most of the throb came from. He felt something wet and warm on his index finger. Blood.

  “Oh that felt good,” Bullet exclaimed. It was an almost joyful melody. Dalton ducked as his vision caught sight of another fist heading straight for him. He closed his eyes. Nothing. He opened his eyes again and found Bullet bouncing like some boxer, pumping his fist in and out barely out of reach of Dalton’s face.

  “Yeah, that felt real good.” Bullet stretched his shoulders and wrenched his neck from side to side like he was preparing to step into the ring. “How’d you like that, Dalton?”

  “Please, just go,” Dalton begged.

  “If you’d just shut the fuck up maybe we would,” Bullet argued. He stopped the theatrics and sighed. He let his gaze shift around to Lenore and Mara and then back onto Dalton. “Well, once we get what we want, we’ll leave. But not until then.”

  “What do you want then?” Dalton begged for an answer. His mind needed something solid, something concrete, some demand he could meet.

  “Like I said, we just want to have a little fun, then we’ll get to the real business and leave,” Bullet explained vaguely.

  “Yeah, we have to have some fun first,” Skull-face chimed in from behind Bullet.

  “Just a little Halloween fun,” Freddie added.

  Searching those dark eyes for something more, some unspoken detail, Dalton tried to piece together what they had said. Fun, then we’ll get to the real business. What was the real business?

  “You’re just going to continue to hurt my family, like some twisted game, aren’t you?” Dalton asked, needing some validation, an answer.

  In the periphery of Dalton’s vision, Freddie and Skull-face began to nod slowly and deliberately. There was no attempt at shadow or disguise, no covering their intent. Bullet did not move. He bore his eyes deeper into Dalton’s, his head tilted as he stepped closer, but still out of reach. His eyes narrowed to slits behind the holes in the mask and his lips pinched into a dreadful smile.

  “Hurt me, not them. Hurt me,” Dalton begged, his voice shaking.

  “I am, Dalton. I am hurting you.” The words came out calm and clear. He paused once more for a mere second before continuing, “By hurting them. Can’t you see that?”

  An icy chill laced through his body like an electrical current. His eyes widened in realization.
He let his mouth fall open but he could not form the words to speak. Had he heard right? Yes. He knew he had. Finally, he let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. His eyes darted in quick jumps to Lenore and then Mara, and then back again and again. The realization that he somehow was the center of this cruel game sank in, deep into his marrow. He was the center and his family were the pawns. His eyes communicated such deep sorrow to his wife and Mara, then he looked down.

  “But why?” he asked one more time, expecting to be punched again for the question.

  “Because I can,” Bullet explained.

  The words felt like a knife through his heart. The still beating organ felt like it was thumping around the thick blade, causing cut after cut with each expansion and release. What type of monster was standing before him? Could he be real? Was any of this real? Human? If he was, if this was anything more than a dark nightmare, the boy that stood before him had a soul as black as hell itself.

  “I believe it’s my turn next,” Skull-face broke the silence. He looked at Lenore. “It's your turn, honey.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The bright light emanating from the television screen cast a faint glow over the plaid sofa at the opposite end of the room. Its red and green stripes looked to be shades of gray in the flashing light.

  Tamieka Dula sat on the couch immersed in the television’s light next to her daughter, Larissa. The rays projected from the grayscale image reflected in Larissa’s glasses, tiny imitations of the story playing out on the old tube. The glare almost hid her bright brown eyes bordered by dark brown skin. She sat bundled in a large plush mocha blanket, feet tucked securely under her and wrapped in more blanket.

  On the tube, Bela Lugosi walked with unnerving grace in shades of black and white through a large ornate room. His gaze was steady and cunning as he approached an unsuspecting female who, unknown to her, was the next on his list of blood donors.

  “Here we go, here we go,” Tamieka said, patting Larissa on the shoulder excitedly. Larissa just looked at her with a blank expression then went back to watching the screen.