The Goodbye Girl (Red Market Series Book 2)

by A. Giannoccaro

  “Wait in front, I will bring your money.” I close the door on the man who just took them to their own funerals. I lock the door and go to see what he has delivered me. I expect better quality than what Caesar would pilfer from the streets. The girls are all teens, maybe the redhead is in her twenties but her breasts are still perky enough to be pretty, not that their appearances matter here. Ugly people's hearts are the same as beautiful ones, they still beat. The boy, oh my, he is something to behold. His hair is styled and his clothes are expensive. I watch as they cut them off his muscle bound body with the scissors. The sound of the fabric splitting is almost as beautiful as he is. I walk over to him, he looks to be in shock; no tears, no fighting just complete disbelief. “Hello, what's your name?” He doesn’t answer me, just stares into space. I look at the doctor who is assessing them now. “Have they been drugged?” He nods his head and I am angered. I like to see them fall into the pits of hell and hope to get out alive. I leave them and go to pay the delivery man and yell at him for the drugs.

  I find him with Caesar, already paid in full and with an amused smile on his face. I glare at them both, careful to keep my anger inside. How dare he; he left, it is my turn now. I leave and go to find comfort in my sweet doll because she won’t hurt me - she can’t. I lie beside her, holding her close to me. I can hear them bringing in the new bodies. I smile at the prospect of new toys to play with and all the love I can share with them. My body aches to fuck someone, and I get up to choose who is going to fulfill my needs. I need to set the chaos free so I can return to order. I will deal with my uncle later, after I satisfy this hunger in my dark soul. Boy or girl? Who will sate this need? What does my monster need?

  Svetlana

  She shed the skins of her past gloriously, all while having murder on her mind.

  Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. After so long, it’s as if these movements are what soothe my sensitive heart. Pain is what I have come to require. As much as I want to drown in my silent screams and the discomfort, it’s useless. I’d be running back to it. Instead of flying through it disconnected, I need to sharpen my claws and make my lovers proud.

  I need to fucking kill to survive.

  “Such a tight cunt for a whore,” Arturo pants.

  His chants make me sick, but it’s my role. I need to gather my strength to get out of here. I take a deep breath to fill my lungs with air I will soon need. I let out a growl, not a cry, but a fucking growl like a tiger that is about to feast on its meal. The power I have wished for finds me as I clutch onto the dirt-filled floor, the mud caking itself underneath the nails I have left. I feel nothing but the thudding of my heart through every cell of my body. I haven’t been more prepared to fight in my life.

  Maybe the men who saved me in different ways did teach me a thing or two.

  I push my heel backwards with all my might, convinced it is enough to inflict damage. Clearly I am mistaken. My reflexes must still be slothful from my injuries. I feel a grip around my ankle and an immediate slap over my face, making my cheek whip to the side. I can’t help but laugh out loud again. I know I am losing my mind. Shit, maybe I’ve never really had it. My eyes make their way to the devil-man before me, his small cock exposed as his chest heaves from his uninvited prods.

  His lips turn down in disapproval, but he needs to understand that I am in this for the long haul. I grasp a hold of loose dirt in my left hand, letting the roughened grains tickle my palm. Again, I am reminded of the touch from my forbidden lover. Caesar, my fucking escape from the nasty world and the first person to show me what love was. Fuck it all. I still love him. I can’t help it. Let my maddened mind slip back into blackness, thinking that instead of dirt, it is his hands that I am holding. My hips betray me during this fight as my pussy becomes wet recalling how he touched me in the most delicious of ways.

  A hard jab to my cunt brings me out of my daydream and I cough wildly, grasping onto the dirt tighter until my fingers feel like they are going to break. My lungs burn and I feel an intense throbbing between my legs. That isn’t anything compared to getting your twat lit on fire. Stupid man doesn’t know the things I have been through. This is like a cakewalk compared to my history.

