The slut who declared her support for her familia is chained like the dog she is to the wall. I knew there was reason that I didn’t take it easy on her, denying her food for long periods of time and spilling five-gallon buckets of water over her head in an effort to make her speak evidence of where that awful man is. I grip my knife harder, remembering back to the words that I spoke to myself as I interacted with that scum watch-dog.
“Si Caésar tuviera hijos, yo les pelaria la piel de sus cuerpos de la manera mas dolorosa, aterradora y agonizante hasta que murieran lentamente ante mis ojos.”
If Caesar did have any kids, I would peel their skin away from their body, painfully, terrifyingly, and agonizingly so, until they died slowly before my eyes.
There’s something to be said for watching life leave someone as their eyes haze over into nothingness. They become a ghost in front of you, all because you decided their hell. Again, the torments of previous times entice me as the infuriated laugh from that bitch brings me back to my horrible reality. She’s yanking on her chains relentlessly as the filth from the brick particles whisks through the air deftly. Her crooked teeth are exposed as her lips are curled above, the cackle coming from her mouth is making my head ache and crave the liquid that helps me cope and forget the face that was the only way to a decent life.
Her dirty clothes hang from her body. She’s lost weight since she’s been here for three weeks now. Every day is getting harder not to take it one step further to make her talk, but now, now the whore has claimed them as hers and I can’t help but wonder what she would look like filleted alive and at my mercy.
Only then will she talk.
I take my free hand and backhand her across her face, her cheeks littered with grime and dirt. Her hollow face flings itself to the side. A hiss escapes her lungs. She’s a savage cunt. This might actually be fun if she puts up a fight. Her little 100-pound frame isn’t going to be much against me.
“Perra, is familia thicker than the water your belly want? You give up your life for them?” I murmur, dropping down as I attempt to pull her in with my look.
She doesn’t waver as she stares off into the corner of the cell, snickering and heckling like a demented wild animal, thrashing her head from side to side. I slap her again, trying to silence her. The stripping of her will and sanity will be sweeter with silence. I have to make her listen. I have to make her see the path of damage that Caesar Salguero has left. His kingdom is soon to be destroyed and I will leave a message for them all.
“How do you know Caesar, puta? How?” I urge further, surprised at my ability to sound so normal as I continue to gaze at the girl who is losing her mind before me.
The stench of piss and shit is overwhelming, hitting my nostrils and making my stomach tighten and further crave the alcohol that makes me human.
Her head stills as her greasy, disheveled strands hang by her face. She looks so haunting, a familiar one to me, as I remain conflicted. Part of me wants to torture and kill her, however the other part of me wishes to save her. I can’t. I have been waiting too long to make Caesar hurt. He took my girl. The only goodness my life had as I sat back and watched him woo her with his eyes. I let it happen. I can’t. I have to make him hurt.
My self-control wins as I grip the knife, pushing it to her petite throat. The girl with no name urges herself forward, daring me to slice her throat from ear to ear. Darkness invades her look, making my heart shudder and my skin crawl. I thought that this fight would be easy, but it’s at this second that I understand that this tiny fly beneath my blade is much more than that. She is a quiet spider who can and will hurt. She will bite, kill, and inject venom when you least expect it. I need to play my cards right.
I withdraw the blade from her throat, placing it back into its holster until I am ready for more. I need answers, but she is too smart to give them to me now. I have to know how to break her. I need to know what her weaknesses are. You see, the thing about lost little girls is this; they crave love, despite how much they don’t want to admit that. They also want trust, but they don’t believe that either. I need to make her have faith in both, in others, and have her lose it in Caesar.
But who is he to her?
I brush a dirty strand of hair away from her face. Her teeth clamp down onto the flesh of my forearm before I have time to comprehend what is occurring. I yelp out in pain, seeing her bite down on my skin as the red liquid escapes, staining her cracked lips. I swear for a second I am hallucinating as I see her lips drinking me up like a vampire who has found their food. I take my free hand down to my ankle again, pulling the blade away from its holster. I slice the first place it lands as her grip leaves me and she goes limp onto the piss-infested floor.