  He relaxes back on his heels staring at me like he, too, is contemplating his next movements. Fucking idiot. That’s the worst thing you can do in a situation like this. He is overconfident, thinking that he has me where he wants me, but that will prove to be his greatest mistake. I have survived the harshest situations of the world for the past seventeen, almost eighteen years. That realization makes me smile as my chest start to calm.

  My leg moves swiftly, catching his chin. He yelps out as his head yanks to the side. He instantly moves his hand to guard his wounded jaw. Mistake number two. I keep staring at him, noting that his hands are trembling slightly. I can’t help but feel an immense amount of pride for having such an effect on this son-of-a-bitch. His hands move lower and his eyes open, showing an outpouring of hatred. I see that he has murder on his mind.

  “You deserve to die!” Arturo yells, spitting disgustingly my way.

  I react, tossing the dirt into his eyes as my heel makes contact with his throat. I hear an awful gurgling sound as he hobbles back onto his bare ass, guarding his throat as he makes the universal choking symbol with his hands. I stand abruptly, looking down at him as he attempts to catch his breath, but it seems that it is too difficult for him. His face starts to turn ashen, and I stand there admiring my little foot’s handiwork. Who would have ever guessed that my tiny foot could have been capable of crushing a man’s wind-pipe?

  I stand, allowing my muscles to amend for a few moments, still not letting my eyes waiver from the sick fuck before me. One of his hands reaches out for me, a nonverbal sign that he wants my help. In that second, I lose it further. I pounce on him, letting the teeth that have been buried beneath the surface of abuse and heartache free. I claw, bite, and punch him everywhere that I can. His pleas are useless and weak. Due to the lack of oxygen that his body is getting, he will soon die anyway, and he isn’t sustaining enough energy. I could have let him go peacefully, but with one gesture, he proved that I am not a creature capable of decency.

  Gone is the weak little lamb.

  Perhaps I do belong with Mateo. Maybe I was born to kill. Born to fuck things up. My vision goes red with rage as my arms flail to their own madness, scratching and hitting everywhere that they can. I hiss and growl, like the animal that I have transformed into, and before I understand what I am doing, I feel a gush of warmth into my mouth. The taste of something salty, like sweat, and metallic assaults my taste buds and empty stomach. The redness dissolves as soon as it happened and the grisly scene greets me. I should be stunned, but part of me is pleased with the results that are in front of me.

  Blood drips from my lips as I see an open wound on Arturo’s neck. His skin is blue, his limbs are flaccid, and his eyes are open. Death is final. I know what it looks like, what it feels like beneath my hands. I remember it so well, after all, it was my first memory. My brain hurts as I remember my mother at just four-years-old. I hate myself in this moment, or my mind for that matter. It is spiraling out of control with each passing moment. I wanted nothing more than to fix her messy blonde curls and wash the red out of them.

  But she was a dolly I could never fix. That was the day I was delivered to evil, to live with it for thirteen years until I fell into the embers of love. That is what love does to you. It burns you alive. It’s unfair. It hurts. It’s a goddamn burden because good things never last. People always leave. That’s what happened to me. I had it all, but now it’s gone and I don’t know what to do as I sit in this shit-hole, naked and mutilated with no clothes or home.

  I’m back at square one.

  Life, again, proves to be unfair. It is what it is. My look focuses on the dead man beneath me, and for a brief instant, I have inappropriate thoughts about maiming his body and throwing it to the alley rats that are sure to be scurrying around and searching for
food behind this building.

  Get your shit together, Svetlana… I chant it to myself over and over again. My eyes cast dark and I turn the survival switch on. I rummage around in Arturo’s pants pockets until I feel a set of keys. I scold myself for not remembering the landscape of where the flat was. I know that there were kids running around amuck and gangsters everywhere. Fuck, who am I kidding? I am probably still in the middle of Mexico City and getting back to the place where things looked familiar will be harder than scoring a warm place to stay during wintertime in Hunts Point.