So much for Mr. Nice Guy. He doesn’t exist anyway.
I stabbed her in the arm. It doesn’t appear to have hit a major artery because she isn’t bleeding out. After her teeth let me go, I kicked her in the head until she lost consciousness. Now, she is unchained and naked from the bottoms down before me, completely at my mercy. It’s time to get even. It’s time for answers.
Part of me finds joy as her head lies next to a pile of her own shit. Again, the smell is unbearable as I await her to wake up from the force of my hard boot. The satisfaction wouldn’t be felt unless she is aware. I want her to be able to feel every cut. Every slice. Every piece of skin that I take from her once marred complexion, she will remember it because her familia’s kingdom is bad. It’s falling at my hands.
Her head stirs from side to side and her eyes open in a lazy manner. Her arms stay limp. I know girls like her. They are used to being the pity of other men as their bodies remain on display like useless pieces of trash to grapple at. The same pools that set the darkness to fear earlier is still there. Even through pain and abuse, she remains unchanged.
“Who is Caesar to you?” I ask, ensuring my tone remains even.
She opens her legs, exposing her pussy. My eyes can’t help but look. It’s not like others I have seen before. It’s scarred and ugly, but I still become affected by the pink flesh that is taunting me. I scrunch my jaw as my cock strains in my pants, my stare traveling over the scattered hair on her cunt. Burn marks are painted over her lips, showing an impressive delusion of immorality that draws me in.
“How do you say, padre,” she states evenly, her tiny hand dancing over her dirtied stomach until it finds her taut opening.
Again, instead of her being at my mercy, I am at hers. I swallow hard, the dryness of my throat making me sick as I come to the conclusion of what she has just said. If he is her father, then Mateo is her cousin? Is she his lover? Is this all part of the conspiracy to gain bodies? My head feels like it is about to explode, and I fear that I may lose my mind soon, but I can’t look away as she fingers her dirty cunt.
No. This isn’t right. I’m not supposed to feel this way. I can’t look at her like this as she touches herself. It’s a disgrace. I need to stay true to my cause. I need justice for my little girl. Realization that I don’t wish for greets me as my cock grows harder in my pants. I can’t handle this degradation, yet it still enfolds me tightly, making me suffocate.
“NO!” I shout, prancing on top of her while yanking her head up by her hair to make her look at me.
“Lies! Tell me you speak lies, puta!” I shout, spit spouting from my mouth into her face.
The girl remains calm, staring into me without fear.
“Padre. My Padre.”
She giggles and I can tell she isn’t lying. I grab her tiny breast, staring at her scarred body, and bring my killing blade to her skin. It’s time to skin her alive and make her feel as much pain as I have felt.
Peeling back grime, one layer at a time.
Her screams silence my insanity as I am bathed with red warmth. The face of Fatima greets me and hell squeezes me. I believe I’ve just met the devil, herself.
Caesar
So close to the gates of hell, but never allowed inside.
“Wake up Cae
sar.” The whisper goes straight to my crotch and I try to peel open my eyes. The sliver of light almost blinds me so I scrunch them closed.
I can feel pain, though I can’t pinpoint it. It is burning with the fire of a thousand flames and I am reminded that I am alive. I am alive! I shouldn’t be alive! I dove into the fire. I set myself free from the sin that lives inside me, from the devil in the voices. I want to move but the pain keeps me still. My mind is waking from a nightmare that I know is only too real. I hear the muffled whispering of voices and it only makes my plight worse. I feel my cock hardening and the rage building. Something hard smacks me in the groin and kills the painful erection.
“Disgusting. Keep your control in front of me, boy! I’m your mother! Your dick needs to stay where it belongs.” The hostile voice of the woman who birthed me shatters the silence in my head. Sending my senses into meltdown as I quake in fear for what will come next.
“Sort him out.” I hear her vicious bite as the door slams closed behind her. Shuffling movements and a godforsaken sniff fill my ears and I wish I could block them.