  I look down at my feet, noting how terrible I look with mud and shit caked on most every inch of my skin. Fuck it. I attempt to walk, noting how much effort it is taking me to make a step. I hope whatever I do doesn’t require running, because I don’t think my legs will move that quickly. I walk down a small passageway until a short metal door greets me. I take several keys out, trying a few until I find one that unlocks the door. The brutal sunlight shines down on my face, blinding my eyes and making it difficult to see. I nearly fall back onto my naked ass, taking a second to balance myself and let the unwavering heat warm my broken body. I place my arms out like I am being victimized alive, letting my bare nipples feel the hot temperature. I was never sure of God before, merely hearing the crazy people panhandling the streets talking about how they found Jesus. I think this is about as close to heaven as I will ever get, feeling the liberation of being free on my own accord. I close my eyes, reveling in this moment that I have. The very first time in my life that I have fought for something.

  And won.

  I was not saved this time. No. I made the bad guy pay. I killed him and sent him to his own hell where he is paying for the terrible things he has done. I let a smile grace my battered face as these thoughts swarm my mind. Thoughts that are as close to heaven as I will get. I hear nothing in the background except pure peace, something that I have never experienced before. My ears are fulfilled as magic surrounds me, letting me know that I am the one in control of my own destiny.

  The cards I have been dealt are not the way that my life has to go.

  Life can change in a fraction of a second. Moments of decency can be murdered by another beast set on sucking the only amount of life you have left.

  “Oye pequeña, deja te ayudó.” A thick Spanish accent calls out to me.

  Hey little girl, let me help.

  I open my eyes to see a handsome, twenty-something year-old Hispanic man dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved black dress top that buttons down the middle. His hair is short, almost bald, and his features are rough. Both arms are covered in tattoos, making me remember Mateo. Oh, Mateo. Where are you and why won’t you save me? He smiles at me, but it isn’t a friendly smile. The type of grin he just offered tells me that he is about to take something of mine, even if I don’t want to give it up. I want so badly to offer him a return, but something has my tongue muted, and I don’t think it is my weakness or the elements I have just suffered. He gives me another wider smug smile, looking my body up and down as if he is studying it for his next experiment. He moves his black shirt up to expose a silver, shiny gun and my heart drops.

  So much for thinking I could save myself.

  He pulls a cellphone out of his pocket, all while I remain still. Running would be stupid and make my situation much worse. I can spot the bad guys from miles away. They like little girls who play by the rules, and I am making the decision to do that…

  For now.

  “Se ve como de dieciséis, sucia asta la chingada y huele a mierda. Necesitrará un buen baño y afeitada.” The unknown man spouts off in Spanish. I wish I knew what the hell he was saying. I know it’s about me.

  She looks about sixteen, dirty as fuck and smells like shit. She’ll need a bath and a good shave.

  He smiles to me as the person on the other end of the line speak back to him. He hangs up, taking a step closer to inspect, from what I can see, my tits because his eyes are set on them. I gulp hard, trying to understand what is about to happen. Based on my knowledge from the city life back home, it’s something that I am not willing to come to terms with. I am about to be taken by this asshole, and more than likely pimped out.

  The unknown man takes a step back, bringing his hand to his nose. If I wasn’t so used to that gesture from my previous times in Hunts Point, I would be offended, but when you are locked up in a cell for God knows how long, what else do you expect?

  A beat up white van comes up behind him. I have the urge to scream, but something is stopping me. My tongue belongs to the unknown man in front of me. How is it that I can go from vengeful and willing to fight, to weak and ready to surrender in two fucking seconds? Is that what girls like me were trained to do?

  Three men jump out of the van as the handsome Hispanic man walks away down the sidewalk littered with trash. I want to tell him to come back to me, but I have no time as the group of assailants puts a black hood over my head, throws me into the back of the van, and knocks me out until I see nothing.

  Caesar

  Who goes round my house this night?

  None but bloody Tom!

  Who steals all the sheep at night?

  None but this poor one.

  I start making calls; every single contact I have on these dirty streets needs to be looking for her. I have to have her back. I am still shaking with anger for my defiant nephew, I have never seen his madness this bad. Even when he had lost his grip on reality before, it was nothing like this. His insanity has come alive here and with no one to control him, it has run wild in him. My fingers play with the heavy gold chain that hangs around my neck, a new reminder of the noose my mother has around my life. I am tempted to murder Hugo, but I know I still need him. Especially here, this is his playground, Hunts Point was mine. Every single contact says the same thing, no one has seen her, or heard anything. They all seem shocked that I even have a child, I still don’t believe it sometimes. As I think about Svetlana I am reminded of what I have done, I try telling myself that I loved her and that made it right. But my heart knows how wrong it is I imagine myself having confession. The priest listening to my list of sins, murder, rape and every other commandment broken then I say it. “I fucked my daughter.” I can hear him gasp in horror before he condemns me to hell, only I have always lived in hell so it doesn’t matter. My phone screen lights up with an international number, Madre, I ignore it and start to walk through the halls of my new headquarters.

  I absorb the silence, only the shuffle of our staff makes a noise, the beeping machines are cathartic and quieter here. We had learned from Hunts Point when we set this up, it's better, bigger and more efficient. Two theaters, two pack rooms and more space and better equipment means we can be faster and fill more orders. I take the stairs to the upper level of the building that hasn't been assigned a purpose yet. To my surprise, the huge cavernous room is full of wall to wall rows of beds and equipment. It is all new, I am sure it just got here, nothing has been connected and most of it is still covered in packaging plastic. The boy has lost his mind, we could never keep and process this many bodies at a time. We would need an army of staff. What has got into him? Even he cannot believe that this is even a possibility. I need to get him back under control before someone finds us again. I close the door as I descend the stairs again. I keep going down though, way down to the furnace rooms below it all. They are a necessity in this business, the only way I can be sure the evidence is gone. I feel the heat rising with every step I take closer to the bowels of the building. The sound is a raging roaring rush, it is a sound I like; it doesn’t whisper, it yells. The sweat is pouring from me as I walk past the row of furnaces, newer, better and hotter than the ones we had before. My mind betrays me and I am pulled down into the incinerating terror of my memories.

  Svetlana’s voice whispers through me as her body becomes one with mine. I feel her broken marred body respond to my tender touch and I love her. I love her, I feel her quivering from her orgasm below me. I hear her panting and
it turns the lights out on any power I had to stop this insanity. I pound my body into hers. She whimpers and moans in her lust filled, torturous voice and I become the beast that lives inside me. I love her, I love her body and let her feel it all.

  I needed to purge myself of what I had become, the flames would destroy me. As I threw myself at their mercy I felt my skin melting and I screamed in agony before the world disappeared and I surrendered to death.

  Fucking Hugo, I was happy when I died! He saved me and delivered me to my own hell on Earth. I grit my teeth and walk away. The flames make me think about what I have done and I hate myself. I go up to the hall of beds that are the manifestation of Mateo's madness and I find one to make own. I need to sleep. But even in my sleep sounds and memories and my fucking madre’s devil voice singing to me invade my peace. Soothing lullabies drive my mind and body to the depths of an insanity I will never return from. Her voice was the cause of my disease, a virus in my soul that I couldn’t cure. Only silence brought relief and now even silence no longer soothes me. Sleep was my solace, now Svetlana dances with me there, making it a bittersweet reminder of my sick love.

  My phone wakes me from the shallow slumber and I answer without looking at the screen and instant regret fills me. My mother's vicious voice enters my ear. The hushed tones war with my mind and my body reacts to her. It’s wrong like Svetlana was wrong but I cannot control what sound does to me. I have tried so many times to cure this curse.

  “Madre.” I return her greeting through clenched teeth.

  “Son, so glad to know you have arrived safely. Are you avoiding my calls already? I thought we talked about this.” Her words are my enemy.

  “Estoy ocupado.” I slide off the bed and start to walk out of this ludicrous room Mateo has created. My scars stretch and pull with each step adjusting to the movement.