I hear it all but I cannot see it. I need to open my eyes so the amplified noises will mute a little.
“Shhhhhh!” I hiss, my throat like sandpaper and the vibration causing a burning pain in my chest. A cough splutters from me and it’s excruciating. Open your fucking eyes before you cannot control it, I tell myself over and over.
The light is blinding and the pain has overtaken any thoughts I had in my head. Why is my mother here? Why am I not dead? Svetlana - all burned away by the agony I am feeling. I blink my eyes over and over to try and adjust to the brightness.
“Turn off the light,” I beg and it comes out strangled and dry.
I hear the flick of the switch before I force my eyes open; in the dimness I can focus. I am in a bed, a white bed and the muted light from the draped window tells me it’s late. There is a monitor attached to me but the sound is off. I want to reach over and turn it up so the beeping will help, but I am stopped by the pain. I take in my surroundings and the dreaded truth sinks deep into the pit of my stomach. As the furnishings come into focus, the wooden floors polished to a high shine. Antiques placed in perfect alignment. The priceless oils hanging on the walls and the two men dressed in medical whites standing in the corner.
I am home.
Hell would have been so much better than this.
My mother could put the fear of God into most men and the idea that I have ended up here terrifies me. There is an IV in my left arm and the right one has been bandaged. The dressing goes right up and over my chest and side, I can feel there is more dressing on my neck and one leg. The pain is consuming me. “How did I get here?” I ask the two in the corner. “Talk loud, no whispers please,” I add before the woman with graying hair steps closer to me. She isn’t in whites and looks friendly, I know her - I think.
“Hugo called your mother. He said someone tried to kill you and you needed medical attention.” The voice makes my insanity come alive. “Talk louder,” I cry past the agony.
“You have burns, Caesar. A lot of bad burns.” She speaks in a tone I can barely tolerate.
It comes back in waves, Svetlana, my daughter. I fucked my daughter when all I wanted was to love her. She whispered to me and I went mad. Mateo, he was smiling at me as he fucked her, she cured his disease. The noise wouldn’t stop, the whispers were making me do it and I put myself in the fire. I remember hearing Hugo scream but I thought it was too late, that it was over. I had found the eternal silence of hell. Why did he pull me from the flames, I don’t want this life. I am a madman, I cannot control this thing inside my head and I have done things I can’t undo. Images of my child as I pleasured her body assault my mind and I cringe at the thought of it. I should have said goodbye before I hurt her. I should never have let her live. My mother is going to go all sorts of crazy if she finds out the truth. For now I can say someone threw me in the fire, I can keep her away from my life. I can heal and go back to them. I will go and put an end to this silly mistake, I have to say goodbye to her.
“You need to rest, stop moving and talking and allow the burns to heal. You inhaled a lot of scorching hot air, your throat and lungs are weak.” She keeps her tone at a level I can handle, she knows me somehow.
“How long have I been here?” I need to know.
“A little over a month now, your mother decided it was time we woke you now that you are stable.” Of course she did, my mother is a fucking bitch that loves the pain of others.
“Knock me out again, I don’t want to be awake yet.” She nods and goes to the table beside me and before she can put the drugs in my IV, I ask her. “Please turn that on,” pointing to the monitor, “the beeping helps me.” She smiles wide and flicks the volume back on. The drugs and beeping take me away from the noise in my head and I am happy to leave again.
“Hello, Son.” A deafening whisper jolts me awake; rage pulses with the throbbing pain that cripples me as I try to move.
“Madre.” The words scratch out past the pain ripping my throat apart.
“You want to tell me your secrets or wait until I find out what you are hiding from me?” the softness of her voice was always my undoing, she is the virus that caused my disease. There isn’t a cure for my mother’s voice. My body revolts against her sound. She knows I am hiding things, my mother knows everything. She always has.
“I don’t have secrets, Madre. Someone tried to kill me.” Talking is agonizing.
“Your assassin must have been the one who called the police. Some boy called Juan, you know him? You let him live, Caesar. Why are you so stupid, son?” I try to overpower the physical response with my mind but I can’t - I never could. Her walking stick connects with my body, smacking me hard in the crotch.
“You filthy man! Stop it or I will have it cut off.” She beats me until my erection goes away and I am paralyzed in pain again.
“I will be back to talk to you when you can control your dick. Disgusting,” she says still in the maddening whisper as she leaves me alone to suffer again.
I groan, trying to get into a position that doesn’t hurt my whole body. I have no idea how much time has passed, the pain is still there but I know I am healing. The dressings were removed and my burns are almost healed. I am afraid to look at them, as my outside will match my inside now - hideous. I sit up and let my legs hang off the end of the bed. The tight scar tissue limits my movements and my skin feels two sizes too small. It seems like I have been gone from my life for an eternity and I pluck up the courage to ask the lady doctor for her phone.
“Your madre won’t be happy if she knows.” She isn’t keen to help me for fear of the devil woman.
“Please, just one call.” Looking around to make sure we are alone, she slips her phone from the pocket of her lab coat and drops it in my good hand.
“I will collect it when I change your medicines out this afternoon, don’t get caught.” I smile at her, she is nice. I might just take her with me when I leave.
“I won’t, thank you.” Thank God Mateo’s number is one I memorized and I know it by heart.
No one knows numbers these days. I wait a while after she leaves to make sure that no one is going to disturb me. After my lunch, I am left alone again. I hold the phone with my burned hand and dial with the other. It's hard and I am frustrated at my inability to grip the phone. The number rings and then changes to an international call forward tone; my stomach sinks and I feel ill. Plan B. I am about to hang up when he answers my call.
“Hola, this is Mateo.” He sounds different, like something is wrong with him.
“Mateo, it’s me. Caesar.” I say my name because I sound different; my voice changed when I breathed in the fire hot air of the furnace.
“Where the fuck are you?” he barks back at me, loud, coarse and bearable.
“Home,” I answer in a word.
“Home? Caesar, we had to move, things are all wrong. Lettie, she is... Lettie’s…” I
knew something was wrong.
“Where is Lettie? Mateo!” I do my best to yell without anyone hearing me.
“She’s gone. She left and someone took her. They want you. I get notes asking where you are.” His answers are all just noise in my ears as images of her when I took her from Pavel fill my mind. I have to go find her, because Mateo can’t.
“I will be back soon. Don’t fuck everything up. The old lady is not happy. Get the job done and she won’t worry to check up on you.”
“Are you alright?” Mateo asks. He sounds like he cares but I am afraid I don’t believe him.
“I’m fine, just find her and keep the parts moving.” I hang up because I am sure I heard a noise outside my room. I am a prisoner here. I want to leave. I need to leave. I have to save her - again.
Mateo
I once had a sweet little doll, dears,
The prettiest doll in the world;
Her cheeks were so red and white, dears,
And her hair was so charmingly curled.
But I lost my poor little doll, dears,
As I played on the heath one day;
And I cried for her more than a week, dears,
But I never could find where she lay.
I sit beside the white haired little doll, she is so pretty and petite. I want to save her and hurt her all at once. I stroke her cheek, pushing her hair off her face. The screen above her head beeps consistently in a lullaby of sorts, singing to me and her. She had blue eyes, although they are closed and now she won’t open them again. I don’t want to see them; they are blue not brown and they should be brown, they should be Lettie’s eyes, not hers. Lettie left me. She’s gone now and I have new dolls to play with, more every day. I like this one though, she speaks to me even in her stillness. I hear her talking to me. She is just a kid, so little and innocent - beautiful and perfect. Peeling the sheet back just a little, I can see her satin smooth milky skin, she isn’t from the streets. She fell from heaven, this angelic doll. I want to touch her, glide my hand over her small breasts and soft curves. I don’t this time, it feels wrong so I cover her body and kiss her forehead. I sit next to her and talk to her.
The Goodbye Girl (Red Market Series Book 2) Page 3
